Page 70 of A Simple Truth (the Freckled Fate #2)

69

FINNLEAH

I opened my eyes to the canvas ceiling of the large tent, immediately feeling a light sense of nausea. My head throbbed with a dull ache as hazy memories fell into place. I tried to sit up, immediately wincing at the sharp pain in my side.

“I wouldn’t recommend doing that,” Gideon’s ice-cold voice sounded. I darted my eyes to him. He was dressed in full armor, sitting in a chair across from me, resting his elbows on his knees. “You were badly wounded in the Rock Quarries,” he answered my concerned look.

Wounded? My forehead wrinkled and panic flashed across my eyes.

“Viyak?” I asked, my already-queasy stomach turning into knots.

“Safe and sound. The De Villiars are rehabilitating all the human refugees.” Gideon kept his eyes on his hand as he moved his fingers.

“Gideon…” I started. My mouth felt so dry, my tongue like sandpaper against my chapped lips.

“What did you see?” he interrupted, still unwilling to meet my eyes, and deep hurt laced my heart, more painful than my aching wound. “You had a dream. What did you see?” he repeated, cold and withdrawn.

“I...” I shook my head, muddled. “I don’t remember.” I tried to sift through the memories, attempting to recall. “There was smoke and black walls and people screaming…” I spat out, jumbled. Did I talk in my sleep again? “I must have had a nightmare after the Rock Quarries. I get those sometimes...” I answered.

“You get those ‘ sometimes’… ” He harshly scoffed, his face nothing but the heartless glamor. My eyes narrowed on his hand, catching a glimpse of something moving around his fingers. “Does it still hurt when you summon raw fire?” he asked and I nodded, but when he didn’t look at me, I said,

“Yes, a bit, but I’ve gotten used to the initial sting.”

“I have been truly blind, haven’t I?” He let out a sharp, cold chuckle, the sound prickling my skin like ice. “So focused on everything I wished to see, that I missed what’s been under my nose all along… My father would have been so proud that I followed in his footsteps after all. Foolish and ignorant,” Gideon bitterly snarled.

“Gideon…” I mumbled, consternation lacing my blood at his tone. His collected look of callous calmness, of the harsh, brutal force of the Destroyer General, now felt like acid on my open wound.

“You wince each time you summon your fire, you heal slower, your powers never came forward as they should’ve in your childhood, Kahors react to your blood…Gods, I am such a fucking idiot…” he murmured, more to himself than to me, pinching the bridge of his nose.

My hazy mind was frantically attempting to understand what he was trying to say, spiraling deeper into anxious confusion. “I don’t understand,” I finally said. I wasn’t sure if it was the nausea or the headache, but my thoughts were incoherent tangled pieces.

“You were bleeding a lot last night,” Gideon said. “You’ll live…though I’m becoming more aware that perhaps you hate that notion.”

“I didn’t know half the damn Royal army was going to be there,” I contended, rubbing my temples. But he still ignored me.

“Did you know that my mother, my birth mother, was a witch?” he asked, but before I could answer, he continued, “A Seer and a Healer mix. Witches usually inherit bits and pieces from both sides, but they are not strong enough to be considered an actual Seer nor a Healer. They can see a baby’s gender yet cannot see what has been lost; can tell you what disease hurts you, yet cannot heal you. Most of them grow up being assistants to the Seers or Healers. Yet, my mother was always so adamant that she could have actual visions, that she was a true Seer. But nobody believed her, and she was soon kicked out of her apprenticeship, labeled as unruly. She found her own way through life after that, becoming a servant to the Emperor and his wife.

“All my mother ever wanted was for someone to believe that she had visions, that she was a Seer. But nobody ever did, no matter how hard she tried. So, she set out to prove it to the world through me. And so the cursed child was born .” He rehearsed the last line as if it were a verse out of a poem. He paused, standing up. “Turns out, she was right after all, she really did have the Seers gift of visions…but forgive me, for I derail from my point. You know what people called her visions, Finnleah?” he asked me as our eyes locked in at last. “ Dreams .”

“Dreams?” My brows furrowed in more confusion, but I let him speak.

“They never believed her because her blood had never turned blue.” He took a step closer, extending his palm wide as my eyes saw a little droplet of dark blue liquid. “But yours does, Finnleah,” he finally uttered, his eyes piercing right through me.

I watched the little droplet of dark blue float in the air, just an inch above his hand.

“I’m sorry, but I am not a Seer, Gideon.” I shook my head, denying. “I’d know if my blood was blue. I’ve bled plenty of times in my life and believe me, I bleed red,” I objected. He raised his brow, still not believing me. “Red, Gideon, not blue.” I rolled my eyes. “Look,” I said as I pulled the blankets off, showing the tiny bit of bright red blood soaking through the fresh bandages. “I am a Destroyer, not a Seer,” I argued, and I could see a glimpse of hurt flash through his eyes at my words.

“You might not bleed blue now , but you do when you have a vision, or how you like to call them: dreams . I was here last night. I changed the bandages, and this drop of blue blood is your Seer’s blood, Finnleah.”

“But how is that possible? You can’t be a Destroyer and a Magic Wielder.” I rubbed my face; whatever energy I had was quickly fading. “It’s incompatible,” I protested.

“True, and yet there was one before,” he opposed.

“Who?” I asked, the muscle in my jaw tensed.

“The Lady Dynaya. She wielded all of the gifts at once. Magic was mixed all together before she gave it to her kids.”

“You can’t be serious, right now,” I scoffed but he was indeed serious. “The magic mixed because she was a damn goddess, Gideon. An actual goddess .” I tried to reason with him.

“And who says you aren’t?” he asked, and I stared at him then, exasperated, looking for any sign of that playful smirk or that dancing fire in his eyes to indicate that he was exaggerating, joking, but only grave seriousness laced his darkened eyes.

He actually, truly believed it.

This was insanity.

“Mighty hell, Gideon, I am not a fucking goddess, okay?” My voice didn’t hide my frustration. I winced, trying to adjust in my bed, unable to take a full breath as my side ached even at the slightest movement.

“Goddess or not, you are a Seer.” He moved his finger and the dark blue drop of my blood slithered up his sleeve. “I’ve reassigned you to Xentar. As the only Seer we have, you’ll be under his jurisdiction. He will coach you in your newly discovered gift,” Gideon decreed, his voice slicing like a knife against my flesh.

“You can’t do that.” I shook my head in protest, sitting up, ignoring the piercing pain at my side.

“Actually, I can, and I already did.” He turned his eyes away from me, unwilling to meet my stared full of desperation and anger. “I am assembling the troops and leaving for the War Council today, but I hope you find yourself fit amidst the Magic Wielders. Perhaps they’ll be better company to you then we ever were.” But before I could say another word, he stormed off outside, his black cape wavering with each step, marking his departure.

My body plummeted to the pillow, painfully ripping a few of the stitches out with the motion. But I didn’t care. I welcomed the pain as I laid on his bed, staring into the nothingness.

I should be shocked by the truth he’d revealed.

A Seer…My mind tried to connect all the dots.

Tell me of your dreams, Finnleah. Tuluma’s favorite question for me. One she’d asked me every day since I could remember.

She knew. I clenched my jaw tighter as a new wave of hurt and fury sizzled within me.

She knew.

The elven princess that was my maid knew, and left me in the dark. A bitter, frantic sigh escaped my lips as I pulled the blankets closer.

I’d been betrayed once again.

What a fucking joke my life had become. Or perhaps, it had always been like that and I was just now catching up to it.

“Finnleah the Seer … Such utter bullshit!” I heatedly murmured to myself, not holding back the mockery. “Finnleah, a goddess of misery and cluelessness,” I angrily mumbled, as panicked frustration mixed with rage choked me until a single streak of silver ran down my cheek.

But I didn’t want to cry.

I was mad. I was frustrated. I was pissed off.

I should yell and kick and shout.

And yet, I felt so alone that even my righteous protector, anger, couldn’t save me now. There were no loud sobs or terrible bawling as I laid there, still. Only tiny drops of my overwhelming emotions, bottled up in quiet tears rolling down my face, soaking my pillow— his pillow.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, I’ll be strong. Tomorrow, I’ll stand with my chin up. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up and take on this new reality, and I’ll train, and I'll learn, and I’ll figure things out.

But today?

Today, I’ll cry in silence.

And I’ll cry alone.