Page 13

Bria

W hen I finally wake, it’s dark outside the window.

Only slivers of tangerine and salmon are left above the horizon, quickly bleeding to black.

Ash is reclined next to me, feet tucked underneath her body, her orange-red hair tied back in a messy bun to keep it out of her face.

My feet are pulled across her lap, resting in a cocoon of the soft fabric.

She notices my stirring and sets down the book she’s reading on the old side table, chips of paint scattering from the edges of the wood.

Her emerald eyes gleam, only made brighter by the deep pine green of her dress.

White lace peeks from the bodice, a transition of texture from the luxurious velvet.

This dress is my favorite because of the way it brings out her eyes and contrasts so nicely with the fire of her hair.

I’ve never questioned why Ash still wears her dresses.

It just makes sense for her, even if I’m always dressed more casual in leggings and tunics.

Everyone in the camp is expected to learn how to wield weaponry, though some more adeptly than others.

Working in the kitchen has meant Ash needed only occasional training, so she can wear them most of the time.

She prefers to and I understand why. It reminds her of home, of the life we lived before coming to this camp.

I long to wear a beautiful dress again, to feel the fabric trailing around my ankles.

But I’ve become accustomed to the more practical clothing of the rebels over the years.

Plus, a dress would make my cache of weapons a lot less accessible.

“How long was I asleep for?” I question, groggily rubbing my eyes.

“About three hours or so now,” Ash replies, rubbing my feet through the rough woolen socks. “How are you feeling?”

“Still exhausted.”

I pull my arms from beneath the blanket and stretch them above my head, pain shooting through my muscles from the motion. I grimace and shake out my arms. “Have you been here the whole time?”

Ash scoffs. “No. I would have stayed with you, but if I missed dinner preparation the others would have known something was going on,” she explains.

“I made sure you were comfortable, and I slipped out for about an hour to go to the kitchen. Madalena is doing my cleanup, so I’ll be forced to take over her breakfast prep in the morning thanks to you.

” She lets out a small laugh and squeezes my feet as she speaks.

“Thank you,” I manage as I drag myself to a seated position beside her, crossing my legs comfortably underneath me, though I feel my knees protest and recall their collision with the frozen earth earlier today.

“I’ve never...” Ash chews on her lip but keeps her focus on me. “I’ve never seen you like that, even in the beginning when you first started using your gifts. You were so drained,” she finishes hurriedly, as if she’s forcing the rest of the words out on this one breath.

I have never known Ash to be timid or hide her true feelings about anything. So, for her to hesitate... I know she thinks this is serious. Concern plays across her face.

“I’ll be alright,” I assure her. “It’s just going to take time for my body to adjust. I’m using a lot of energy right now.

” My body will become accustomed to the new power, even if right now my muscles ache as if I’ve been to battle, and I feel like I’ve been awake for a week straight.

I’ve been down this road before, though it’s been a few years.

But right now, I just need to make sure Ash doesn’t worry too much.

She doesn’t need to take on my problems as her own.

Everyone here has enough on their plates.

Ash pulls the blanket further over us, covering our laps before she speaks again. “Are you going to tell me why?” she questions, smoothing a hand over the soft blanket. Her deep emerald gaze is piercing and there’s no escaping it. Even if I tried, she would push.

I drag a hand down my face and pinch the space between my eyes.

It isn’t exactly something I want to share yet, but I tell Ash everything.

There are no secrets between us now and there never were, even when we were children.

Ash’s parents were employed by my father’s estate and her mother worked in the kitchen, often taking Ash with her to learn.

We were raised side by side in the same home, nearly inseparable.

I look up at my friend, trying to read her face as I delve into the story of my newfound gift.

“I’m working on the art of bones,” I start, watching as Ash’s auburn brows furrow.

“Raising the dead,” I clarify, and her eyes widen.

A sea of emerald stares back at me as I continue to tell her all about what I’ve learned with Cato over the last two days.

She listens, apparently mesmerized by the story.

That’s something I love about Ash: she always wants to hear about magic.

She isn’t scared by it or put off at all, but intrigued.

She makes me feel less like a monster and more like a wonder.

“It takes a great deal of energy to do it, and I have to pull from myself, from my energy stores,” I finish, waiting patiently for her to take in all the information I just threw her way.

Ash blows out a loud breath from her lips and sits back, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well then,” she says, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth and crinkling her eyes.

“Bria Saldhene, the Mistress of Nightmares. It has a nice ring to it, though a bit macabre for my taste.” She barely gets the words out before breaking into a fit of laughter.

“Oh shut it.” I shove her arm gently but am unable to control the girlish giggle that escapes my lips. It may be a ghastly power, but it’s mine.

“It is shocking but also a bit marvelous when you think about it. I mean, it’s rare, you said—right?” she questions.

Thinking back to the dusty book Cato gave me, I let it really sink in. “Yes, very rare. The text from Cato said only Lilith and one of her descendants had the power to do it.”

Ash nods, understanding what that means. Understanding how powerful that makes me now.

“How long do they last? The living dead?”

“Right now? Only a few seconds, but as I build up my energy stores, I should be able to make them last longer. And if I pull energy from”—I pause, scrunching my nose at the thought—“other sources, Cato thinks it will make it easier on me.”

Ashbel knows all about the training I received from Cato on pulling energy and how I feel about it. I loathe the idea of taking anything from another person to aid my abilities. And it isn’t as if we have a whole host of people with gifts here at the camp. It’s only Cato and me.

“Bria. You could turn the tide of a battle.” Her words are hushed as she thinks of the future.

We haven’t spoken of Nimai’s impending birthday and what it means for me, but her thoughts echo the ones flitting around my mind—what her birthday means for the prophecy, what my gifts mean for it.

If Nimai comes into power as everyone is expecting, we will soon be readying for the battle Ash speaks of.

And that is a terrifying prospect to have hovering over you.

I distract myself by playing with the loose threads along the edge of the blanket.

I twirl one between my fingers. My mind wanders to Evander—his hands in my hair, twirling and tugging on the strands, the faint brush of his fingers against my neck, the heat of his breath on my skin.

My stomach tightens and I can feel the heat rising up my neck and into my cheeks.

“Let’s not think about it now,” I suggest and gesture to the unmade bed, a tangled mess of stark white sheets against a violet bedspread, pillows askew.

I turn raised brows toward Ash and state playfully, “I would much rather hear about your night.”

Ash picks at her cuticles, a terrible habit she’s developed over the years, especially when she’s thinking or uncomfortable. She rips a small sliver of skin off with her teeth. Perfectly straight squares of ivory peek out as the rose of her lips widens to a wicked grin.

“Oh, it was fine.” Her teeth are still showing despite the noncommittal response, hand waving the comment away as you would a nasty nuisance of a fly in the summer heat.

But I know better than to accept her feigned disinterest in the topic. “Liar,” I chide, my spirited tone tinged with truth.

Ash just leans further back, kicking her legs up and laying them across me, pushing her back to stretch across the arm of the sofa.

“Cade was...insatiable,” she responds, her grin widening again. “He genuinely might have the deftest tongue of any man I’ve ever met.” She closes her eyes, clearly reveling in the memory of the night before.

I can’t help it when my mouth drops open at the comment. Not from the brash nature of what she said, but considering the fact that she had been with a fair share of men, this was truly a compliment.

“So, do you plan to see him again? Maybe tonight, even?” Ash sits up with the question, bringing herself back to the present and looking at me.

“Perhaps,” she replies, brushing a finger across her lips. “Though maybe you should give him a try.” The response comes with puckered lips and a raised brow.

I choke out a laugh. “You’re joking.”

“Why not? You haven’t let yourself enjoy anyone the entire time you’ve been here. It’s been almost five years, Bria. Gods, you’re going to dry up down there if you go any longer,” she teases, waving at my lower half. “Good thing you can reanimate the dead because you may need to.”

The raucous laughter that erupts from us both has my sides aching. She absolutely knows how to make me relax and laugh when I need it.