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“Get close enough to the healer Yanev to read his thoughts so you can use the Hearkens’ gift and inability to lie to publicly denouncehislies regarding your heritage,” Dima interrupted, his words starting to slur together. “Yes, I got that when you walked in.”
Fuck, that was unnerving.
“There’s-”
“Horses at the base of the mountain to take us all back to Stavroyarsk.”
“Do you-”
“Want to know what I’ll be offered in turn? I know,” he mumbled quietly, and I was barely able to hear him now. His eyes were hazy and unfocused. “I’ll take it.”
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, my concern only heightening when the man let me finish my question.
He gave a lopsided smile, green mush staining his teeth, and I swore. I’d never seen it in person before – although Mila had once used it on me in its concentrated form – but the leaves he’d been chomping down on could only be one thing.Molchaniye.
Ren met my gaze and rolled his eyes.
“Let’s get going,” I growled. I didnotneed the Hearken losing consciousness from the narcotic before we reached the base of the mountain.
Dima uncurled himself from the floor, swaying dizzily as he stood, and when I snatched his arm to keep him balanced he waved an imperious hand at Ren. “Bring the box,” he ordered, themolchaniyeclearly already addling his mind as well as his ability to speak coherently if he believed, having the benefit of reading the prince’s own thoughts, that he would obey.
Ren opened the lid of the small wooden box on the shelf being gestured to, peering in with curious eyes and then recoiling in disgust.
“We are not,” he hissed, “fuelling your fucking drug habit!”
“Bring it,” I said wearily.
“I would have thought you would have had some disapproving, judgmental words to say on the matter, Nat.”
“Would you like to carry him andI’llhandle the box?” I asked snidely, and my prince immediately shook his head, snapping the lid closed and swiping the box ofmolchaniyeoff the shelf. He clutched it in his arms, pretending to stagger under an enormous weight, and I glared at him as I heaved and dragged an almost limp Dima to the door.
But even Ren’s self-centred nature apparently couldn’t stand to watch us both struggle through the narrow doorway, me almost bent double under the older man’s weight, and he tucked the box under one arm so he could help.
Bitingly cold air abused my face as soon as we left the protection of the cabin, the wind howling past my ears in sharp protest. The visibility had dropped to almost nothing, and any view that may have existed was firmly blanketed in white.
“I can’t condemn...him for it when...it’s us...who drove him to it,” I panted, as we each wrapped one of Dima’s wiry arms over our shoulders and began to pick our way down the ice-ladened mountain. I supposed I should be thankful that the man hadn’t chosen to live at the very top, but the journey upwards had been horrible enough; few proper paths and treacherously loose snow had made it an arduous trek.
“What...do you mean?”
“He lives alone for a reason, Ren. He wanted to...get away from our thoughts.”
My Sight wasn’t as convenient as the gifts of the Voice, Scent, and Touch, which could be used at will, but at least seers weren’t plagued by their magic all the time.
To never be able to turn it off like Dima had suggested...it wasn’t that much of a surprise that one would turn to mind-numbing and dangerous drugs to ease its effects. Perhaps the desperate, reckless need to avoid the unrelenting bombardment of other people’s thoughts was another reason why none of the Hearken remained.
The man between us grunted, and I instantly regretted the direction of my thoughts.
This was...both odd and terrifying. Having someone know exactly what you were thinking, as soon as you thought it?
No filters, no delay, no deception?
Being exposed to everyone’s genuine, raw selves with all their flaws: the shameful instincts that would normally be smothered, the spiteful thoughts that weren’t otherwise spoken, the dark desires that should remain unacted upon? How could someonelivelike that?
Another grunt, and I bit my lip, sending a silent apology to Dima that was probably unnecessary. He would have felt my guilt and remorse in my initial mental flinch, and perhaps now I understood what he’d meant about not shouting at him. Were targeted, focused thoughts more painful than general musings?
“You think too much,” the Hearken complained, and even though his words had been quiet and barely enunciated, Ren gave a hearty agreement that was quickly snatched away by the wind. I could barely see beyond him now, the world around us having turned completely white. All we could do was put one foot in front of the other and follow any path that looked like it would take us downwards.
“How far do you think we’re-”
