Chapter 25
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Anamlae responds differently these days. As though she’s trying to tell me something. She’s burning brighter. Hotter. But not the controlled flames she started with. Something else entirely.
— From the journal of Violet Andrever
Unlike most nights, I knew this one was a dream.
A woman sat at a desk, writing, the light in the room dim, barely enough to see by. Her hair was the same shade of black as mine, but curly where mine was straight.
I approached her from behind, my footsteps silent. Coming alongside her, I glimpsed her face. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course it was Violet.
She didn’t know I was there, or maybe she just didn’t care. I looked down at what she was writing in the freshly bound leather journal. The sight of it was familiar, but I couldn’t place it, the memory dancing just out of reach.
She looked directly at me and jumped, before relaxing with “Oh, it’s you.” She put her quill down and folded her hands. “Figure it out yet, kiddo?”
When I woke in the morning, I was shocked to find Griff still next to me. He was on his side, hazel eyes warm with concern darting over my face.
“How do you feel?” he asked, his voice as soft as his eyes.
“Drained,” I answered honestly. Both physically and emotionally.
He reached out and toyed with the long tail of my braid. “I was supposed to be gone for most of today, back by this evening. But if you prefer—”
“No, go. Do what you need to.” Although I was touched that he’d offer to change his plans for me.
With a long look, judging my sincerity, he started to get out of bed. Before he could, I flung my arms around him, squeezing him tightly. A silent thank you. He held me to him, hand running over my hair—a silent promise to always be there.
“I’ll be back by this evening,” he whispered into my hair.
As the door closed softly behind him, the dream came back to me.
I could sit here and wallow, or I could try to figure out what Violet meant.
The more I learned about her, the more convinced I was that she knew something that had been lost in the fifty years since she had been killed. If only I could have talked to her…
The image of the journal came back to me. This time it jogged my memory—Nana pressing a small leather-bound journal into my hands right before I departed into the unknown.
I went straight to my closet. I dug through dresses and fighting leathers, shirts and pants, searching through everything for my old coat.
Please be here, I begged any god that was listening.
And there, deep in the back, was my faded coat.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I drew it out.
For a moment, I just hugged it. It still smelled like autumn back home—crisp apples, pumpkins, cinnamon.
Closing my eyes, I could imagine myself striding through the wheat fields, the stalks crunching beneath my feet.
Shaking off the shroud of nostalgia that threatened to bring back the tears, I dug through the pockets. There it was—looking significantly more worn than in my dream.
I had Violet’s journal.
I curled up back in bed and flipped through it, my aunt’s handwriting as fresh on the page as the day she wrote it. I knew I didn’t have time to read it cover to cover at this moment, but surely if there was the information I desperately needed, it would jump out at me.
Or so I thought.
What I read contained wonderful accounts of Violet’s days, described in such a way that made me think we’d have gotten along famously if she had lived.
And every time there was a mention of my parents, my heart soared.
Interspersed with those stories were cryptic statements that I had no idea how to decipher.
Hours later, as I heard the bells chime and realized I was late meeting Finn, I was no closer to understanding the dream, why Nana had given me Violet’s journal, or what exactly I was supposed to do.
I hurriedly got dressed and made my way to the front yard. Finn was leaning against one of the stone archways before the castle gates, looking remarkably relaxed. Hopefully he’d had a good time last night.
He pushed off the wall as soon as he saw me, hurrying over. “Lexie, I just heard. Are you—”
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” I said softly.
“Then we won’t. Are you up for training today, or—”
“Yes. Let’s keep with whatever you had planned.” I needed to make progress somewhere.
He gave me a hesitant grin. “In that case, today is teleporting day.”
Watching my face, he chuckled a little as my stomach churned in anticipation. Nothing like the challenge of hurling myself into the unknown to distract me from murder.
“You’re ready,” he assured me.
I didn’t believe him.
“Now, I don’t have my body channel, and our master teleporter has wandered off again, but as best I understand it…”
He lost me in his explanation, but I got the basics—pull body and mind together, with a bit of earth, and think about where you want to go, then just go there. Sounded simple enough. What the hell. How bad could this be?
Famous last words.
I wished Griff was here, teaching me how to do this.
A golden light blazed within me as I did what Finn said and flung myself into the ether. I felt the familiar nausea-inducing, swirling sensation, then landed hard into something. Or someone, I corrected as I heard a loud thud with an “Oof,” then a “The fuck?” and then incredulously, “Princess?”
Warmth spread through my body as strong arms clutched my elbows to steady me.
I raised my head and looked down at him from where I was pressed firmly against him. We were lying on the ground, Griff flat on his back with me on top of him, our hips pinned together. Guess I’d found our teleporter.
“Hi.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I opened my mouth to answer—then the nausea hit and I rolled off him to double over.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Griff leapt out of the way to avoid getting vomit all over him, but like the true gentleman that he was, he held back my hair.
When I thought I was done, I hesitantly raised my head.
“Princess, I swear by all the gods—” He cut himself off, helping me move away from the vomit.
I sank onto some stone steps, my stomach still churning.
Where were we?
I had just been trying to go across the yard.
This didn’t look like anywhere I had ever seen.
I was sitting on massive stone steps, a huge stone building behind me.
In front of me were rows of half-timbered houses, stretching up three to four stories.
The timber and plaster of several houses had been painted—ochre with cream, burnt sienna with a red so light it could almost be called white, dark-gray timber with light-gray plaster, contrasting colors that made the timber stand out from the rest of the house.
Several of them had window planters with flowers flowing out of them.
A few buildings had ivy climbing the brick walls, snaking up the sides and adding a splash of green.
“Finn, I’ve got her,” I heard loud and clear.
I felt Finn’s relief, then Griff berating him for attempting teleporting with me, especially today of all days. I blocked them out until they were just background noise as I put my head between my knees and waited for the nausea to pass.
He rubbed my back as I focused on my breathing. “So you want to learn how to teleport?”
“Not really.” My voice was muffled against my knees.
He chuckled, never ceasing the calming motions on my back. “When I left you this morning, you were tucked in your bed, safe and sound. How do you always end up where I least expect you?” He sounded like he was both exasperated and amused.
“Luck?” I offered weakly as I attempted to raise my head. Nope, bad idea.
He chuckled again. That was two in about as many minutes. I was on a roll. He continued the soothing motion over my back until I started to feel better.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Ventaris,” came the short reply.
Right. He had mentioned that last night. I tried to dredge up my mental map of Serentyn but couldn’t place this town.
“And where the hell is Ventaris?”
The corner of his mouth twitched up. “In Norethgale. On the northern border. Where were you trying to go?”
“Across the yard,” I admitted.
Something rippled across his face, too quickly for me to figure out what it was. He stood, hand extended to haul me to my feet, the sun shining down on him. “Come on, I’ll get you back.”
“Wait.” I lifted my hand to shade my eyes from the glare of the sun. “I’ve never been here.” I ignored his outstretched hand and pulled myself up by the banister. There was only so much help I could take at once. “Can you show me around before we go back?”
He looked torn.
I placed my hand on his chest, and I could have sworn his breath caught.
“Please? I really do want to see more of my kingdom. And just a day away from all that…” I waved my hand in a vague motion encompassing the insanity of Valdris.
“Clear my head. From the problem of the Veil and… everything else.”
Like the fact that I’d killed two men.
He understood instantly what I meant and I was grateful he didn’t address it. He just motioned forward with his arm, and we set off down the stairs.
The streets were similar to those in Valdris, as though they had been built at a similar time.
Although this town was significantly less complicated to navigate, which made sense since it was by the northern ocean rather than built into a mountaintop.
The ocean air smelled different than the one at Griff’s home.
When I commented on that, he explained that it had something to do with the climate and wind patterns.
The sea was rougher up here. No longer the smooth, crystal-clear waters, but darker and stormy.