“Or scare the palace half to death.”
He leans over me, glancing through the closed door. “The drill was likely good for them. I’m sure Taran will be grateful for the test of our defenses.”
“If he can ever look us in the eye again.”
Chapter Nineteen
I’m standing on the edge of a cliff.
The air is heavy and damp. Wind gusts around me strangely, sweeping up the fabric of my white robe until I’m surrounded by soft silk, a vortex of white. I fight with it, smoothing it down, but it picks up again and again as I look out over the edge.
Golden grain stretches as far as the eye can see. The wind sweeps over it and through it, cutting arcs and swirls into its neat rows, leaving intricate patterns in its wake.
A low rumble shakes the ground at my feet.
I step away from the edge, following a narrow path through high grass up a hillside. At the top sits a temple, its shining white stone stark against the dark clouds that loom behind it.
There’s something wrong with this place.
The wind is brutal the nearer I get to the temple. I’m holding my robes, looping as much of the fabric as I can beneath my arms and between my legs, but they won’t stay, no matter how much I fight them.
A raindrop hits the back of my hand. And then another.
I reach a staircase cut from grey stone, the center dipping, worn smooth by thousands of feet. I stumble on the uneven steps, my hair whipping my arms like a lash, and yet I know I must climb.
At the top, the air is still.
The temple has no door. I step through the entrance, the shadow of its archway feeling strangely cleansing, like walking through a waterfall. The vaulted room is empty, nothing but white stone columns and grey stone floor. No pews, no candles, no glass in the windows.
Lightning flashes somewhere outside, the windows on the left filling with light strangely, the flicker lingering a moment too long.
The ground rumbles once more.
When lightning strikes again, this time closer to the back of the temple, I see that I was wrong. There is something in this room, something concealed in shadow at the back where the altar should be.
I can’t see it. I haven’t known true darkness like this since I was a child.
It frightens me.
But I know where I must go, and my feet carry me there. My steps echo, the sound hollow, muffled. The air is stale and old, tinged with a faint scent of rot.
And yet the darkness calls.
I want to turn and run, but my body disagrees. It moves towards the shadow, drawn like a moth to flame: slowly, inevitably, fatefully spiraling towards death.
The darkness is near. I recoil from it, my pulse climbing, sweat dripping down my neck. I don’t want to know what’s hidden here. I don’t want to see it.
And yet I can’t turn away. My hand raises of its own accord. Trembling, I reach into the shadow—
And touch Ronan’s shoulder. My perspective lurches strangely as I realize I’m not on my feet. I’m lying down in Ronan’s bed, morning sunlight streaming through the window.
When I open my eyes, they meet Ronan’s. He’s lying beside me still in his robe with his head on his pillow. “Hello,” he says softly as I blink the sleep from my eyes. He reaches over and brushes the hair out of my face, and then he gently caresses my cheek.
“Were you watching me sleep?” I ask.
“Yes.” His eyes are the color of honey in the morning light, soft and deep. “I had trouble sleeping.”
My magic is weak after last night’s exertion, but even so, I can feel the grip his fear has on him.
