Page 75 of A Touch of Stars and Stones (Kirrian #1)

forty-three

. . .

Ever

R age, hotter than I’ve ever felt, burns inside of me, tearing away any semblance of control as I watch the Warriors line up and surround Ten.

No. I won’t let them do this.

“Calix!” I shout, and he breaks through towards me. “We need to get to him.” He nods, catching up with my line of thought. Ravi might help, but it’s not enough.

Calix clears a path, barging and shoving Warriors, and I realise what he’s going to have to do.

“Ever!” But I’m right there.

Suddenly, the power at my centre is wild and unruly, desperate to break free. The strength of Calix is at my fingertips, with nothing but our proximity. I reach for his hand, and he clasps it.

The surge is instant, but as I reach for Ten, stretching out my arm to grab him, the Warriors attack.

“No!” Calix tugs hard, pulling me back as a blade slices between my outstretched arm and Ten, missing me by an inch. My arm quivers as I realise how close that was.

“Ever!” Ten hollers and thrashes against the Warriors closing in. He throws a punch, then another, and Calix is heading right for him. But men flood around us, swarming in to create a physical barrier between me and Ten.

“Ravi, help us!” I shout, looking around as mayhem descends. But he’s gone, nowhere in sight.

“What have you learned, Ever Hart?” The Maker’s voice sounds inside my mind, and I want to scratch out the sound.

“Not enough,” I seethe.

“Show them. Show me.”

“How?” I plead, and Calix looks at me, his eyes drawn and his face tight.

“You are a Fifth. You do not need touch to control your power. Don’t you feel it? Inside of you? That growing swell?”

I listen to her voice and focus on exactly what she says. It’s there. It’s been there for a while, and every lesson in class has fed it, like the magic I access every time I touch someone is being hoarded, my own power syphoning a fraction off, drop by drop.

How to use it is still an elusive answer, even with the training.

But Ten doesn’t have time for that. He needs me, and he doesn’t deserve this.

I glance up to where his father is watching the mayhem.

He’s the one in the wrong. He’s the one who banished Ten, and he’s the one who can stop this.

I let my eyes drift closed, and I picture the flow of energy like a river, and I send it out, forcing it and coercing it like a living, breathing thing right at Orion Ciro.

His eyes shoot to me as soon as the first cold coil of my power reaches him, but I won’t be intimidated. I stood up to him when I had no idea that I even had magic. I’ll not shy away from him now.

That water chills, sharpening like a blade and piercing the barrier Orion holds around his mind, and I make sure that the only thing, the only thought, in mine is that Ten is innocent and he’s made a mistake.

It burrows in, sweeping through the maze of his mind, cleansing any doubt of Ten’s innocence, and I watch as his shoulders drop and his eyes dart to his son, who’s now surrounded and caged by bodies.

He shakes his head when he takes a step forward, and I can see he’s fighting me, mentally pushing and shoving me out. I feel him, a pressure or force against my own.

And then a shift—a snap—and I’m no longer looking at Orion Ciro. I’m no longer standing in front of The Tower, but I still recognise where I am.

There’s been a fight, and I can see hundreds of people with blades and armour and blood.

Stars above, so much blood. The area around the gate to The Court is piled with bodies, and the ground is stained scarlet.

Flames lick the side walls, burning the camps and homes of those who live outside the walls.

Smoke shrouds the area, drifting over and into the forest beyond.

A cold wind like I’ve never felt in Kirrasia, adds to the uncomfortable feeling swamping me.

When did this happen? Is this what’s going to happen? A possible future, like on the battlefield with Ascella?

The smell of copper stuns me, the tang unmistakable, and I lose focus, suddenly pulled further into the vision, deeper until I’m stumbling through the bodies around me.

I’m not just looking anymore—I’m here. There are voices.

Screams and groans rise around me as I tread careful steps through the aftermath.

This isn’t just in Orion’s head. I’m living this.

Just like the snow.

Just like my death.

The sound of a horse galloping turns my attention, and I look up to see a shadow through the smoke. As it draws near, a familiar man is riding towards me.

Kalan? Hope rises in my chest, and an ache of longing pulses with the beat of my heart.

He can help me. But what’s he doing here?

On a horse. Heading right for me. I fling my arms up in the air, hoping he’ll stop, but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t even notice me as he rides right on past and makes it to the bridge unopposed, and then he’s gone.

But I’m still here amongst the carnage and devastation of whatever occurred.

This isn’t now. It can’t be now. Kalan looked… younger, maybe. So, that would make this a memory—Orion’s memory and not a possible future.

I close my eyes and reach for the well of power in my chest. I don’t want to be here, but not understanding how I came to be here is infuriating, and the panic begins to shake the bedrock holding the well of power at my core.

Calm—I need to be calm. Think clearly. This isn’t real. I’m not in danger. The heels of my hands press against my forehead as I will myself back to the present and out of Orion’s head.

The Court hasn’t been attacked in recent history, right? We’d have studied that in class rather than reading up on strategy, diplomacy, powers, and Triunes.

Aten told me his father was hiding something, and he thought it had to do with my parents. Was this linked? My vision turns fuzzy like I’ve just stood up too quickly, and blood rushes to my head. Pain bites into my knees as I hit the ground, and it takes me a minute to orient myself.

No flames. No blood. I’m back outside The Tower, and Micah’s face is in front of me.

“Get up, Ever. Come on,” he shouts.

My eyes dart to Orion, shouting from his position. Ten’s still surrounded by Warriors, cutting him off from Calix, who’s still trying to reach him. They’re both fighting but getting nowhere. They can’t fight off the whole Warrior Order. And Orion hasn’t rescinded his order.

It didn’t work.

What use am I if I can’t do anything?

The Maker might tell me I can pull power from thin air, but I have no way to control or aim that.

A rush of frustration fans my anger like the flames I just witnessed and pushes me to try a different way.

I grab hold of Micah’s arm, pull all the strength I can from him and plant my hand on the ground.

Vibrations start and then grow, pulsing outward, stronger than I’ve ever felt before. I see a couple of the men surrounding Ten lose their balance. We just need an edge for Calix?—

“Ever, what are you doing?” Micah grits his teeth.

“I have to stop this. Please,” I beg.

“You can’t just take something that isn’t yours.” He rips his arm free, and the tremors stop, but continue to shake inside of me. Adrenaline and fury mix with the slap of guilt at my own actions. “Ever, stop,” Micah repeats.

My hand is still against the ground, but I can’t stop. I stand and flex my fingers, searching for any feeling or spark of power that I can pull and use to fight back.

A Warrior comes towards me and sweeps into an assault.

He’s fast, choosing to fight with his fists rather than steel, but as soon as he makes contact, I focus and leach his power, using his own speed against him to manoeuvre, just like Calix taught me.

But all I do is run right into more trouble and the sharp end of a blade, now resting at my throat.

I still. My heart now joins the blade at my throat as I wait, listening to the pounding of my pulse. The storm in my chest loses some of its bite and calms under the threat to my life.

“That’s enough,” the man commands in a deep growl.

My breathing stutters as I pant, suddenly out of breath, and my limbs begin an uncontrollable shaking that has nothing to do with Micah near me.

My eyes track to Ten, who’s now being led away, his wrists bound.

“Ten!” I shout down our connection, and I watch as he turns, hearing me. “It’s alright. I won’t stop.”

“You’ve got to keep yourself safe, Ever. Above everything, above me, promise me. I love you.”

My heart gives way to the fear of not seeing him again as the knife at my neck digs in, a warm trickle slipping down my throat.

“Take her, too.” It’s not Orion’s voice issuing that command, but Kamari’s. “Guard!”

Before I see them, three Guards surround me. They don’t knock me out this time. They enclose me, and then I’m travelling through air and light with no sense of gravity until I’m in front of the bars of the cell they locked me in previously.

As I catch my breath and regain my balance, something hard and pointy digs into my back, urging me inside, back into the same cell. The blood from the man Ten killed is still on the floor. Nobody’s been in to clean it up.

The door slams closed, the metal clang of the lock slipping into place, and cold dread silences everything.

I’m alone.

Sleep is hard.

It’s the only time I think I’ve thought that because since arriving in Kirrasia, I’ve become acquainted with a tiredness I’d never known back in Estereah.

Where Ten is now banished to.

Maybe this is all going to work out? I close my eyes and imagine my old house, Lyle and Ten waiting for me there. The images flicker behind my eyes, and I hope that this might be a possible future I can will into existence.

Footsteps pull me from my daydream, and I swivel on the bed and plant my feet.

Visitors are a bad thing when there’s no way out of a cell.

Orion Ciro stumbles forward, his cheeks already the ruddy colour he’s shown me glimpses of in the past.