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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I don’t sleep, despite Jaimin’s coaxing. He and Coryn don’t sleep much either—I can hear them talking in the wee hours. After Jaimin set up my tent, Coryn carried her off the road and laid her inside—I didn’t have to let go of her hand even once. They bring me food, but I can’t eat it. Even thinking about it makes me feel ill. Instead, I sit with my sister in the dim light of the lamp, a blanket around my shoulders to ward off the winter night.

Just before dawn, Jaimin comes to check on me.

“Did the acolyte come back?” I ask, not looking away from Tia. My eyes are exhausted, burning, but I barely allow myself to blink.

“Yes. Leicht wouldn’t let him into camp, though, so I set up a tent for him right beside the road.” He told me last night that Leicht has set himself up as guardian of the camp, his body a shield behind us, his tail curled around to make a barrier in front.

“Not Tia’s te?—”

“Not Tia’s tent,” he assures me. “He has mine. But his belongings are pitiful, Talon. We’ll need to get supplies for him—he doesn’t even have a bedroll.”

He can sleep in the mud for all I care.

Jaimin must guess what I’m thinking, because he sighs. “Now’s not the time to talk about this. I’m going to bring you some tea and bread. Please eat.”

I automatically shake my head, my stomach rebelling.

“Just the tea, then,” he persists. “You must be thirsty. A few sips at a time.”

My throat’s still sore, and my mouth is parched. I guess I could manage some tea. “Thank you.”

His hand brushes over my shoulder, a fleeting touch, and I wish he’d stay and let me lean into him.

The weak light of dawn is filtering into the tent when he returns and nudges the tin mug into my free hand. It’s hot, almost painfully so, but I lift it to my cracked lips and sip gratefully. I was thirsty.

“Did you talk to Master Samoine?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

I nod. “He said he’s coming with the riders and not to tell anyone about… not to tell anyone.” I can’t say it out loud. It was bad enough that I had to tell Master.

“Hopefully he can give us some answers. I’m… concerned that the riders will know when they see you.”

“Tell the healer that nobody will know unless I choose to allow them.”

I shudder violently and from the corner of my eye see Jaimin lean forward. “Talon? What?—”

“Leicht—” It sticks in my throat. “Nobody will know.”

He sits back. “That’s good then. Did you also tell your master about the archers?”

That takes me by surprise. “What about them?”

The short, awkward silence almost makes me look away from Tia.

“Talon… they died the same way as that man during the first attack.”

For a moment, the words don’t make sense, then my mind clicks into action, and I realize what he means. The man I killed during the first attack. The one I somehow struck with my magic but who was completely unharmed—merely dead.

And I remember that, as I was running to Tia, my magic did something .

“Just the archers?” I ask, trying to understand. “Why not the bishop?”

Jaimin moves restlessly. “I don’t know. Maybe?—”

“Dragons approaching,” Coryn calls in a low voice. “Not close enough yet for me to count in this light.”

“Three.”

“I’ll meet them,” Jaimin says. “Remember, no matter what, I’m here for you.” He moves toward the tent opening, but I reach out blindly and catch hold of his arm.

“Tia really liked you,” I whisper. I want to say more— stay with me. I need you —want to keep him close, but the words stick in my throat.

“I really liked her too.” He puts his hand over mine and squeezes. “She was a special person.”

I stay in the tent, holding Tia’s hand, my eyes on her face, and listen to the sounds of the dragons landing. The people in the nearby village must be wondering what’s happening. Maybe they’ll even send someone out to see.

There’s a small commotion—someone having hysterics. The acolyte, I’d say. I can’t imagine Coryn, who still wants to pet Leicht, would be upset by the presence of more dragons. And Jaimin is used to them, of course.

Then voices approaching, not loud enough for me to hear what’s being said, but I recognize Master’s tone replying to Jaimin. Someone else speaks, but I don’t know who—a dragon rider, probably.

They stop outside the tent. “Talon?” Master calls softly.

I open my mouth to respond and find myself suddenly choked by tears. Clearing my throat, blinking away the blurriness, I try again. “I’m here.”

He sighs, and the familiar sound makes me long to be back in his rooms at the academy, cleaning up a puddle of water one drop at a time while Tia laughs in my head.

A moment later, he crawls into the tent and sits beside me. “I’m so sorry, Talon.”

I say nothing. What’s there to say?

“Jaimin said it happened fast—that she wouldn’t have felt pain.”

“She felt nothing,” I correct. “She didn’t even know it happened. She was just… gone.” The connection between us told me that much, if nothing else. One minute, she was soaring above us, gloating about the idiot archers who thought mere arrows could harm a dragon, and then next… nothing.

She was ripped from my head. From her life. From my life.

Master puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Look at me.”

I shake my head. I can’t.

“Look at me, Talon,” he orders.

“Master, I can’t .” My voice is raw. “If I do, she’ll be…”

“She’s dead, Talon. Nothing can change that. Her soul has moved on. It’s right that you grieve for her—she deserves that—but what would she say if she saw you now?”

A sob escapes me.

“Look at me. That’s all you need to do. Just turn your head.”

I take in Tia’s face, committing every last millimeter to memory… but Master’s right. This isn’t her anymore. This face, so still, so devoid of expression, isn’t my sister. Tia never had a thought or feeling she didn’t share.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and release her hand.

And weep.

Master’s arm comes around my shoulders, and he pulls me to him. “I’m so sorry. So very sorry.”

It’s a long time before my sobs subside, and I draw a shuddering breath. Master passes me a handkerchief.

“The riders want to see her,” he says in a low voice. “And talk to you. As far as I can tell, they don’t know.”

“Nobody will know.”

I grit my teeth, but Master needs to hear that. “Leicht says nobody will know,” I repeat in a flat tone. I want to tell him to get out of my head, but I don’t want to give him the recognition of a response.

Master gulps, but it’s followed by a nod. “Good. We’ll talk about it later, when we can be assured privacy.”

Remembering what Jaimin said, I whisper, “If anyone says anything about the dead archers, play it down.”

This time his eyes widen. “Gods’ turds, Talon. What is this mess?”

There’s no answer to give.

“We’ll talk about that too,” he murmurs grimly. “Are you ready to face the riders?”

I suck in another deep breath. “No. But I will.”

He hesitates. “You know they’ll want to take?—”

“No.” I cut him off firmly. “No. Nobody’s taking her away, not when some maniacs are raising zombies.”

“As her closest family member, you can request a rider’s pyre for her,” he points out. “They won’t inter her.”

“I will, and they’ll do it here, where I can watch and be sure it’s done.” I’m not taking any chances that someone will disrespect Tia’s corpse and reanimate it. I owe her that.

Master sighs. “We’ll see what can be done. What has the stone had to say?”

Bitterness swamps me. “I don’t care.”

He presses his lips together and says nothing, but I know I’ll hear it later. Maybe he’s right, and yes, I need to work with the stone to complete this mission, to avenge Tia’s death and give it some meaning, however small, but at this particular moment… I don’t care. I would happily take a hammer to the stone and see it shattered to dust, even if the end of the world followed.

“Come on then,” Master says, deciding to stick with the safer topic. “The riders are waiting. Rider Master Hearne came himself, and Rider Kanesha. She insisted—said Tia was a favorite of hers and refused to believe it unless she saw with her own eyes.”

I’m glad. Tia liked Kanesha, and she used to tolerate me hanging around a lot more than the other instructors and senior riders. It will be good to have a familiar, fond face here to farewell my sister.

“I’m ready.”

Master eyes me critically, like he doesn’t believe me, but nods and backs out of the tent. I crawl after him, blinking as I step outside for the first time since yesterday afternoon.

It’s a gray morning, and the weak winter dawn seems to be mourning Tia just as much as I am. Behind me, Leicht has moved, standing now, his attention on the camp. Not too far away, I see two more dragons, one bigger, one smaller. Both still enormous.

And waiting for me is a cluster of five people. Jaimin seems relieved to see me, but still worried. He half lifts a hand in my direction before letting it drop. Coryn’s eyes are red-rimmed, but his face is hard—he’s scary Coryn still, and I never thought I’d want one of his hugs, but I do. Right now, more than almost anything, I want a squeezy bear hug.

Rider Kanesha’s face is also concerned, her eyes puffy, and she gives me a sympathetic half-smile that’s not a smile at all. Rider Master Hearne, I don’t know, but I remember him from the council meeting when the stone arrived. His no-nonsense manner appealed to me then, and the hard-bitten anger and grief in his expression appeal to me now. Behind them?—

“Get him away from me.” The words tumble from me, and for the first time all night, the stone stirs in my mind, reproach pulsing through me. I don’t care. I’m not ready to see one of those damned priests yet. I don’t care if he is a blameless acolyte and is being forced to come with us.

“Talon,” Jaimin begins, then sighs and turns to look at the acolyte. “Go wait in your tent, Arimen.”

The boy—because he is just a boy, barely older than my students—flees. The urge to send a fireball after him is strong, but I resist.

Kanesha steps forward. “Talon, I’m so very sorry. This is a great loss to us all.”

I nod but find myself unable to speak—again.

“I didn’t know her well,” Hearne adds, his voice lower and rumblier than I remember, “but I was impressed by what I knew. She was going to go far with the riders, and everyone respected her—even those who didn’t like her.”

That makes me smile, just for a second. “She always says that. She didn’t need the world to be her friend, but she wanted their respect.” I close my eyes. “Said that. She said that.” It’s wrong to speak of her in past tense like this. It burns my tongue. “Master said you wanted to see her—you should know, I haven’t… I wasn’t able to remove… The arrow is…”

They understand immediately. “Thank you for warning us,” Kanesha says. “Would you like us to take care of that?”

I consider that, but it needs to be me. I owe her that much. So I shake my head. “Please leave it. I understand it’s not your usual policy, but I’d like for her pyre ceremony to take place as soon as possible. Today.”

“Today?” Hearne’s startled exclamation is almost a shout, and he clears his throat. “I beg your pardon. Today seems a bit hasty—our dragons are tired, and we’d like them to rest for a while before another flight. It would be late before we got back to the City of Knowledge.”

I prepare to stand firm. “You misunderstand me. I mean for the ceremony to take place here.”

Kanesha looks around at the empty fields, then exchanges a glance with Hearne. “Here?”

“Yes.”

“You wouldn’t rather be back at the City, where your friends and hers could be there to support you?”

“No.”

Hearne looks at Master, who clears his throat. “What Talon means is, he’s unable to return to the City at this time. His mission demands all his attention, especially now, and he’d like to see his sister at rest before he continues.”

The reminder of why we’re even out here in Camblin to start with seems to resolve the issue for them, and Hearne nods soberly. “That’s understandable. It’s not our usual practice, but I suppose an exception can be made.”

One of the knots in my chest loosens slightly.

Jaimin steps forward. “Why don’t you look in on Tia?” he suggests. “Talon hasn’t had a chance to eat yet. We can finish this conversation in a few minutes.”

Wait… he wants me to leave Tia unguarded? To let the riders go into the tent while I’m somewhere else? I open my mouth to protest, but with a sharp glance at me, he continues, “Coryn and I will stay with you while Talon and his master refresh themselves. I’m sure we can answer any questions you might have.”

My mouth closes. I trust Jaimin. He’s earned that, keeping secrets that could end me. He was the one who told me to call Master here. He was the one who managed the priests. If he wanted to betray me, he could have. But it goes deeper than that—I know I can trust him with everything I am. I just wish I’d trusted him sooner.

He’ll protect Tia—I know he will. And Coryn will back him up. With them both standing guard, plus Leicht, she’ll be safe.

I nod, and Master draws me away from the tent, toward the small fire nearby. There’s another tent set up beside it, but I’m not interested in sleep right now.

“Do you want to wash?” Master asks. “I saw a stream as we were flying in.”

I shake my head but suddenly become aware of a pressing need. “No, but I need a minute.” I gesture toward some scraggly bushes closer to the road, and understanding dawns on his face.

“Go. I’ll make you some tea and find food.”

I want to refuse, but my traitorous stomach chooses that moment to rumble with hunger, so instead, I hurry off toward the makeshift privy. When all this is over, I’m never again relieving myself outdoors—especially in winter.

The water must have been hot already, because when I get back to the fire, Master hands me a steaming tin cup and two currant buns. “Where did these come from?” I ask, then tear into one. The sweet, yeasty dough almost brings me to tears.

“We brought some supplies. I went down to the kitchens to tell the cooks what I needed and happened to mention your name.” He lifts a brow and continues dryly, “It was as if I’d uttered a magic word. They tried to give me a whole side of beef.”

I manage a weak smile.

Master glances past me, then lowers his voice. “Tell me quickly—what happened, why is there an acolyte of Wasianth here, and why do you hate him?”

Rage surges again, but I shove it aside. “We were stopped on the road by a bishop of Wasianth and assorted underlings. They demanded the stone, wanted to take me into custody. The stone said—” I swallow bile. “The stone told me one of the acolytes had to come with us, so I tried to negotiate with the bishop. Hidden archers opened fire on us instead.” I shove more of the bun into my mouth to give myself time to regain my composure, and Master waits, his patience thin.

“Leicht swooped overhead to deter them, and…” I can’t say it again. “After, Jaimin cowed the bishop into doing what we wanted. Since Tia is dead by his actions.”

Master Samoine’s gaze sharpens. “The archers belonged to the bishop? Not our enemies?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” he presses.

“He signaled them to attack. They never aimed at the priests, and he never tried to deny it, not even when Jaimin told him the temple would regret killing a rider.”

“Very well.” He nods grimly. “Let Jaimin and me handle this with the riders. Answer only direct questions for now.”

I get to work on the second bun, happy to agree to that.

“But, Talon…”

That’s his you’re-not-going-to-like-this tone, and I lower the bun. “Yes?”

He meets my gaze, serious and a little apologetic. “If the stone says you need the acolyte, it’s not a good idea to make an enemy of him.”

“He did that. Not me.”

“Did he? He’s an underling, a mere student. I doubt he had any part of the bishop’s plans. He was just along for numbers.”

“He’s a cog in a religion that thinks killing people to get what they want is okay. I don’t want friends like that.”

Master sighs but doesn’t press. The stone pulses its disappointment, but I’m still ignoring it. “The riders will want to leave after the ceremony,” Master says, changing the subject. “We’ll need to find time and privacy to talk before then, and I believe it would be best if Master Kahwyn joined us for at least part of that conversation.”

I know what he’s hinting at—will I allow Tia to be left without me or Jaimin? “Maybe we could stay within sight,” I begin, although we’d need to be fairly close to be able to step in if necessary, and that would put us within hearing as well. “Or?—”

“I will watch over her and warn you if needed.”

“Stay out of my head,” I hiss, and Master gives me a startled look before understanding crosses his face.

“Talon,” he says gently, but I hold up a hand. I don’t need it explained to me.

Leicht can’t stay out of my head. He’s in my head, and there’s no way around that.

For now.