Chapter 3
—Connak—
Connak sat at the edge of Trinity. It was far too late to be awake and sitting in the forest, but he preferred the trees and owls hooting in the night over a cozy cot under a roof.
He’d spent so much time in the Malintale scoping for ways to get Kienna out of River Storm that this had become his way of life.
But that part of this life was over, and Kienna had left for Dove Port, leaving him with a gnawing ache that only pulled him back to her. She’d been there for a day, and he hoped she would have reached out by now. She hadn’t.
Connak needed to find other ways to fill his time, not that there wasn’t plenty of work to do. Still, part of him hollowed, having had the constant of her for so long.
He focused his mind, pulling it away from Kienna and guiding it to his next mission: gathering intel on River Storm and King Vaerin’s next move.
There were whispers of shadows on the move and weapons needing to be diffused.
Tislin appeared, and Connak welcomed the dissipation of all his cloudy thoughts.
“She’s all set,” Tislin said, sitting across from him.
“Thank you, Captain.”
Tislin nodded. “Elowen has shared more than I thought she would.”
“Of course she did,” Connak sighed. “Tristian hoped she would.” He glanced around the trees, their trunks rising like pillars to hold the sky, feeding off magic buried in the ground. They pulsed with silver runes, an acknowledgement of his presence.
Sweet pine floated with the wind, sweeping his walnut hair with it. Stubble grew around his chin. He tried hard to keep neatly shaven, but since the start of the war, it’d been harder to maintain. Connak didn’t realize it would feel so itchy.
“Has she met the woodcarver yet?” he asked, watching Tislin stare at the shadows dancing at his feet. Connak’s brows deepened. “Did you use shadow work to get here?”
Tislin looked up, his face flat, and nodded. “He agreed to meet with her tomorrow. I had to bribe his apprentice, but he didn’t ask for much. The old man is slipping.”
Connak watched the black smoke, a reminder of who Tislin truly was. He tried not to let it concern him, knowing he only became this in a valiant effort to save his brother. Yet every time he conjured the shadows, bits of Tislin slipped away. “Do you have it under control?”
“Nothing I can’t handle, Commander.” Tislin’s voice was carefully tempered, but anger coiled behind it. “I should get back.” Before Connak could protest, Tislin stood and waved his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll walk.” His hazel eyes darkened a moment before he turned into the forest and left.
Connak should have gone after Tislin, just as he should have gone to find Tristian. He’d want to hear about Kienna’s time in Dove Port—that she happened to find the right people and her path was carving itself the way he’d intended. Instead, Connak opened his mind and branched out for Kienna.
She didn’t answer.
He wanted to slip into her thoughts, but he chose against it, not allowing their connection to invade her privacy. She was already pissed that he’d taken Seredai, the Elvish High Council healer, into her mind, and he was tiptoeing on thin ice.
As if the thought of it all summoned her, Connak’s mind was yanked forward.
Normally, a door would stand between them that could be opened or closed to link their minds together.
Connak could cut his way in if he wanted, but this time, he was forced through.
He slipped right in and realized he was standing in the desert.
Kienna was running frantically, then she was falling.
When she landed on the ground, dead bodies surrounded her in burning piles.
He’d landed inside of a dream…no, a nightmare.
She was witnessing a re-enactment of Dalelry with every single fear that war could incite.
He could sense her panic, and it soon took hold of him, too.
Connak flexed his hands, wanting to touch something real around him so he didn’t burn with her trauma.
Not that he wasn’t used to her nightmares, but before the war, they were crafted from normal fears, not the realities of war.
Aside from the one with the woman’s head in River Storm; that one was haunting.
Flashes slipped into his mind again. Bodies ripped open.
Black, matted wolf-like creatures with dead eyes.
Those Vorthakai mangling the legs of soldiers from both sides.
Then a fire, an explosion. Connak shot out of her head and waited for his eyes to readjust to the darkness of the trees.
His heart raced, Kienna’s own fear surging through him like a fire.
Connak called for her again.
“Hey.” Her voice came in sweetly, but it rode the tail end of a pant.
He craned his neck, breathing to settle his heart before letting her into his mind. “Can’t sleep?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she let out an airy laugh. “It’s not easy adjusting to a new bed. I’m sorry. I know it’s late. I should let you sleep.”
Connak grabbed her before she could pull away, rubbing his hand down her arm. “Never apologize to me.”
Kienna stilled as her blue eyes bore into him.
He wanted to melt from the intensity of her searching, guarded orbs.
He tried to evade the uncomfortable ache of wanting to finally know her, to see the woman he gave up everything for.
She had to be worth it all. Otherwise, his life was meaningless.
Timing was imperfect for them, and he was destined to be more frustrating than helpful as the Accords bound him to the laws of the Elvish.
Kienna’s chest rose and fell in a quiet breath. “I miss you.”
The corners of his mouth lifted. A spark returned to his expression like a long-lost habit, a sideways smirk that carried relief. “I knew you would.”
“Don’t make me kick you out,” she teased. She brushed her ashen hair behind her shoulders and inched her body closer to Connak’s. She smelled of sweet bread. “How are things?”
“I’m more concerned about you.”
Kienna’s smile flickered. “I’m alright.”
“Have you had any issues since Dalelry?”
Her mind darkened. Her shoulder blades tightened. Her arms folded across her chest. “…No.”
Connak crossed his arms. “It’s normal to have nightmares.”
“I’m not,” Kienna said too quickly, waving the conversation away with her hand.
He didn’t push. The moment was delicate, and her mind was already retreating. “Perhaps dreaming about me, then?” He let a crooked grin take the edge off.
Her glow returned as her full mental presence enveloped his own again. “You wish.”
“I do wish,” he said lightly.
Kienna’s breath hitched as she looked at him. He couldn’t fully read her expression and wasn’t sure he wanted to know her deeper thoughts. Connak nudged her and laughed. “Did I steal your breath?”
Her expression didn’t change when he said it as she looked around.
Now, he’d give anything to hear her thoughts.
Kienna smiled at him, but her eyes were dull.
A beat of silence passed, one of comfort.
When Kienna’s mind dimmed again, she fought back tears.
“Am I safe here?” she whimpered. “Dove Port is unprotected, and Vaerin could—”
Connak brushed her cheek. “I have my Blades everywhere. It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful, but we’ll never let anything bad happen. Do you trust me?”
“I should go. I must be at the workshop early tomorrow.”
“Let me know how it goes?” Connak asked, regretting he’d tried to diffuse the situation at all. Kienna pulled away, taking her warmth with her as his mind returned to the damp forest. The trees stood silent, and cold crept into the air.
—Kienna—
Moira rested peacefully in bed. Her chest rose and fell without a single care in the world, and Kienna envied her.
Moira didn’t see the horrors the rest of them did in war, the way the walls of Dalelry came tumbling down, and the decrepit creatures of King Vaerin’s army tore into the limbs of soldiers.
Steadying her pulse, Kienna quietly opened the door into the common room. She startled at the sight of Elowen sitting in her chair, knitting a tiny hat as firelight flickered against her face.
“Don’t worry, child. I knit when I can’t sleep. Feel free to take whatever you can to help your troubles.” The old woman began to hum. “The books are a great place to start.”
Kienna looked at the stacks piled on top of each other and in the corner.
She approached the old leather and poorly bound pages.
Looking over her shoulder, she noticed Elowen staring at her, lips parted as if she were waiting for something to happen.
Turning back to the books, Kienna rummaged through them, opening a few to see if she could find topics of interest. Most were about healing tinctures, others about history or art.
It was a small book bound in green leather that caught her attention first. Sifting cautiously through the pages, Kienna noticed the words were written in a peculiar language.
She held it out to Elowen. “What’s this one?”
“Oh,” Elowen chirped, a laugh escaping her lips. “Elvish poetry. I was gifted that as a young girl.” She brought her bony hands to her cheeks as if wiping the blush away. “It’s Edranic poetry. I never could read it.”
Kienna smiled. She didn’t understand Edranic either, but the sound of poetry was too tempting. “Do you mind if I take this? I think I know someone who would like it.”
“Yes, yes! Of course.” Elowen put down her knitting needles and approached Kienna. “Are there no other books here that catch your attention?”
Kienna gave the books another once-over. They were all so old that she couldn’t bear the thought of destroying them because she wanted to clear her mind. She shook her head and tucked the poetry under her arm. Elowen looked disappointed, swiping at her dress with a sigh.
“Is there one you think I should read?” Kienna asked, picking up a paintbrush instead.
Elowen pursed her lips. “Oh, no, no. Not unless they call to you, dear child. Until then, paint away.” She disappeared through the kitchen.
Kienna paused, the books tugging her awareness.
What did Elowen mean by the books calling to her?
Was that a term lovers of the written word would use?
Was a story supposed to call them before they could read?
Kienna didn’t attempt to understand the peculiar woman.
She yawned and dipped her brush into the prettiest hue of green she could find, stroking it against the canvas until morning found her.