Page 35 of A Rising Hope (The Freckled Fate #3)

35

FINNLEAH

“ B e careful, Liriya,” I murmured to the demon-bird, carrying a small sack in her beak. The bird swung her wings with a few full strokes before disappearing. A loud clap recoiled through the depth of the night. The last remnants of smoke from the campfires laced in the star-covered sky. My hand lingered on my chest, feeling the empty spot where only minutes ago Tuluma’s necklace was nestled close to my heart. I strolled back to the camp, extending my hand to feel the tall grass brush my fingertips, grounding me.

I fought a yawn and ignored the burning in my eyes from the exhaustion. I stopped counting the hours I had been awake. Sleep was no longer relevant. My thoughts knotted and tangled, but somehow remained focused on my clear goals.

Kill the Queen, bring Gideon back.

It seemed so simple and yet so complicated.

His letter was buried deep in my pocket, his words burning a hole in my heart. Anger spiked to new levels each time I lent even a thought to his demand to be happy. To be happy and make due without him?

I shook my head, grinding my teeth. I was going to find him in whatever hell he had descended into, and I would make him answer for that. I’d make him suffer for eternity for that. The rage sparked within me, and I welcomed it.

I had spent the entire afternoon and then far into the night dealing with all the duties of Ruler of Esnox, quickly realizing that perhaps I’d be willing to lock myself in an everlasting prison just as well to avoid these new responsibilities. I wiggled my wrist, recalling the stacks of papers I had to sign. The signature I devised to sign a million decrees was far too long. No wonder Gideon signed with G. B.

I trailed through the camp listening to the chirping of crickets, life feeling so oddly normal. A simple late summer night, no different from the ones I spent stargazing with Tuluma, ones that I’d spent dreaming of my future so many years ago. So similar, and yet there wasn’t a single thing left unchanged about me. The world, perhaps, stayed the same, but I changed.

I told Zora and Orest about everything that had happened. Of everything that I learned about the Queen, Godric, of Gideon. Everything. Except Gideon’s goodbye letter. Except the Soul Eater’s vision. Except my vision of Gideon’s death.

Something in me hesitated to tell them that.

I didn’t find the courage to tell them of my death either. Unsure what to make of it myself, still trying to sort out everything the Soul Eater had told me in my vision. I was myself, and yet something deep within me changed. A new door unlocked, one that I hadn’t known existed before.

After dinner, I visited each soldier. I tended to the wounded and listened to those who needed to be heard.

I picked on the small piece of skin torn on my finger. My new hands were too soft for the callus warrior’s bow I used to light up the first arrow shot, burning the stack of deceased bodies with my Justice Fire. The title of the Empress felt too heavy in that moment, almost suffocating as I uttered a quiet “until we meet again,” sending their souls into the journey beyond.

The stars flickered high above the sky; I paused near an old oak tree. The shadow near it moved as Orest’s tall figure appeared from behind it, so quiet and almost untraceable. His face illuminated by the silver moonlight, making his eyes almost crystal-like.

“Empress,” he bowed lower than before. Both of us had masterfully avoided speaking to each other since Priya revealed the truth about him. “Finn, I—” he swallowed.

“Does Gideon know?” I asked him, taking a second look at him. He was nothing like Priya. Calm, collected, never out of line, loyal and reserved.

“Yes, he was the one who saved me,” Orest replied, and I knew he wasn’t lying.

“Did Zora know before?”

“She knew the day Gideon saved me.”

“Anyone else know?”

“No.” He swallowed hard, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. I knew why he was here. Truth Tellers didn’t have the luxury of living freely. Their secret had a hefty price, one they’d have to pay either with their own life or with the lives of others.

“So it shall stay that way,” I assured him, giving him a curt nod. I had spent weeks questioning my reality with Priya after I had left, of who she was, of how I felt about her being a Truth Teller, of what that meant for me. And I left that fear and the hurt in the past. I kept her secret, and I would keep his.

“Thank you.” His throat bobbed, a certain weight lifted off his shoulders, and he twisted on his heel to walk away, but I called out his name.

“Orest.” I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I wanted to know the answer, but found myself asking anyway. “That day in the Inadios’s mansion, when we first met . . . ” I probed, “Did you influence my thoughts?”

Orest gave me a half smile over his shoulder. “No.” He took a weighted pause. “But I do not need to read someone’s thoughts to know their intentions.” I felt the comforting touch of his powers a second later, similar to that comforting and trusting feeling I sensed that day in Inadios’s mansion. My eyes widened with a realization, he gave me a solemn half smile. “My Truth Telling skills extend to emotions. It’s much less noticeable than mental jumps. People can reason and hide their thoughts but rarely their feelings. When my Master made me, he’d always said that my feelings were my downfall. Little did he know they were his.”

“Zora?” I asked.

“No. Never.” He looked up at the sky, at the stars, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper. “Though you must admit, it’s rather ironic. The guy that can influence anyone’s feelings cannot make the only person he loves love him back.” He let out a saddened sigh.

“Why her?” I found myself asking, relieved to hear his immediate no to my previous question.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He raised his brow. “She is the brightest light in the darkest of worlds.” He glanced towards the quieted camp ahead. “I remember when I first saw her, and I thought to myself she was the most beautiful person I had ever laid eyes on. It was true then and it’s even more true now. As a Truth Teller, you see the world’s darkest desires, you see their inner thoughts hidden away from everyone, and they corrupt you. They destroy your soul bit by bit until you lose yourself completely. Many think that making a Truth Teller is cruel, but no physical pain, no torture, can measure up to the complete hopelessness that suffocates you after. You want to die not because of pain, but because there is nothing good worth living for.”

He paused for a beat before continuing. “Zora was the first and only person that made me want to live. Call it love, call it salvation, call it fate. But she is my god, and I will spend my life worshiping her.”

The gust of night-wind carried his confession into the dark, leaving us to stand alone in silence.

“Take good care of the both of you,” I whispered my goodbye after a while, before turning to walk away from him. But this time it was he who called out my name.

“Finn?”

“Yes?”

“Your assassin friend.” Priya was hardly a friend, but in a way, she was family, but I didn’t interrupt him. “Have you ever questioned what she was doing that deep in the woods by the river when she found you?”

“No,” I answered, unsure. I had always assumed she was there for one of her numerous kills. “Why?”

“Because I think she found you when she needed you most.” His words hit me like a pile of bricks. What he was implying wedged deep in my heart.

“Do you think we will all die?” I found myself asking.

Orest gently scoffed, his lips stretching into a sad smile.

“We all die, Finn. Some are just meant to pave the way.”

“Stay alive, Orest.” My lips matched his quiet, sorrowful smile, both of us precisely aware of how grim the future was.

“Goodbye, Finn.”

“Goodbye, Orest.”