Chapter 25
—Danek—
“At least try to move your fingers a little,” Connak said. He coaxed Danek to continue moving. The first time he tried, the muscles in his forearm stretched and radiated with pain like lightning striking him and burning away his ability to flex.
The pain alone brought stars. Danek refused to try again.
He stayed in bed, jaw tight, staring out the window at the sea.
Since Liora healed his hands, his fingers remained locked.
He should have been sleeping through it all to see if rest would bring him any relief, but Danek was too angry.
Whatever Tislin got himself into would have killed all of them.
More so, none of them were good at protecting themselves as they should have been.
“They’ll get stuck,” Connak said.
“I don’t care,” Danek replied, voice flat.
Connak groaned. “I need to check on Tislin. I’ll be back. Fucking stubborn—”
He closed the door behind him and left Danek sitting on the sheets.
The scent of warm roasted chicken layered with the sharp brightness of lemon zest drifted through the house.
If Danek wasn’t too busy brooding, he would have thought the air smelled like sunshine, a perfect way of describing Moira’s cooking.
Though this was not his normal state. He probably wouldn’t even be able to pick up a utensil to eat the chicken, so he only curled into the bed and stared at the wall.
Another thirty minutes must have passed before he heard Kienna’s voice echoing near the door. “What do you mean he won’t let you help?”
He didn’t hear Connak’s reply, only his muffled voice.
The rattling of the door followed, slamming open as Kienna stormed in.
“Get up,” she demanded. Danek didn’t move.
“Your legs aren’t broken, Danek. Get the fuck up.
” She reached for Danek’s arm and pulled.
Danek resisted. “Danek, look at me.” When he didn’t turn, she walked around the bed to meet his stare.
“We’re going to fix your hands, so get the fuck up. ”
By then, Moira dropped her cooking and approached behind Kienna to shut the door. The golden apron draped over her chest fit a little snug. She must have been cooking a lot lately. And with not training daily… Danek’s thoughts trailed again. His fingertips ached.
“Connak says Danek won’t even tell him what’s wrong with him,” Moira said. “Maybe we need to do the cold and hot thing again?”
“I wouldn’t have messed them up,” Danek finally said.
“Messed what up?” Kienna asked.
He felt guilty even thinking it, but Liora’s work on his hands was subpar at best. Not that she wasn’t skilled at her trade, but healing work took way more heart than she gave.
She went in for precision and stitched the life back in with skill alone.
No emotion. Danek learned long ago that emotion fueled the best versions of his magic.
That’s why he let himself care so much. Liora took that from him.
“Can you move them at all?” Kienna observed his fingers, running her hands around them. Her touch burned, and Danek pulled his arm back. It only made him angrier. In what world would Kienna’s touch ever hurt him?
He set his jaw. “I need to get out of here.”
Danek swung his legs over to the other side and reached for the knob.
He yelled from the exertion of his fingers, but he pushed through the pain to get the door back open and again to leave the apartment, and then once more to get out onto the streets of Dove Port.
He turned toward the shipyard. He thought about climbing the boat the Blades helped build, but Danek couldn’t climb anymore.
He thrust his fist into the wood. His knuckles blistered and cracked open.
He didn’t care about the pain anymore. Fuck Tislin.
Fuck the shadows. Fuck Connak. Fuck all of it!
“You done?” Connak’s voice came from behind.
Danek turned. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“How are the hands?”
“They fucking hurt. How do you think they are?”
“Can you move them better now?”
Danek glared at him, yet he couldn’t deny that his fingers did feel looser. He hated that Connak knew what he was talking about. Danek wanted to feel angry. “My magic still hasn’t found its way back.”
Connak shrugged. “Not through your fingers. Have you tried your palms? Or your wrists? Maybe your eyes?”
“My eyes?”
“You can perform magic through any channel. We choose our hands because it is natural and makes the most sense.”
Danek let out a sharp, jagged laugh. “Should I shoot rays then?”
Connak remained calm. Danek hated how collected Connak stood most of the time.
Which was why he hated him so much for leaving them.
He couldn’t begin to understand whatever he and Kienna were arguing about.
He barely understood their mental connection, but it had gotten bad enough to make him leave.
“Use your focus. Take the wind, for example,” Connak pointed to the air. “You only have to look at it and use your heart to channel it.”
If Broan were there, he would say that was corny as shit.
Using your heart was meant for the women, he could almost hear Broan’s jesting tone.
And maybe the pretty boy who did nothing but use his heart.
Danek missed him. Broan would have gone in blazing to fight shadows.
It didn’t matter if he knew how to fight them or not.
He’d find a way to do it. He wanted to be fearless like Broan.
“You can be angry at us. No one had your back in there when shit hit the wall, but let us help you now. Your hands will come back.”
“The pain is beyond anything I can describe.”
“Shadow magic is a bitch.” Connak glanced at Danek’s hands again, acknowledging the mangled knuckles. “Go back up. Eat. I’ll take extensive measures for the pain after. We’re leaving tonight, but we shouldn’t leave Kienna and Moira up there alone with the Astrael brothers.”
“Tristian and Tislin?”
Connak nodded. “They don’t use their surname often. Not since their father died. That’s beside the point. I need to go find the woodcarver. I don’t think anything bad will happen on Tristian’s watch…but it’s already tense up there.”
“What’s wrong with Calder?” Danek asked.
“Kienna couldn’t find him. Neither could Ruva, but they didn’t wander far before she got worried about you, actually,” Connak said.
Danek raised a brow. Though the sentiment was nice, he didn’t imagine Kienna would drop her concern for the woodcarver. She gave so much energy to him. It would have been out of character.
“Okay, I called her. But she still came.”
“Should we…maybe talk about her… I mean… I think it’s clear that we both have—”
“I think that whatever you think is between me and Kienna is complicated, and it will probably be there to stay, so if you want to keep at it, you’ll have to keep that in mind.”
Danek wasn’t sure what else to say to that.
He couldn’t tell if Connak was threatening him or telling him the truth.
It felt honest…but also like a stake of territory.
He’d never had to deal with this before.
He’d had a trail of women pining after him in River Storm, but he didn’t get to have relationships, so he’d never built the skills of resolving conflicts like this.
Danek liked Connak and didn’t think he wanted to duel. That didn’t seem appropriate.
He only nodded. “Okay, then.”
—Moira—
Moira set white plates around the table.
She should have been resting, not standing on her feet all day.
When Tislin finally woke, he stumbled out and begged Moira to sit as he apologized profusely for everything.
She was only grateful that she had everyone alive in front of her, ready to eat the meal she spent too long preparing.
Danek finally returned, almost with better spirits and nearly flexible fingers. Connak must have gotten him to open up, but Danek didn’t want to talk about it. Kienna tried to get him to talk. It was unlike Danek not to respond. Kienna sat, immediately bringing her fingers to her mouth.
“Stop,” Danek whispered.
Moira watched them as she called Tristian and Tislin to the table. Tristian rose from the sofa with an ancient-looking book tucked under his arm and approached. “Connak?”
“Should be back with Ash soon,” Kienna said, picking at the edge of her nail, and then disappeared mentally. Moira never noticed it before Dove Port, but when Kienna went into her head, whether it be to talk to Ruva or Connak, she’d stare idly into space, as if looking at something.
Moira hoped she never did that in the middle of a fight.
They’d kill her instantly unless she learned how to task through it.
She set the chicken out on plates for everyone, still watching Kienna when Tislin grazed his hand over her shoulder and sat.
She jumped, then glowed. Shadows or no shadows, Moira was elated to see Tislin.
“Sit, Sunbeam,” he said, begging her with his stormy eyes. Her heart tugged for him, so she sat. “Thank you for this. It is not often that we all have a fine dinner such as this.”
“Yes,” Tristian cleared his throat, tugging at the book in his arm. “It’s a nice sentiment away from our duty.”
Tislin’s eyes hardened. “We are not always bound by duty.”
Tristian opened his book and leaned back in the chair. His speckled green and blue eyes focused on the words inside. “Some of us aren’t.”
“Why are you not back behind the wards? Do you not know the shadows are free?” Tislin’s jaw set.
Even in the worst of scenarios, the tension between them remained high.
She wished Tislin would talk to her about it, tell her why he and his brother couldn’t stand each other. She held his hand instead.
Danek attempted to cut his chicken and dropped his utensils. His hands covered the bridge of his nose.
“I can cut it for you,” Moira offered.
“Please don’t.” Danek waved her away and tried again.
The table fell silent, only the sounds of clinking metal on glass echoing.
Moira met Kienna’s gaze and found she was smiling at her.
It warmed Moira’s heart to have one friendly face in the room when she tried so hard to diffuse the awkwardness.
She had to admit that even she felt tense.
Tislin and Tristian could barely converse without snapping.
Danek’s usual light demeanor was darkened by his hands. Connak hadn’t even returned yet.
The sunrays were sinking low in the sky.
“This poem has your name in it,” Tristian said to Kienna. A pleasant interruption to the silence.
“Which one?” Kienna asked, hopping up and peering over Tristian’s shoulder.
She squinted as she leaned in further, her hand grazing Tristian’s arm.
Before Moira could protest, her baby moved.
She couldn’t do this here. In front of all of them.
She tightened her hand on Tislin’s and attempted to move, but her body remained locked, and her vision swirled.
Her breath caught as the room blurred. Tristian’s face melted into smoke, and Kienna’s cup shattered without a sound.
Moira tried to turn again, but the walls vanished.
The table gone. Her feet were buried in endless snow beneath a violet sky choked in clouds.
Her child appeared next to her, taking her hand. Moira’s heart warmed.
A scream echoed from ahead. A pale woman with bright, orange hair tangled down her back.
Baila.
She was dragging a body through the snow. Blood painted her arms to the elbow. She fell to her knees and howled, but her voice split in two. It was her own filled with a low, growling tone that didn’t belong to her.
“Why are we seeing Baila?” Moira asked, stepping forward.
“She is broken, Mama.”
In front of them was a chasm yawning open beneath the snow. At the bottom, a ribcage the size of a house twitched. A voice whispered, “Come, my child.”
Above it, the king stood cloaked in pure black.
Baila knelt beside him, eyes blank and mouth stitched shut with silver thread.
She didn’t fight. Moira tried reaching for her, but flames burst behind her.
They were in the burning forest of Trinity now.
In the flames stood Kienna, untouched by the fire.
Behind her stood a shadowed man. A Shade?
He certainly looked like the descriptions of what Tislin had told her.
He didn’t face Moira, but she knew his stance.
She’d seen that same stance commanding armies. He was crowned in fire and smoke.
The crown cracked and then the ground.
The stitching from Baila’s mouth ripped open as she screamed, “You’ll never trust me in time! The world will burn by her hand.”
Moira gasped and pushed back. Her plate rattled as her hands slammed into the table as Kienna tsked, “I can’t even read that language. How do you know?”
“Are you okay?” Tislin asked Moira.
Her eyes fell on Tristian, growing wider. She never actually saw anything that happened, only random prophecies that she could never confirm. Her heart raced. She didn’t think she’d be sharing this one with Tislin. It hit too close to home. She only smiled. “I think I’m more tired than I thought.”
“Do you want to lie down?” Kienna asked.
Tislin’s eyes remained fixed on her, brow furrowed.
“Yes, I think so,” Moira said. She stood and turned toward her room, then she stopped.
Her heart drummed against her chest, thinking about going back into her room after the shadows.
She’d been able to bring Tislin back, but not before the damage had been done.
And there was the matter of the blood. She’d need a new mattress. Her shoulders slumped.
“Come.” Kienna was next to her now. She didn’t realize she’d moved. Her hands went to Moira’s elbow. “I’ll lie with you.”
“We have guests,” Moira said, her voice trailing.
Kienna ignored her and brought her into her room.
She helped Moira lie down and sat next to her, removing her sling to embrace her fully.
When she started running her fingers through Moira’s black curls, it startled her at first. Moira never thought Kienna to be gentle.
Not even close to motherly. Or even sisterly.
She might have been different with Jacob, but King Vaerin made her selfish.
Not selfish like Baila. Baila had entitlement. Kienna was afraid.
Feeling Kienna next to her now, though…shame prickled up Moira’s chest. She couldn’t think Kienna was selfish at all.
Something about Dove Port managed to open her up to a whole new world.
Moira leaned into the feeling of her hair being brushed.
No one had ever done it before, and it was as comforting as she’d imagined.
Her head tingled, and it calmed her enough to forget about her vision.
She wasn’t even sure what to do with them aside from feeling afraid.
She’d seen the woodcarver, too, once, and he only turned out to be a drunk that Kienna managed to help. Not a threat as he appeared.
Would the same apply to Tristian?