Magic. A whole world I didn’t know about. And parents who died fighting in a war against the Orders and who wished to pull them down.
Stupid, Ever.
The realisation clangs through my mind, waking me up with a bang.
My parents died because they were seen as a threat.
They were protecting me.
That’s the reason behind the lies.
Sworn to be kept safe. Kept away. Kept hidden.
For my protection.
That’s what Kalan’s been trying to say to me all this time.
I suck in a deep breath and fight the sting of tears in my eyes at the knowledge that now seems so clear. I’ve been buried in the hurt and pain that information was kept from me, with no focus on thewhy.
I turn to look at Ten and offer him a soft smile.
And then I rush forward to Kalan and throw my arms up and around his shoulders. “Thank you,” I whisper. His body is as rigid as the trees we stand under, but he soon softens at my touch.
He doesn’t return the hug in such an affectionate way, but I take the sling of his arm around my back as a win.
“Okay, want to fill me in?” Ten asks.
thirty-one
. . .
Ever
We didn’t go back to sleep.
Ten listened as Kalan explained his theory about Fenix still being alive and that he’d know if he were dead. I watched as Ten took it in, and the denial and then disbelief hit him. Then the devastation that Crimson died for nothing. It cracked over him, hardening his armour and adding another layer to the new shield he had in place. The one that I helped to forge with every parry and thrust of my sword, which I swung in defence of him under Fenix’s intent.
We packed up what little we had, mounted our horses, and let Kalan lead us onward.
The light of the morning sunrise did nothing to dispel the cool chill, but I bore it. As we plodded on, it was clear we were still in our own heads after Kalan’s words, the tension between us almost a physical cloud of questions.
I passed the time by poring over the memory I was shown of Crimson taking the blade to Fenix, stabbing him in his chest. Shestabbed him through the chest—in his heart. How could anyone survive that?
The question lingered, refusing to be forgotten.
But it was also my own magic, my own power that I scrutinised. What had I done when I unleashed that power?
Whatever power I burnt through or took from the rest of the men, it didn’t take down Fenix. He was still strong enough to fight Crimson. And the Usher was the only explanation of how he might have survived.
Two chances. Two fails.
My eyes slide to Ten, checking on him, my heart hoping he’ll be watching me, and we could be back in the Great Hall, innocent to the facts of the world, before my Transference and before Nehandun. But I have no power over any of that, and each time I look at him, I have to swim through the memories and the mist of sorrow shrouding my vision, taking me straight back to that training ring. I will it to burn up under the intensity of our connection, but he doesn’t look back at me.
“Ten?”I shout his name inside my head, but he doesn’t hear. It just rings around in my skull like a lonely echo. I miss our connection. I miss being able to hear him and for him to know what I’m feeling, and I never thought I’d say that, because with all the good between us comes the inevitable: the pain.
Ten’s pain.
And a possible glimpse at a future yet to unfold.
