Chapter 40 Kailin
KAILIN
"Dreamers walk between worlds.
Some nights the path is theirs to choose, other nights it chooses them."
—Shaman Erasme Kaine
The conversation lingered in my mind long after the others had retired to their rooms.
Our combined analysis of Elusitor worship was disturbing. The mechanics of conversion made a terrible kind of sense. The targeting of vulnerable children, the use of drugs to create transcendent experiences, and the building of cages made of addiction and ideology.
Understanding the enemy didn't make them less monstrous, but it did make them less mysterious.
I stood at the kitchen counter and poured hot water over the tea leaves. The familiar bitter smell rose with the steam, earthy and floral. Half dose, Saphir had said. Every other night.
Tonight was an every-other-night.
I carried the cup to our room and put it on the nightstand.
Behind me, Alar was getting ready for sleep, or rather for sitting in the armchair he'd brought from the common room so he could watch over me while I slept.
"You're not doing this tonight," I said. "No armchair. No vigil. You're getting in bed with me."
"Kailin—"
"You can't do this every night, Alar."
"I slept last night."
"Sleeping every other night is not enough, and we have finals tomorrow. You need to be sharp."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're running on fumes and stubbornness.
" I moved to stand in front of him. "I know you're worried, and that you want to protect me, but you can't protect me from my own dreams even if you hold me in your arms, let alone from over here.
But I much prefer falling asleep with you holding me. " I offered him a hand up.
He didn't take my hand. "I don't like this."
"I know. But you are going to bed anyway. I'm not accepting no as an answer."
I could be just as stubborn as he was, and I wasn't compromising on this.
He resisted for another moment, then sighed. "Fine. But you have to promise to wake me up if you have a disturbing dream."
"I promise."
Reluctantly, he climbed into bed, but instead of lying down, he sat propped against the headboard with that watchful expression that told me he wasn't planning to sleep anytime soon.
"Lie down," I said.
"I am lying down."
"You're sitting."
He gave me a look that might have been exasperation or amusement, it was sometimes hard to tell with him, but he shifted lower, settling his head on the pillow.
I reached for the tea and drank it slowly, grimacing at the taste. I would never get used to it, even if I had to drink it for the rest of my life.
"I still wish you wouldn't do this," Alar said quietly.
"I know, but you chose to fall in love with a shaman in training, and that means all kinds of compromises. Watching me drink this tea is probably one of the easiest ones you'll have to make."
He smiled and pulled me into his arms. "You can be very convincing when you put your mind to it."
"I only speak the truth."
"Right." He kissed the top of my head. "Sometimes, your truth cuts."
I wondered what he meant by that, but the tea was already working, and warmth was spreading through my limbs.
The edges of the room began to soften.
"I love you," I said, because I was about to drift away from him into a realm he couldn't follow.
"I love you too." He kissed my forehead. "May your dreams be pleasant and uneventful."
"From your mouth to Elu's ear."
"Come back to me," he whispered.
"Always."
I closed my eyes and let go.
The transition was gentle at first.
I drifted through familiar consciousnesses, starting with the mountain owl from before, a fox, then the hawk who was settling into its roost for the night. I was glad I wasn't connecting to anyone new.
No new connections meant less drain on my energy.
The world was peaceful, the night creatures going about their business without any unusual disturbances.
I moved along the familiar paths, hopping from one to another and following their ordinary activity.
There were no amassing forces in the mountains, no Shedun armies preparing to attack, no converts skulking through shadows with weapons drawn, just the quiet pulse of life doing what life did. Surviving.
And yet, something tugged at me, a current that was pulling me out of the animal consciousnesses and tugging me somewhere else.
Suddenly, I was inside the Citadel, and it was chaos.
The halls were filled with smoke, and the air was thick with the smell of blood. Bodies lay crumpled against walls, some in cadet uniforms, others in the garb of instructors and support staff. Blood pooled on the stone floors.
No. Not this again.
I tried to pull back, to wrench myself out of the vision, but the dream held me fast. I was floating through the corridors without willing it, my perspective shifting like the smoke.
The common room of our apartment. Shattered furniture. Codric slumped against the wall, his chest still, his eyes staring at nothing. Shovia crumpled beside him, her knife still clutched in her hand. Morek was in the doorway, as if he'd been trying to reach them when he fell.
No. No, no, no.
The bedroom. Our bedroom. The window broken, curtains stirring in the wind, the smell of ash and copper.
Alar!
He lay on the floor beside the bed, his blue eyes open, his hand reaching toward where I would have been sleeping. Blood soaked his shirt, spreading in a dark pool beneath him.
I ran to him, fell to my knees beside him, but my hands passed through him like smoke. I couldn't help him.
"Kailin." His voice was a whisper, fading. "Some fates... can't be changed."
The same words. The same terrible, final words he'd spoken in my last nightmare.
I screamed, or tried to, but no sound came out. I was suffocating.
Wake up. I had to wake up.
I forced my awareness inward, away from the vision, away from Alar's still body. It was like swimming against a riptide, every inch of progress requiring tremendous effort. The dream didn't want to let go of me.
But I pulled stronger, clawing my way toward consciousness, toward the reality that was nothing like the nightmare.
And then I was awake. I won, I got free, but the price was a terrible headache.
Sharp pain lanced through my skull, centered behind my eyes. I gasped, my free hand flying to my temple as if I could press the agony back inside. For a long moment, I couldn't do anything but lie there, breathing through the pain, waiting for the worst of it to pass.
Beside me, Alar slept peacefully.
His breathing was deep and even, his face relaxed in a way I rarely saw when he was awake. His arm was still around me, his body warm, solid, alive.
Alive. He was alive.
I wanted to wake him and tell him about the nightmare, let him hold me until the images faded, but I couldn't tell him that I'd seen him die.
Again.
He needed the rest, and he so rarely got any. The dark circles under his eyes had grown deeper over the past few days, and it was because of me.
I lay still, controlling my breathing, so he wouldn't wake.
The headache pulsed with every heartbeat. The price of forcing myself awake in the middle of a vision.
Had it been a vision, though?
The prophetic dreams felt different. They were diffused, spread across many consciousnesses, full of concrete details that later proved true. This had been singular. Focused. A nightmare rather than a prophecy.
Except, it was the second time I had the same dream. The second time that Alar died in my arms, saying those same words. It had to mean something.
Some fates can't be changed.
Had the dreams been a warning about a fate that I was supposed to change but failed to do so?
The thought was unbearable. I pushed it away, but it kept creeping back, persistent like the pain behind my eyes.
I turned my head carefully to look at Alar. The aurora lights tonight were bright enough for me to see him clearly. He was so beautiful inside and out. His loyalty. His courage. His tenacity. His willingness to sacrifice for the people he loved.
He'd killed a man to save me. He'd given up his future as a prince to stay by my side. And now he was destroying himself with worry.
All because he loved me.
And I was going to get him killed.
The certainty settled into my bones like ice. The fear was so profound that it felt like truth. My gift attracted danger. My enemies would keep coming, keep trying to eliminate me, and the people around me would pay the price.
Shovia had said she was tired of watching me be targeted by assassins. Alar had said he couldn't lose me. But what if I lost them instead? What if my survival came at the cost of everyone I loved?
The headache throbbed. I pressed my fingers harder against my temple, as if pressure could silence the thoughts along with the pain.
I should tell Saphir about the nightmare. Both of them. They might mean something. They might be warnings I didn't know how to interpret.
But what if interpreting them made them real?
What if acknowledging the possibility of Alar's death would somehow bring it about?
That was superstitious nonsense. I knew that. But lying in the dark with my head splitting and my heart racing, reasoning was hard to do.
Three days until the Day of Volition, two really, because it was probably after midnight. Two days until I bonded with a dragon and everything changed.
Saphir had said the bond would give me strength, so maybe it would also give me clarity. Maybe once I was connected to a dragon, I would be able to interpret the dreams.
Or maybe I would just have more power to fuel more terrible nightmares.
I closed my eyes, then immediately opened them again. The image of Alar dying was waiting behind my eyelids, ready to replay itself the moment I lowered my guard.
I couldn't sleep. I was too afraid to drift off.
Some fates can't be changed.