Page 35 of Her Cruel Redemption (The Dark Reflection #3)

Chapter Thirty-Five

I opened my eyes to white light, brighter and warmer than any I’d seen the whole time I’d been in Oceatold. It flooded the little tent, washing away all its flaws and severity. There were fingers on my stomach, tracing fairy stories against my skin. And I wasn’t alarmed or afraid. I turned onto my side, already knowing who I’d see. Who I always saw.

‘I’m dreaming,’ I said, taking in the grey of Draven’s eyes. It didn’t look so hard a colour here. The white light rendered them deeper, softer somehow. Less like unyielding steel and more like sombre clouds.

‘Yes.’ He drew his hand up to cup my face, his movements slow.

‘Why don’t I hate you in my dreams?’

‘You don’t hate me when you’re awake. Why would you hate me when you sleep?’

I didn’t answer. Seemed stupid to argue with a dream. Releasing a shuddering sigh, I ran a hand up his arm. Let myself touch him. ‘It’s exhausting to hate you,’ I said, something I would never ever admit to awake. ‘Sometimes I wish I could stop.’

‘Then it’s simple. Stop.’

‘Nothing about you is simple.’ I brushed the hair from his forehead, toyed with the ends of a dark lock. ‘What would you do if I did?’

His eyes creased with a smile. That artless, unguarded smile I’d only seen him wear a handful of times, with a flash of that elusive dimple. I wished it wasn’t the smile he’d wear when I dreamed him. It made him seem like someone I didn’t want to kill. ‘Love you.’

Even here, it hurt. These were words I’d never heard, and never would. ‘Don’t say that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because this is just a dream.’

He traced his thumb across my cheek, the feather-light touch making something tender and aching rise in my chest. ‘That doesn’t mean it isn’t real.’

‘When I wake, you’ll be gone.’

He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my mouth. I closed my eyes against the sting of sorrow. ‘Then don’t dally in the daylight, my love. Come back to me.’

The white light flared brighter, and then I was blinking my eyes open to a grey morning, to a tent transformed back to its drab austerity. I swallowed down that aching feeling, touched fingertips to my lips, like I was feeling for the ghost of his. The urge to close my eyes again, to go back to sleep, overwhelmed me for a moment. But my fear and my anger had woken with me, hissing and spitting at the knowledge my subconscious had dreamed up such a moment, so I kicked off the covers and sat up, exposing myself to the sharp chill on the air.

Mae was still asleep, so I crept quietly out into the cold morning, where the army was already stirring, breakfast fires casting smoke into the grey sky. I walked through the quiet camp, past those bleary-eyed soldiers already preparing for the battle to come, and climbed the embankment to our flank to glimpse a sight of Port Howl. I’d glared at it for a long while when we’d arrived the day before, trying to imagine how we would approach it. It seemed as miserable as anywhere else in Oceatold. Cold and misty, it was a walled city tumbling into a bay, its furthest point some kind of watch tower sticking out of the ocean itself, connected to the mainland by a spindly bridge. The sprawl of the outer regions of the city hugged the coast until the cliffs became a sheltered harbour, where the busiest port in the three kingdoms was usually choked with ships ferrying goods and people to and from the rest of the world. Or, so I’d been told. No one was coming and going from that port now.

The ocean looked moody today, free of whitecaps but still heaving with swell, rocking the dozens of ships sheltered there. Not the merchant vessels and fishing boats that usually frequented the port. The ships now anchored there had carried our enemies to these shores.

Just a little down the far side of the embankment, I was surprised to find King Esario standing in the grizzly dawn, gaze flicking between the port and a map spread between his hands, flapping in the wind. For a moment, I dithered on whether or not to approach him, but he turned his head, glancing in my direction, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of me before beckoning me over.

‘Good,’ he said as I approached. ‘Just who I wanted to see.’

‘Me?’ That was a surprise. Usually I was the last person he wanted to see. I glanced at his map, catching sight of Port Howl rendered from a bird’s eye view.

‘You. We face unsteady odds today, despite our numbers. Soveraux was right when he said we’re outmatched as far as training and experience goes. Most of the soldiers in that camp are unblooded, and the enemy has the advantage of a well-defended position.’

‘Then what will you do?’ I eyed the wall of the port in the distance. ‘Lay siege?’

Esario shook his head. ‘It would cost too much in time and lives. The walls are reinforced with magic. One of the only places in Oceatold built in such a way, which is why it should never have fallen in the first place.’ He frowned down at the city, like it had offended him personally with its inability to withstand the invasion. Then he continued. ‘A few local fishermen came to see me last night with some knowledge of the terrain, though.’ He adjusted his map, tracing a finger along the sketched coastline as he tilted it towards me. ‘There’s a network of caves with openings in the cliffside. Most are inaccessible, but there are two or three we can enter from. The network is a bit of a labyrinth, but the locals can show us through.’ He tapped his finger on the map against two inky crosses as he spoke. ‘There’s an opening in an old drainage channel by the eastern wall, and another in the back room of a tavern.’

‘And the men with this knowledge are fishermen,’ I repeated, arching a brow.

‘Smugglers, most likely. ’ He chuckled, his broad shoulders quaking. ‘I never thought I’d be grateful for a port riddled with them.’

That made more sense. ‘How many know about the caves?’

‘I’m told they aren’t widely known, even among the locals. Most who do know steer clear due to the unsavoury sorts that use them. A bunch of soldiers from foreign shores certainly won’t know of them. If we can keep the bulk of their forces at the wall, we could slip in right beneath their feet and take them by surprise.’

I nodded, mulling it over. ‘It’s a mad plan,’ I said after a moment. ‘If they cotton on to what we’re doing, any of our forces caught down there will be trapped like fish in a barrel. How many will you send into the caves?’ I glanced at the waking camp below, the figures moving about, greeting one another, gathered around coals of the previous evening’s fires with hot mugs and bowls of breakfast.

‘A third, maybe less. We need the rest to keep up appearances and draw attention. Our archers will be stationed on that ridge’—he pointed to the western flank, a spot barely visible from here but strategically positioned—'where they can rain arrows down on any soldiers who try to reinforce the gate.’

‘So you’ll need bait,’ I said slowly, piecing it together. Realising why he’d said he wanted to speak to me. ‘A group to make noise at the gate, just enough to rile them up and make them think that’s the focus of our attack.’

‘Enough to draw their attention while our men get out of the tunnels. We’ll open the gate from within, and the rest of our forces can surge through and overwhelm them.’

‘You want me in that group.’

‘You do seem to have a knack for drawing Soveraux’s attention.’

I let the comment go unremarked on, even though it made my blood quicken just a little. ‘There’s also the fact that I can wield lightning.’

At this, he looked less certain, frowning. ‘It’ll be enough to demand entry, then stage an attack when it’s refused. You’ll not need to fight in any capacity, you’ll merely be there to be seen. I’ll send along some heavy catapults to make it all look convincing and cause some chaos.’

‘With all due respect, Your Majesty, if you’re sending me as a distraction then it would be stupid not to use the full spectrum of disruption I can cause. If you want me in the party attacking the gate, then I’m going to fight.’

‘Throwing around magic like that will terrify my men,’ he said firmly, ‘and that’s without even mentioning the fact that you’re a woman. It’d do more harm than good if you were to get involved in the fighting. You will be there as a spectator.’

I held his gaze, unmoved by the heat in his tone, the boom of authority in his voice. ‘You aren’t my king. You don’t command me.’

His face flushed red, and for a moment I thought he would begin shouting at me. Or perhaps calling for me to be arrested on contempt. But he had a cooler head than I would have given him credit for. ‘Gwinellyn will agree with me,’ was all he said instead. Which was far more effective than ranting and railing. ‘Eat and get some rest before we set out. This fight won’t be easy. Remember that many will likely die, and that we aren’t here to repay your vendetta. Much will be relying on you playing your part, and on our men getting through the tunnels safely.’

Well, I supposed I could consider myself chastened. I bowed my head civilly, before making my way back down the embankment, begrudgingly admitting that I was coming to respect Esario as a king. He seemed to have relatively sound judgement. And I appreciated that he was occasionally willing to level with me and recruit me to his plans.

Of course, flinging lightning around the roof of his palace had likely earned most of his current treatment of me. He could hardly be dismissive of me after that.

The morning activity in the camp gave way to a tense stillness as orders were delivered and word that we would soon be making our move spread. After I’d eaten breakfast I sat in my tent, trying to practice shielding my mind with Mae, my heartbeat unsteady as my thoughts kept darting back to what was coming no matter how hard I tried to keep them calm.

This was where Gwinellyn found us. I stiffened when she slipped into the tent, immediately scanning her features for the anger that had infused our last conversation.

‘Do you feel like you’re getting better at it?’ she asked as she took us in, both sitting cross-legged on our bedrolls. Some of my tension loosened in relief, because she’d managed to ask me a question in such a regular tone of voice.

‘No,’ I admitted.

‘She is,’ Mae quickly interjected. ‘Just slower than she’d like.’

Gwin nodded. ‘Do you think she’ll be able to fend off an attack on her mind during the battle?’

At this question, some of the optimism left Mae’s eyes. ‘Distraction and confusion might be the best strategy.’ She turned to me. ‘Just a repeated phrase, remember? A line of poetry or song can work well, since there’s a rhythm that’ll make it easy to loop through your mind.’

‘Sure,’ I muttered, feeling for the prickle of magic as I battled with the sense of failure at having been so hopeless at building my mental shields. If it came to it, I’d simply strike first, and then Draven would have no chance to test them.

‘I can’t expect you to fight today and go against your beliefs, Mae,’ Gwin said. ‘Elias and Daethie are staying here to help with the wounded, and Goras will be ferrying soldiers out of the fighting for treatment.’

‘I’ll go with Goras,’ Mae replied almost too eagerly, rising to her feet. I wondered if she was thinking of Orym and the slim chance she might have of seeing her when we made it inside the walls. Wondered if she’d spent the night before dreaming of her, and if she hated herself for it.

Gwin embraced the other woman so naturally, and they squeezed each other tight for a long moment. ‘Then please be careful,’ Gwin whispered just loud enough for me to hear as they parted. ‘Look after each other and take as few risks as you can.’

‘Of course,’ Mae said, smiling warmly. She glanced over her shoulder at me. ‘I’ll see you later.’

‘You’d better,’ I replied as she left the tent, and anxiety flickered in my stomach as I watched her go. ‘She’ll be alright,’ I said, more to myself than to Gwinellyn, who was looking tense and drawn as she watched the tent flap close.

‘You’re with the group making the attack on the gates,’ Gwin said when she turned back to me.

‘It seems sensible.’

‘It feels wrong that I’ll be watching from afar.’

‘It’s not wrong. You have to be safe, more than anyone else. No one fighting for you would wish for you to be there with them.’

‘I know. But it still feels wrong.’ She let out a long breath, brow crumpling, eyes dropping to somewhere near my feet. ‘People will die.’

‘People die every day. At least those who die for this are doing it for a reason.’

‘Just try to keep your head. Hang back, let the soldiers do what they’re trained for.’

I stood, stretching out my arms and rolling my neck after sitting still for so long. ‘And no magic, I suppose.’

‘No.’

‘How am I supposed to hold Draven’s attention long enough for half an army to sneak into the city if I can’t draw on the most powerful tool at my disposal?’ I wanted to use it. Needed to use it. Hankered for that rush of power I’d felt on the skywalk at Bright Keep, for the terror I’d inspired. The risk of magic poisoning worried me a little, but I’d beaten it before. Why wouldn’t they wield me as the weapon I was?

‘I think we both know you won’t need lightning to hold his attention,’ Gwinellyn replied, and now, finally, some of yesterday’s conflict tightened her mouth. I opened mine to speak, but she shook her head. ‘We’re not going to continue that conversation now. Let’s just… try and use your relationship with him to our advantage.’ She offered me a half smile, one that still wore anxiety draped around its edges. ‘And stay safe. I don’t…’ her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘I can’t…’

I relieved her from her struggle with whatever emotion she was trying to speak around and rubbed her arm as I steered her out of the tent. ‘I know. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you back here after we’ve liberated the city. Try not to mope around crying over every man who stumbles back with a bruise. You’ll have to be in a good headset for a rousing victory speech.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Oh Aether, a victory speech?’

‘See? I’d prefer my lot to yours. Everyone has their battles to fight.’

With a final reassuring smile, I left her to go and find the segment of the force who would be serving as a diversion with me, anticipation buzzing in my blood. I’d never seen a battle, and perhaps I should have been afraid. I’d certainly never been the sort to risk my life and run headlong into danger for a noble cause in the past. But this didn’t feel like that sort of folly. This felt like an opportunity to settle a score, and I was eager to see it through.

A storm was brewing above, and a sudden shower sent people around me scurrying for cover. I didn’t. I paused and turned my face to the sky, staring up into the rain-speckled grey, basking in the sudden thrum of exhilaration in my blood. I didn’t hug myself tight, didn’t withdraw from the chilling sweep of wind over my skin, and when the growl of thunder rolled out around me, slowly building, building, building, I felt the magic in me rise with it, like the sound was summoning me onwards. I wanted to strike. Wanted to burn. I wanted to tear apart the fabric of the world in a blaze of white.

With a shudder, I shook the feeling away, taking a slow breath to settle the restless churn of magic, before continuing on at a light jog to escape the rain. Perhaps those who were going to be entering the city via the tunnels had one advantage. At least they’d be free of the weather.

General Morozov—the serious, upstanding man who’d attended the negotiation—was leading the assault on the gate, and when I’d found him in the midst of organising his men and planning strategy, he told me, respectfully, that I essentially had nothing to prepare for because I didn’t need to worry about being involved in any of the fighting myself. I was making a nuisance of myself by refusing to return to my tent and insinuating myself in his planning when Daethie found me. I didn’t know how long she’d been standing there by the time I finally noticed her. She seemed content enough to linger on the edges of the circled tents that was serving as Morozov’s command centre, watching as soldiers and pages and heralds and captains raced back and forth.

‘They’ve certainly been making good use of you,’ I remarked as I approached her, noting the nurse’s apron she wore strung around her slim waist, marked with stains I didn’t want to know the origin of. The cocoa-coloured dress was ill-fitting, probably because it hadn’t been made for her, and her hair seemed even frizzier than usual.

She gave a lop-sided shrug. ‘If I can ease suffering, then I will.’

‘Just don’t let them catch you using magic to do it. I don’t know what sort of reaction you’d get. It’s bad enough with everyone eying Mae.’

‘It’s funny when you give me advice you don’t take yourself,’ she replied airily. ‘You’re quite happy for your own magic use to draw attention.’

True enough. I let the comment go unchallenged. ‘What are you doing lingering here? Have you decided to join the gate assault?’

‘I’ve come to see you. There’s something I’ve been meaning to speak with you about for a while.’

Intrigued, I followed her as she led me though the tents until we left the bustle of the camp for a thicket of trees flanking it. There, she seemed satisfied that we perhaps wouldn’t be overheard, sitting on a bank of soft grass in a shaft of sunlight. She patted the ground beside her. ‘Sit.’

I did, buzzing with curiosity as I waited for her to reveal what she wanted to talk about. She studied me, the sunlight turning her blond lashes translucent and gleaming from the uncharacteristically sombre look in her eyes. I shifted my seat, uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

‘Show me how you wield magic,’ she said after a long moment.

I raised an eyebrow. ‘You want me to what?’

‘I want you to show me your magic. Only a little, though. Nothing that will do serious damage if you accidently strike something.’

I bristled, puffing up with indignation. ‘I’m not that incompetent.’

She just smiled faintly, waiting.

Nebulous woman. Could she not just come out and tell me what she wanted? I raised a hand, concentrating hard as I very carefully drew on the humming threads of magic in my awareness. It roared to life with far more energy than I’d expected, engulfing my hand in a flare of light.

Daethie scooted away, surprise widening her eyes. ‘Not that much.’

‘I’m trying,’ I said through gritted teeth, trying to envision the sparks shrinking down. It was like trying to move a phantom limb. And they only flared brighter.

‘Can you aim at something?’ she asked, pointing. ‘How about that tree?’

I fixed on the tree, picking out a knob to aim at as I flung my hand towards it, trying to force the lightning in the direction I wanted it to go. It snapped through the air, leaping over the tree I’d targeted, hitting somewhere beyond with a jolt of shuddering sound. Instantly, my head was aching. I let the magic return to its dormant state with a sigh. ‘Did you see what you wanted?’

‘You treat magic as though it’s an enemy to be wrestled into submission,’ Daethie observed mildly, like I was a flower budding a little later than expected. ‘It looks exhausting.’

‘What else am I supposed to do? It doesn’t do what I need it to. It won’t go where it should.’

She canted her head, tapping a finger against her chin. ‘I wonder if it’s just your human blood, or if you’ve been given it too late. Maybe it doesn’t feel like part of you. We’re gifted as children and our capabilities with magic grow with us.’

‘That doesn’t help me. I can’t go back in time and receive it earlier. I need to learn what to do with it now. What good will it be in the battle to come if I can’t wield it properly?’

She nodded. ‘It could be just as dangerous to you as it would be to your enemies. That’s why I’m going to help you understand it.’

I eyed her sceptically. ‘But I thought you were all against teaching me.’

‘I’m not,’ she replied simply, and she didn’t need to tell me the others likely didn’t know she was here. ‘The threat to your mind and your body from using it is very real, and I want you to take it seriously. But you’re going to use magic with or without help in learning to control it. If I help you, maybe you’ll wreak less harm.’ She took a hold of my hands. I flinched at the sudden contact but didn’t pull away. ‘Breathe,’ she said.

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

I sighed and did as I was told, sucking in a lungful and expelling it back out again. I did this for several breaths, until I began to feel lightheaded.

‘Stop,’ she said.

‘Breathing?’

‘Stop focusing on it so hard. Stop forcing it. You were breathing competently enough until you noticed it. But drawing your attention to it left you immediately trying to control it.’

‘So?’

‘It’s tiring, consciously controlling your breathing. And it loses its flow. It’s the same with magic.’

‘Can you just skip to the part where you tell me what to do to fix it?’

She laughed quietly, though I didn’t see that I’d said anything funny. ‘Impatience won’t help magic either.’

‘I’ve been at this for months now and have got nowhere. Meanwhile, a whole war could rest on my ability to figure this out. If I’m impatient, it’s because it’s taking too long.’

She studied me, head still cocked, completely unphased by my frustration, as impervious to my emotions as an oak tree swaying in the wind. ‘We have a saying in the Living Valley, one we use with newly gifted young ones,’ she said, releasing my hands. ‘Try to push water and it will slip through your fingers and go where it will. But if you carve it a path, it will follow you.’

‘What does that mean?’ I asked, exasperated. If she wanted me to limit my frustration, she should stop speaking in riddles.

‘That you need to stop trying to control it. Magic is lead, not forced, and you’ll get further by feeling it than by thinking it.’

‘Daethie,’ I said firmly, ‘are you going to tell me how exactly I go about doing that, or will you keep feeding me proverbs?’

‘Fine. Close your eyes.’

I hesitated.

‘Do you want my help or not?’ she prompted.

I exhaled and did as she said. The darkness behind my eyelids felt too vast, too empty.

‘Now, feel.’

I scoffed. ‘Feel what?’

‘Yourself.’

‘That’s—’

‘Difficult?’ she supplied. ‘Frightening?’

I pressed my lips together. I didn’t answer, but she already knew.

‘Magic isn’t separate from you, Rhi. It isn’t a wild thing that refuses to be tamed. It is you.’ Her voice softened. ‘And you hate yourself too much to trust it.’

A sharp knot twisted in my chest. ‘That’s not true.’

‘Isn’t it?’

I shook my head.

‘You force your emotions into shapes that don’t fit,’ she continued, as if she were peeling me open with gentle, steady hands. ‘You command them instead of listening.’ She reached forward, pressing a hand to my chest. I cringed away, but she didn’t let go. ‘What are you feeling right now?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Lie.’

I clenched my jaw.

‘Say it,’ she pushed. ‘What’s inside you right now?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It does.’

I swallowed hard. ‘I’m angry,’ I admitted.

‘At what?’

‘Everything.’ My breath came quicker. ‘At myself . At the magic. At you, for making me do this.’

‘That’s a good start. But anger seems to be the emotion you’re most comfortable with. What else?’

‘I’m scared ,’ I snapped, the words cutting out of me before I could stop them. My hands curled into fists. This time, she didn’t ask of what, and I didn’t offer an explanation. Perhaps the fact that we were about to go into battle was explanation enough. Perhaps I was always going into battle, my whole life one constant struggle against the forces of circumstance that would have killed me long ago if I let them. And yes, I was scared of what would happen if I stopped. If I took the time to feel . ‘And I’m sad,’ I whispered, more to myself than to her.

A sudden gust of wind swirled around us. I could feel the magic prickling all through my body, as if stirred by the wind like the trees and the grass.

‘You need to let yourself feel,’ Daethie murmured. ‘You need to let it move . Stop caging it. It’s interfering with your ability to know yourself. You can’t wield your magic because you can’t connect with it and feel the way it’s part of you.’

‘What if I don’t like what I find?’ The words slipped out before I could stop them, barely more than a whisper.

‘That’s not the question you should be asking.’

‘Then what is?’

‘What if it likes you ?’

A tremor ran through me. I released a deep, shuddering breath.

The magic inside me exhaled .

It didn’t explode outward in defiance. It didn’t tear at me, wild and unbound. It simply flowed .

I gasped as the world shifted. I could feel it all—the breath in my lungs, the power in my veins, the pulse of the storm above me. I wasn’t taking from it. I wasn’t forcing it to obey.

I was part of it. And for the first time, it was part of me.

‘Now try again,’ Daethie said. I summoned magic, feeling the pulsing heat of it in my hand, and flung it towards the same knot of the tree.

It missed. Again. Arcing out into the sky this time, so at least it didn’t strike something it shouldn’t have. My head pounded a little harder as it receded, and my shoulders slumped. ‘Maybe if I try and aim at our forces I might manage to strike the enemy.’

‘You’re not ready to wield magic in a battle,’ she said, rising to her feet with supple grace. ‘And you shouldn’t push yourself. I’m going back to the healing tent now, but you should stay and sit with your feelings. Try naming them and understanding them. It’ll get easier. Especially if you do it every day.’

I waited for her to dip out of sight before getting to my feet with a huff of disgust. Sitting with my feelings wasn’t going to help me prepare for a battle. And even if Daethie’s suggestion would help, it felt like the sort of progress that would take a long time to manifest. Lightning flickered in the distance, a low growl of thunder rolling over the hills. I stared up at the storm, at the restless churn of clouds, and clenched my fists.

I didn't have time.

And I didn’t want to name my feelings. Those were better left alone.