Chapter 16
sixteen
. . .
Ever
No.
I shake my head and keep following Ten.
Nobody except for me and Ten knows that we can still communicate with one another, and right now, it’s the only lifeline we have. That I have.
I ignore Kalan, who’s behind me. “I’m sorry, Ten.” I shout the words, desperate to make sure he hears.
“Look out for him, Ever. I don’t trust Kalan.”
“I don’t either.” But as the anger simmers down, I know I need to hear what Kalan has to say. I swallow down the fear that comes with that admission.
“I’m so sorry, Ten.” The words rush into my mind, as if I need to tell him while I can. “You’ll never know how grateful I am that you’re here.”
The connection between us wavers, but I can still feel him, and I wait, anxious to hear him inside my mind again.
“You never have to be sorry, Ever. And you’ll never be in the dark again.”
“The cave is at the base of a mountain,” I blurt. “Past a large boulder, surrounded by trees.” I’m aware that I’m not alone and can’t stay locked in our mental communication too much longer.
“Why are you so focused on the trees? Don’t worry. I told you I wouldn’t harm your friends.”
I pull my focus to my brother, who’s at my side. “Sorry if I choose not to believe anything you have to say to me.”
“Still struggling with trust, I see.”
“That goes both ways. Now, I presume I’m not going to be locked away in that cave again now that it has two new guests.”
“You’ll have sufficient accommodations. Don’t worry. Shall we go and hear what Kalan has to say? I’ve been looking forward to this.” That bitter taste is back in my mouth at the thought.
When I was in Kirrasia, I hoped I’d finished figuring out who to trust and who not to.
My thirst for the truth was a weakness. Lyle had made it my weakness by sheltering me from everything.
Yet, despite knowing all of this, I have to hear what he has to say.
I need the pieces of information, even if they might be tainted with time and poison.
Turning, I’m relieved to see it’s only Fenix with me, and I take a deep breath and follow towards the small camp where the Usher welcomed me when I arrived.
Kalan’s already sat on one of the logs, but stands as I approach.
“Do you have to be here for this?” Kalan grunts at Fenix.
“Yes, who else is going to provide the measure for your words, Kalan? I know you’re lenient with the truth.”
“You don’t get to dictate this, Kalan. You’ve had the chance to talk to me—every time you visited us when I was growing up,” I say.
He nods, and a soft smile lurks behind his scruffy beard. “Fair.”
I take a seat as far away from him as possible. But before I ask him my first question, I push my power towards Ten, a mental pull on our connection, to give me the courage knowing he’s here with me.
“Why did you tell Fenix so much when you chose to keep everything a secret from me. Did Lyle know, too?”
“Lyle only knew that you needed a home—someone to care for you. She was a Watcher and had been living in Estereah for only a short time. She was sheltered from much of what went on leading up to the fight.”
“But why? Why did you ask a stranger to look after a baby?” None of this was making any sense.
“Your parents came to me while they were in exile from The Chamber for betraying the command of the Orders. They were on the brink of war and needed to protect you. Both of you.” He looks between us, and even Fenix has lost his ego at Kalan’s words.
“I gave them my word that I would see you safe. Both of you. And that I would protect you. A vow like that isn’t one that I take lightly.
And I don’t intend to stop, even though you are now both of age. ”
There’s too much of what he’s just said that I want to latch onto, but I opt for the simplest of follow-ups. “Of age?”
“You have undergone your Transference, Ever. You are of age according to Kirrian rule.”
“But Fenix hasn’t. He wasn’t taken to Kirrasia?” I check.
“No. The Usher saw to Fenix’s training. When Fenix started his awakening, the Usher chose to risk Fenix’s power and channel it in a different way, under Novandia’s rule, rather than Aslendrix.”
Why weren’t we kept together? Why didn’t Lyle take us both? If Kalan knew my parents, why didn’t anyone warn me about magic, about my powers? The storm of questions invades my mind and rains down on me, each one beating in my chest to be set free.
But above all, there is one question. One truth I need to know.
“My parents. Where are they? Why didn’t we go back to them?
” Fenix has teased and dangled information that I would have done anything to have, bartering it away as freely as if it were scraps of unwanted food instead of the treasure it was.
He knows the answer to this, yet hasn’t shared, and I hate him for that most of all.
“They couldn’t. Their… sacrifice was the greatest.”
My heart stutters. “Why, Kalan?” I press, but I fear the words he’ll say next, because I know the answer.
He looks at Fenix, who has hung his head, the flames of the fire dancing light over his silhouette, highlighting the russet colours of his hair.
“They’re dead.” His voice is softer than I’ve heard, as if that can make up for the hammer blow of his words to my heart. “I’m sorry, Ever.”
“It’s fine. I didn’t know them.” The lie chokes in my throat, strangling my heart as I stand up and walk away.
“Don’t wander too far, Sister.”
“Fuck you, Fenix.”
I stride off, not knowing in what direction I’m travelling, but needing to be alone, to let the information sink in.
“Are you okay?” Ten’s voice is at the back of my mind. “You feel… sad.” Sad. Such a small word, and wholly insufficient for how big my emotions are right now. “Even here, I can feel you, although it’s as if you’re a long way away.”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie. You hate them. I hate them.”
“I can’t do this with you now, I’m sorry. Not like this. Just…”
I shut my mind off, build a wall around it, and come back to the information I’m processing. I never knew them, so why does it still hurt? A tear drops to my cheek, and I swipe it the second I feel it, as if I can brush away the feelings, too.
“Kalan said our magic would work differently here. It’s not as strong for me.
He made me practice on the journey over.
” Ten’s got better at knocking through shields, and I love that he’s trying to distract me from what I’m feeling, but it’s too much right now.
I close my eyes to the strange trees around me as I focus on the words that pushed me here.
I’ve been in the dark and assumed that finding the light—finding the truth—would help. But knowing my parents were dead all this time only kills the small burning candle of hope that was inside of me.
I wrestle with telling Ten and sharing the information that he had started to uncover, but I don’t want to do it like this. He’s a prisoner because of me. Kept in a cave after being led here, and no doubt, lied to.
And Crimson…
“Is Calix okay? Why is Crimson here?” My turn to change the subject.
“He’s fine. But Crim has a score to settle with your brother. We all do.”
“He’s too dangerous. We can’t do anything until we find a weakness, or I’ve jumped through the hoops they want, and I’m strong enough to take him on.”
It’s his turn to go quiet over our connection.
“Ten?”
“Sorry. We’re going to see where the cave leads?”
“Are you serious?” I stop my aimless wander, panic rising through me at the memory of the dark and cold path into the mountain.
“I’m not going to sit and wait for something to happen. Stars, they could leave us here to rot.”
“I won’t let that happen,” I vow.
“Kalan only promised to get us to you. Nothing more. But we’ll work out a plan. I promise. I love you.”
“I love you. And I promise I’ll tell that to you in person when I can.”
As the light fades through the trees, I realise I’ve been left out here alone for a long time. Much longer than I’d have anticipated. Fenix hasn’t sent anyone after me, nor has he come to bring me back himself.
It feels like a failure to pick my way back to their camp and ask for their food and shelter. But I’m not about to be that foolish. Not when Ten and Crimson are here.
Dusk has arrived early in camp, the trees acting like a personal blanket, blocking the last of the light, as if sheltering us, preparing us for Aslendrix’s rule.
Kalan isn’t there waiting. Fenix is.
Despite the truths he spilt, my disappointment at not being able to ask anything further is surprising. I’d painted him as the villain, and he might still be, but there’s so much of the story to fill in.
“Where is everyone?” I ask, the fire still slowly crackling, the flames softly kissing the air around them.
“The night isn’t our favourite time. We prefer the day.”
“Is there a reason for that, or is it just a riddle? Now that I know our parents are dead, I thought you might stop playing with truths.”
“I’m not playing at anything, Ever.”
“I’m not in the mood to argue, Fenix.”
“You squandered your opportunity for the truth, playing your own tricks on the journey over here. Don’t cry now as if I was the one to keep all of this from you.”
“I said, I don’t want to argue with you.”
My frustration ignites, red-hot and scorching as I release a stream of darkness, thick as cloud around us. Similar to before. Only this time it’s more concentrated, as if it wants to block out and shield me from Fenix, keeping him at bay.
It coats everything around us, and the more I watch, the more it invades. The sizzle of the fire suffocating under my cloak of power only sparks the realisation that I am doing this.
I wait for the paralysis, but it doesn’t come. Fenix doesn’t stop me with his power—it’s only my own that I feel. It’s a reaction. Perhaps a defence. Certainly dangerous. As my own shadows pull my attention, the slip of emotion follows.
“Did you ever meet them? Our parents?” I ask, letting go of some of the hurt that’s inside of me.
“No.”
“You lied to me on the ship. You told me you knew where they were.”
“I didn’t lie. I do know.”
“But they’re dead.”
“I know where they are buried.”
The words are like a final blow. He knew they were gone, and even more, he knows where they are at rest.
“You’re learning. But don’t waste it just because you’re angry.”
The Maker made me believe that emotion would be a hindrance to my power, but maybe it isn’t. If I can use my power—let it manifest as something physical—when I’m emotional, rather than relying on touch, to pull or absorb power, then I can fight.
“I’d like to go to bed.”
“In the dark?” The mockery in his voice is clear, but it does nothing to help me pull back the darkness I’ve created. I think of Kyra—the only calming influence I have—and imagine we’re back in my room, the dancing snowflakes swirling around our heads.
As I picture the scene, the dark splotches of shadow fade like the melting snowflakes in my room.
“Is your band of outlaws done with my new cell?”
“We’re not outlaws, Ever. We have the same beliefs as our parents. You’ve only known your own magic for a matter of weeks. Don’t deign to judge them as outlaws for fighting for a better life.”
His comment is surprising and leaves me with no answer to spar with. “Bed?”
Fenix stands and walks from the main area towards his own tent.
“I’m not sharing a tent with you,” I protest.
“No, you’ll try to kill me in my sleep. You’ll be here.” He steps out and around the draped area where he prepared our breakfast, and I see another smaller tent, probably only big enough for a small cot bed. He pulls back the drapes of fabric and lets me in.
Stepping inside, I look around, and I’m right. There’s a small cot similar to Fenix’s, a table, and a lamp. And then I notice the thick wooden posts, less than a foot apart, encircling me.
“Sleep well.” Fenix pulls the wooden gate closed on me before sliding a log into place, barring my exit, and lets the fabric drop back into position, camouflaged from the outside.
“Great.” I’m back in a cell. Just a prettier one.