Chapter Twelve #2
“One, I thought before tonight.” I neglect to mention how it was my fear and love for Ronan that allowed me to split the shadow.
I can see no benefit to him knowing the true nature of the shadow—he’ll realize that there’s no way for him to draw it out of me, which will make him give me up.
“But it’s all so new to me. I don’t know what the limits are. ”
“Oh, I would love to find out.” He smiles at me with something like admiration, and I can’t help but be touched by it.
Dammit, I have got to get over my need for my family’s approval.
Why should I care what Seth thinks of me, knowing how he is? Why can’t I let the desire to belong with them, the desire to make them proud, die?
“Can I ask you something?” I have his attention now, so it seems as good of a time as any to find out what his intentions are.
“Go on.”
“Why are you so interested? Do you know what it means?”
Seth holds up a finger, then he heads to a shelf full of books.
Gods, I pity the poor servant who’s going to have to carry all of this tomorrow.
Seth runs the finger over their spines until he finds the right one. He cracks it open, and a scrap of a page slips out. “Here it is,” he says, handing it to me. “Do you know what a palimpsest is?”
The sliver of paper is very old and thick, made of some material I don’t recognize. There doesn’t seem to be any writing on it. “No.”
“Back before we learned to make paper from our wood or Selaran reeds, we wrote on parchment. It was made with animal skins, which made it very expensive and difficult to come by. Thus, it was reused when the original texts were no longer of any use.”
“So you’re saying there was writing on here once?” I don’t see where he’s going with this, but I have no intention of stopping him.
“There is writing on there still,” he says, smiling slyly.
“I used an elixir to remove the second, newer text—a tedious history of land taxation. And then I used another elixir to reveal the text on it. That elixir fades over time, and I didn’t think to bring it with me, unfortunately, but the text is still there, waiting to be revealed. ”
Admittedly, I do find that interesting, but I’m still not sure what he means. “What did it say?”
“This scrap was from a book in Mother’s collection. She’s the one who taught me how to reveal it, of course. It describes a rare phenomenon involving extraordinary powers.”
Extraordinary powers. Like mine and Ronan’s. “What about them? Where’s the rest of the book?”
“Missing, I’m afraid. Likely somewhere within Pyka.
” Our former home, now under control of the Orsa.
“I stole this scrap without Mother’s knowledge.
It had a word on it that wasn’t explained that I wanted to remember so I could find out more about it.
I was still young then and thought I would be shadow-born. ”
My heart thrums in my ears. “What word?”
“Shadowbound,” he says. “It said that the extraordinary magic was first observed in the shadowbound, but I had no idea what that meant, and Mother didn’t know either, or at least she wouldn’t tell me. But now I think I know.”
He stands and approaches me, kneeling before me. “It’s you,” he whispers.
And then I see it. I see why Seth wants this so badly. He thought when he was younger that he would be shadowbound himself, that it would mean he was extraordinary, worth far more than Adria. It was the only thing he’d wanted all his life. To best her and to be free from her control.
And then he’d forgotten it until he heard the rumors about my magic. Until he realized that if he couldn’t beat Adria himself, he could do it with me.
But not with me as an ally. Not with me as an equal, a co-conspirator. A sister. But with me at his mercy, me as his prisoner, as his servant.
As his slave.
I am no one’s slave.
But if this is the part I need to play to stay under his watch until I can free Taran and get us back to Ronan, I will do it. “If it is me, what will I do?” I say, feigning fear and awe. Acting the part of the scared little sister who needs her big brother’s comfort.
“You,” he says, squeezing my hand, “will be extraordinary.”
With my shackles replaced and Seth snoring on the other side of the tent, I sink back into my bed to try to get some sleep before morning.
But just as my eyes close, I hear a voice. “Sylvie?”
“Taran?” I whisper back. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
He goes silent, and at first, I think it’s because Seth is stirring, but then I realize he likely doesn’t have much more to say to me.
“Taran, I’m so sorry. For everything, but especially for this.”
More silence. Has he fallen asleep?
I creep up from my bed, pausing when the chains clink and Seth’s snoring halts, but it quickly resumes. I sit on the floor next to Taran’s cot, my back to the tent post. He turns his head as I sit down. “Are you in pain? I can get the elixir.”
“No. What they gave me is still working.”
I lean back and close my eyes. Fuck, this is a mess.
Even if I manage to stay with Seth, it doesn’t mean Taran will be safe.
If anything, he’s more likely to suffer at Seth’s hands.
Adria would probably just throw him in a kennel and forget about him.
“I didn’t want any of this to happen. I just—” I choke on my words as I let myself think of Ronan, truly think of him for the first time tonight.
He was so close. So close that I could feel him. His determination to save me. His love and his longing. But worst of all, I could feel his fear.
I hate that he’s afraid, and it’s all my fault.
I choke back a sob. “I just love him so much, Taran. I didn’t want to love him. I shouldn’t love him, but I do. And if I had just let myself admit that earlier, if I could have trusted him and told him the truth—”
“I know,” says Taran. His voice isn’t gentle, but it isn’t cruel either. “I know you do.”
“And now you’re here, and I’m scared. I’m scared of what Seth is going to do to you. And I’m terrified of what Adria will do.”
“Is what you told Seth true? About your shadows? You can’t control them?”
Ronan didn’t tell him then. “No, but they won’t work without Ronan. But the longer I can keep Seth from finding that out, the better.”
Taran nods. His eyes harden. “I can handle whatever he does to me.”
“Taran,” I say, and then I shake my head. He’s going to torture Taran. My brother is going to torture him, and then he’s going to kill him, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him.
I can’t hold it in any longer. I’ve tried so hard to stay strong, to stay hopeful, to look out for opportunities, but I don’t know if I can endure this.
I need Ronan here. He believes in me more than anything. He believes in me beyond reason. I need some of his beautiful delusion right now.
Because all I have for myself right now is shame.
Tears flow down my face. I think of the last time I cried a few days ago when I finally told Ronan the truth. The way he looked at me like he didn’t know me at all. The pain I caused him, the war I let happen because of my weakness. My foolish belief that my siblings were worth saving.
Taran begins to sing softly.
Termen a grenok, archin a hemerow,
Po dolgos opone a mos,
Mos a korta mev po vayhel.
The tune is gentle and sweet, soothing. Taran keeps his voice low, cutting out in places, but he continues singing as I sob, turning his head to face me.
I don’t know any Orsan and can’t understand what he’s singing, can’t even tell if he’s singing different verses or repeating the same one, but slowly, the quiet rhythm of his melody calms me.
“What’s that?” I ask as my tears finally cease.
“A lullaby.”
“What does it mean?”
“The night will end, and the dawn will come. And all our woes will be behind us. We will dance once more under sunlit skies.”
I choke a little at the words. An Orsan lullaby, sung to a Nithyrian. Sung to the daughter of the people who caused those very woes. “Thank you.”
He nods, then turns his head.
I walk back to my bed quietly and lie down, shutting my eyes once more. But something occurs to me, and I can’t help but ask. “Have you sung it for Ronan?”
“Yes,” he whispers back. “During the war.”
My heart warms and aches to know of their love for each other. I will do anything to keep Taran safe. To bring him back to Ronan.
“Would you teach it to me?”