Chapter 69
Durvla
Seated in the grass in front of me, Kilkenny’s hands clench and unclench.
Alys sits to my right, and Chiyo and Osheen are a small distance away, sparring.
He’s actually starting to get the hang of it now, deflecting her blows more often and even landing a few punches himself.
I turn away from them and face Kilkenny, who has been avoiding any one-on-one time with me since I accidentally implied that I’d rather not have met him or anyone else from Mainland.
He slowly releases a breath, grimacing slightly. “We didn’t tell you everything because we were afraid of how you would react,” he motions.
“Well, that makes me feel so much better …” I pause, surprised at myself for even voicing such a disdainful comment. But I’m so tired of people hiding things from me.
“Do you remember back in Paramount when I provoked you during your first training? When I told you all those lies and irritated you enough that you’d be willing to hit me? You aimed to punch me, but what you really did was shove your powers at me.”
In that moment, I’d been so confused about how he’d fallen over when I couldn’t remember my fist making contact. Did you feel that? he’d asked. I hadn’t, but I’d thought I was just so angry that it masked any pain.
“Think about all the times that your vision went a little dark, or when you saw shadows that no one else saw. When you got angry with Carys the day she called you a waste of time. She was too preoccupied to notice, but I saw everything …”
That day, Kilkenny had been guarding the door. My vision had indeed gone dark around the edges, but seeing dark isn’t abnormal for me; it often precedes fainting. Kilkenny had glanced back at me and slowly shaken his head. After that, he’d insisted on training me under the cover of night.
I’m frowning deeply at him now. What is he trying to tell me?
“Each time, you’d felt something physical, inexplicable, right? A tingle in your hands? A buzz beneath your skin? A chill?”
I nod.
He breathes out again and glances over at Alys, who has been focused on me the whole time. Kilkenny turns back to me. “You’re not just a Dreamwalker. You’re also a Shadow Wielder.”
My chest constricts. “What?” I ask aloud.
“The daywalking is also not typical of a Dreamwalker. Not necessarily. Nor is puppet mastery—when you somehow managed to slip into my mind. There’s so much more about you that we don’t yet know. That I’ve been trying to figure out. But we’re finally certain that …”
He hesitates. I shift uncomfortably, impatiently, unable to stay still. “That what?”
“We believe you’re a Basduun.”
I jump to my feet, panic lancing through me.
My head protests and I stumble back, my arms flailing.
Kilkenny is up in less than a second, reaching out to me, but I maintain my balance and shove my hands toward him, keeping him at bay.
“Don’t,” I sign firmly. I don’t want him to touch me. I hardly want him to look at me.
My heart hammers, and I try to recall everything that had been explained to me about the Basduunai.
Dark magic. Corruption. Basduunai were feared and usually executed.
My stomach churns. Even when magic was accepted, Basduunai were not. I swallow hard as uncontrollable shivers rack my body, cold dread dancing up and down my spine.
Alys stands, but I glare at her as well. “You both kept this from me!” My signs are tense, my lips firmly sealed. I fear opening my mouth because I’m certain I’ll vomit on both of them if I do.
“I didn’t want to tell you because I feared this was how you’d react,” Kilkenny says.
A humorless laugh bursts from me, and I stare at him with all the appreciation of a cantankerous house cat. “You just told me I’m a Dark Mage that may one day be hells-bent on destroying the realm.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You might as well have!”
“That’s not how it works, sweetling,” Alys interjects.
“Haruka said it herself.” My throat constricts, my hands shaking as I sign. “That the good Basduunai refused to use their powers because they feared corruption. That they pushed down their powers so much, they often went mad.”
Kilkenny swears and aggressively swipes his hair from his forehead.
“Gods, you have an annoyingly good memory, but you’re looking at this too black and white.
It’s much more complex. Remember how Carys mentioned something about the solace of dusk?
Think of that. There’s something that can be comforting about your powers. ”
Comforting? I scoff.
“Being a Basduun does not automatically mean that you crave power. You’re not like that. Your personality isn’t going to change just because you’re aware that you possess these gifts.”
“Gifts …” Laughter swells in my throat even as tears threaten to spill. I turn my face away, but Kilkenny tilts his head back into my view, and it takes all my control not to shove him and walk away.
“I’ve waited to see if your shadow wielding would unintentionally manifest again like it did in Paramount, or when those headhunters attacked us a while back.”
It’s happened more than once and I didn’t even notice? My heart pounds, cold sweat beading on my back.
“I was waiting for the right time to tell you. I was hoping that you would come to terms with the dreamwalking, but I never expected the daywalking. You were already so unnerved by the powers you knew existed. I didn’t want to add to your plate.”
“What’s new?” I say. No one ever wants to add to my plate. “I don’t want this. Any of this!” I sign so hard that when I jab my finger at my chest, it hurts.
I’ve spent my entire life keeping my emotions obscured.
The last thing I ever wanted to do was draw attention to myself, so I shoved everything down into the deepest recesses of my being until it became second nature to hold back.
Drawing attention to this ridiculous Undesirable label forced upon me was too dangerous.
So, I played the hardworking botanist, the one who sacrificed the little free time she had to make deliveries to Ballybaeg.
I played the dutiful dressmaker in Paramount, the passive young woman who allows secrets about herself to be kept from her. The asset to the rebellion.
But I’ve had enough.
Anger and frustration ambush me, thrashing against barriers of self-control that I’ve taken years to build. I want to scream until I can’t anymore, to hit something, to cry. I need to get away, but Kilkenny starts toward me again as soon as I turn.
No! I swing my hand toward him, and the fury inside of me breaks through.
A black shadow arcs from my hand. Kilkenny flies backward, landing a short distance away. His hands take the brunt of the fall, and pain sparks on his face.
I clutch my left hand to my chest as it heaves with panicked breaths. “I’m sorry!”
It takes me a moment before I run toward him.
I plop down in the grass beside him at the same moment as Alys does.
Osheen and Chiyo come running. My heart matches their pace.
As frustrated as I am, I didn’t mean to hurt Kilkenny.
What if it happens again? What if I hurt more people?
If I lose control … Dark clouds swirl around my knees.
Dark clouds … of death. Of destruction. Shadow wielding is malevolent. What good could come from it? Solace is the antithesis of this power.
Haruka’s words loop in my mind. The name is literally translated from the old language as “death bringer.”
I’m a death bringer.
I jump up and step back quickly, my chest heaving more. Every muscle in my body is pulled too tightly.
“I’m fine,” Kilkenny signs, getting to his feet again.
He dusts off his hands and the back of his trousers.
“I need you to calm down.” He walks toward me, and I keep my hand clutched to my chest as I take a few more steps back.
More shadows swirl around me even as I keep my hands clasped.
I will my powers to stop, will that wall to go back up, but nothing happens. Osheen’s fear is almost tangible.
Chiyo regards me as though I’m a wonder of the world. “Lugda’s hells, Durvla.”
Kilkenny glowers at her. “Not helping. Give her space.”
I am a Dark Mage.
A Shadow Wielder.
I try to steady my breathing. Closing my eyes, I step backward. The tingling in my fingers intensifies, but I clench my fists even harder. I don’t want this power. I don’t want any of it. Wind whips around me, tugging free coils from my braids onto my face. I stand my ground, eyes squeezed shut.
Please, Sunlagh, let this be a nightmare!
Swallowing my emotions, I shove them down deep inside, along with the shadows and whatever other sources of darkness lay dormant.
I plop down in the grass and slam the door on those feelings.
A moment later, there’s a gentle hand on my knee.
“It’s me,” Kilkenny says into my mind. “I have your dampener.”
I open my eyes, and indeed, the bracelet dangles from its strings which are pinched between his fingers.
My shoulders drop with relief. I take it, but the moment the leather circles my wrist, pressure forces its way into my head.
I grit my teeth and yank it from my wrist, dropping it into the grass. “I can’t,” I whisper.
He nods. “Funny how that works, hmm? Once your body accepts your powers, it becomes harder and harder to smother them.” He smiles hesitantly before holding his hand out. I don’t take it, and he drops it to his side. “You have every right to be cross with me.”
“You’re damn right I do.”
“I should’ve told you sooner.”
I want to hold on to the anger and resentment. It would make everything so much easier. This overeager heart of mine would be calm. I lift my hands to say something, my lips firmly pressed together, but I don’t know what I even want to say.
“Can you forgive me?” Kilkenny asks, extending his hand to me again.
I don’t respond right away, but after a while, I finally take his hand and let him pull me to my feet. “No more secrets.”