Chapter 48
forty-eight
. . .
Ever
Despite Ten’s arms wrapped around me and his warmth invading my skin, he couldn’t keep the nightmares at bay. Sleep never truly claimed me, for I was held hostage by the events of the previous day playing over and over in my mind. I was agonising over details, sensations, and visions.
The vastness of the power that took me is an echo in the back of my mind, a shadow lurking amongst the pain of betrayal and the sting of death. My own actions, and my conscience screaming at me for giving in to the dark. Killing Fenix. Killing those others.
Tears stream down my face and soak into the pillow. I became the worst version of me, everything I thought I was fighting against, and I am guilty, as so many are in this mess.
I twist to watch Ten sleep. He’s peaceful. Calm. And it doesn’t matter how close we are because there is no magic between us. None gifted by Aslendrix, at least.
Perhaps being stripped of the magic that turned me into the monster is enough payment for my crimes.
Fenix killed Crimson. The Usher killed Kalan. I killed Fenix. And others.
The scared and overwhelmed girl who silently watched on as Lyle killed those men could never comprehend taking such actions herself, but I did. And I think I’d do it again.
Sunlight ebbs the darkness from the room, and Ten’s eyes open to me. His smile is my reward for surviving the night.
“Did you sleep? You still look tired.” His brow turns into a scowl, so I kiss it away.
“I’m fine. Bad dreams. They’ll pass.” My lie sounds believable, and I climb out of bed, not ready to face any further questions.
Today is… after.
We never planned this far. We certainly didn’t think we’d be here with no magic.
“Do you think the others will be up?” I go to freshen up.
“Maybe,” he answers. “Only one way to find out.”
“They are your friends. You don’t need to be nervous.”
“I do.” I squeeze his hand. He doesn’t understand. He can’t. But it doesn’t quell the drive to see them all, to try and explain.
He opens the door, and everyone’s already there, just like they were last night.
And as I step in, the room falls into quiet.
“Thank you for coming,” I start, needing to show my gratitude to break the ice.
“And I’m sorry I vanished last night, but…
” It should feel like a victory, but it’s not.
The girl who acted yesterday seems no more than a whisp of a shadow within me now.
“I’m sorry to all of you. I don’t remember all the finer details, but I remember being frightened for you all.
Scared about what I might do.” I drop my head and wring my hands together.
“You don’t owe us an explanation, Ever.”
I look up at Lyle. So many unspoken words hang between us. Questions bubble up from our recent interactions. Saying goodbye. Returning and insisting she come. In the end, they should have stayed—her and Kalan.
He’d be alive now if I hadn’t made her come. Perhaps.
“Is it really true? You… don’t have magic?” Capella asks. She’s sitting on the floor, her back propped up against the chair.
“True.” I drop my eyes again.
“How? I mean, people don’t lose their power. Did something happen?”
I died. Ten had to sacrifice himself for me.
I don’t say the words. We haven’t talked about how much we would share, but I don’t need them to pity or feel sorry for us.
They fought. We all did.
I pull a deep breath in and force a smile. “You’re all safe. That’s what matters.”
“Your brother?” Calix stands up and looks directly at me.
“Is dead,” Ten answers. “He paid his price.”
Calix looks between us both and bows, before I find Kyra’s eyes.
Tears shimmer as she looks at me, and I break from Ten and go to hug her. To hold her and tell her how sorry I am for her pain. She returns my embrace, more vigorously, more earnestly than I’d have thought possible.
A scuffle at the door precedes it opening. “Pardon the interruption. The Maker has sent word for you, Miss Hart. She would like you to join her in the Great Hall.”
Just her name seems to turn the tide of my mood, throwing kindling to the burning embers of my anger. She wouldn’t act yesterday. It was as if she were giving up, content to fold everyone back into their old lives.
“Now?” Ten asks.
“Yes, Master Ciro.”
“I’ll take you.” Ten looks at me. “We’ll go together.”
I push open the imposing doors, unalarmed if I insult with my entrance this time. Ten waits outside, along with several Warrior officers. They scurry like ants around the halls of the Chamber residence.
The Maker waits in the same place as before, and this time, the tea service is already out, the familiar blue cup already steaming with herbs and spices. I take a seat and push my braided hair over my shoulder.
“Well done, Child.”
“Don’t call me that. And you can speak freely unless you don’t want anyone else to hear us?” I shoot a look at her two companions, who stand to the side of her.
“Ever.” She nods at me, maybe a little deeper than she would have before.
“I don’t believe in coincidences. Not after everything that has happened.” I’m not ready to talk about why she called me here, so pull the unfinished conversation from our last teatime to distract me.
“It is not a coincidence that you have a matching cup. All Fifths do. A gift, if you will, for everyone who has been blessed with that magic. You are, in a way, the one who has the closest gifts to my own, so I bestow a small indulgence.”
“But how did it come to me? I had it before I was a Fifth. Is it mine, or another hand-me-down from my mother?” Anger, an emotion that’s too familiar to me now, fizzes under my skin as I rub the ring on my finger.
My hand reaches out to take the teacup. “The matching one is in my room, the one that I came with, and I don’t believe you have given me anything of use since I arrived. ”
She tilts her head at my snipe.
“You have done so much in your short time with us, Ever. I wouldn’t want us to leave on bad terms.”
“I believe that choice is in your hands,” I shoot back. “Did you change your mind?”
“It is not my place. It never has been.”
“Well, maybe it’s time for that to change. Something has to,” I push her again, my frustration winning out.
“That is up to the Orders—”
“It shouldn’t be!” I snap. “Their power is what—”
“Be careful, Child. Remember, in life, there are people who are strong of mind, of heart. It comes in my guises, and not just in the power of their magic.”
“All the more reason why an individual should be measured by more than just their magic or what they accomplish in the trials.”
“And they are,” she answers, but she’s certainly blind if that’s her belief.
“No. If that were the case, there would be no uprising. No challenge.” I stand, pacing behind the wooden chairs laid out for us.
She was just as stubborn in the courtyard yesterday.
“You should rule. The Orders, fine, keep them, but things need to change. For Kirrasia to come together, there has to be a change. Taking Kamari and Rowan to prison isn’t enough.
Kirrasia will tear itself apart from within. ”
I sit back down and take a sip of the fragrant tea, letting the heat calm my temper.
“Why was Kamari wrapped up in all of this? Why did she help the Usher? Why did he need the books?” I let my questions get the better of me.
“Why does anyone need books?” She tilts her head again.
“To learn?” I guess.
“If the knowledge of what happened before was easily found, then what use would all of the effort to conceal the truth have been for?”
“Seriously?”
“You found that yourself, did you not? You felt like the information you were looking for was being kept from you. It was. Just not because of the reasons you thought.” She delivers the blow as if it should have been clear for everyone to see.
“Why?”
“Why what?” She looks upon me with her scarred eyes, seeing more than others with their sight intact might.
“Why didn’t you intervene?” Maybe I should rethink my role for her. Maybe she isn’t the one to help Kirrasia out of this if she could be so complicit in these actions.
“That has never been our place. The Orders rule. Aslendrix has always bestowed that. Where she places her magic isn’t our concern, as long as there are always peace and balance in the world.”
“There is certainly not either at the moment, and you could have stopped it.”
“It was Kamari’s decision. Long before you came back here. Many people have taken it upon themselves to plunder certain evidence or texts over the years. The trials of your parents, their training, and what magics they created with their fellow trainees.”
Something alights in my chest at her words. I could learn about them, learn about their magic, but as quickly as my mood soars at the thought, it crashes down again. “It wasn’t given to me because it doesn’t exist anymore. It’s not here.”
“The records of nearly all Fifths have been liberated. The Usher was looking for the right combinations of power, the right people to bring together. He set on this path a long time ago.”
Maybe… maybe this would have all happened anyway, even without my parents starting the battle—a whimsical thought, born out of hope for their memory.
I should know better.
“And Kamari?” My lips roll inward. “How was she first used? She spied, didn’t she? She turned Micah against us, and countless others.”
“It isn’t us versus them. Not to all. I am on no side other than Aslendrix.”
“That’s not good enough.” My teeth grit together.
The Maker turns, her head snapping to one side as she mumbles to herself. “Kamari is a powerful Guard. Her family were always powerful. But remember, some aren’t satisfied with their gifts, no matter how abundant they are.”
“Her family made her do this?” I think of my parents and wonder if they were the catalyst for this, or just the victims of something that had been building for years.
“It is never as simple as that, Ever. But the Usher was her paternal great-grandfather.”