Page 6

5

Hope

T he steady banging music at the Sweetgum Beech kept the girls busy dancing and drinking myster. The girls being the regular night dancers: Lenna, Indianna, and Sasha.

Of the nocturnal shows in the busiest square of Corentre, Hope’s favorite part was the colored water fountains surrounding whoever was performing.

The height of the safehouse was a privileged spot to enjoy these concerts. The girls were now jumping in a close circle, shouting some lyrics at the top of their throats while pointing to the red-tinged moon in the sky.

Hope chuckled from the rail of the balcony. Her head didn’t pound as hard as the first time she had heard such loud music. It wasn’t bad at all, in fact.

As for dancing, she doubted she would ever be relaxed enough to move her body at ease for any reason that wasn’t fighting. It was amusing to see other beings living it so much.

The song finished its high, and the girls had a laughing fit as they hugged each other in a tangle of arms and heads.

Lenna filled a glass with myster and walked next to Hope, offering it to her with the confident grin of someone who wasn’t used to being refused, or who didn’t mind being refused.

“They didn’t take long to fix the Cardinals Temple, did they?” Lenna snorted, looking at the crystal dome crowning the Organ House in the middle of Corentre. The dome Hope had unintentionally destroyed in a thousand pieces during her Fifth Ceremony.

“I guess more panoms-to-be will need their ceremonies, and it cannot be good for the Organ House’s reputation.”

Lenna shook her head. “As much as it pains me to admit, I think I love this city.” Her mass of red waves flew to the side as Lenna snapped her head to look at Hope. The golden tone of her eyes was unnervingly similar to that of her golden magic sparks and her ink. “Have you ever been in love, Hope?”

Hope’s eyebrows shot up, a knot automatically sitting in her chest as if she had received a kick between her lungs.

How to tell a woman who probably was in love with Jake that love was a trap, and one of the most dangerous ones?

“I haven’t, and I don’t want to. I don’t need to. Love can kill and drown.” The knot tightened at some very vivid memories of her childhood. Love had certainly drowned her mother.

Lenna narrowed her eyes. “Love can uplift and heal, too. It can transform.”

“There are other ways to do those things that don’t involve putting one’s heart at risk of utter destruction,” Hope said.

She respected Lenna’s opinions, but she was not going to change her mind. Not when her mother’s love had killed her, and Hope had been a witness.

“Are you in love, Lenna?”

The red-haired woman took her time drinking some myster before answering. “I would kill anybody who would harm Jake in any way. I would kill him when he makes my blood boil for all the wrong reasons.” Lenna bit her bottom lip before saying, “I feel safe with him as I have never felt. I want to know him more and I am afraid of not having enough days to do so, even with our never-ending long panom lifespans.”

“Do you trust him?” Hope asked.

Lenna’s lips tightened in a thin line. “I have come to the conclusion that I will never fully trust anyone. Which is very sad, but . . . It’s true. There is always a part of me holding back. A part of me expecting abandonment, betrayal or lies. As if not giving my full trust is the only way to protect myself from being hurt. I don’t think I even know how to fully trust someone, because I have never done so. Jake is no exception to this.”

Lenna exhaled deeply. Her eyes had a glassy look when she turned to face Hope. “Please don’t tell your brother,” she begged, her voice low as if she was ashamed of herself and what she had just admitted out loud.

“I won’t,” Hope promised.

It was way past ante meridiem, and Hope couldn’t sleep.

The inner constant trail of questions and need for information was threatening to outburst her mind. She had lived with unanswered questions for decades, yet now that answers were a thing, she didn’t seem to know how to wait.

Maybe that was a good thing. A sign that life didn’t have to be a continuous mystery that slapped her face when she least expected it, even if it made her more impatient.

There was only one person who she dared talk to about her current worry. One person who could understand what she was talking about and not judge her for it.

Hope followed the scent of night and pine through the safehouse, down the extremely dark corridor that left her slamming her head against the intended door.

A rush of air was the only sign that Ciaran opened his door. “Very glamorous knocking.”

Both the corridor and his bedroom were pitch black. He must have realized or remembered not everyone could see in the shadows, like his courtrade blood allowed him to. The next and first thing Hope saw were his blue eyes glittering on his pale face, followed by the shiny reflection of his metallic arm moving before dark green sparks illuminated his bedroom.

Another couple of movements of his arms reigned the black shadows to nothing. A bedroom full of packed bookshelves and weapons appeared in front of her eyes.

“Isn’t it a bit late to be playing with weapons?” Hope asked.

“It’s never too late for that,” he said, and Hope couldn’t have agreed more. “May I help you?”

“I . . . I have a question. About my magic.”

Ciaran nodded. “Do you want to come in, or would you rather talk on the patio?”

Hope hesitated for the long span of half a second. She had never been in his bedroom before, and it felt like an intrusion of privacy. Even if this man had licked her blood to find out about her heritage, had helped her become a full panom by having a Fifth Ceremony, and had protected her after she semi-destroyed the island when her magic unleashed.

“Here is fine,” she said entering his bedroom and heading towards one of the armchairs before she could reconsider her decision.

She was surprised to find Ciaran closing the door with a slight smile on his lips. Green sparks flickered intensely, rearranging themselves around the seating area as Ciaran sat in front of her.

“I’m all ears,” he said, placing his muscled and metallic arms comfortable on the armrests.

“You told me about the inner balance of the magics. Of Giving and Taking, and Healing and Harming, and how opposite powers must be used warily to not tilt the magical scales. You said different panoms react differently when their scales are unbalanced.”

His blue eyes were patient, and Hope was perfectly aware that she hadn’t asked her question yet.

“I have tried pushing the use of one of the powers of each scale to see what happens. And that’s the problem: nothing happens.” Hope exhaled.

“Why is that a problem?” Ciaran asked.

“Well, it doesn’t make sense. The other day, for example. When Jake Gave us something to practice with. After a while, Ayla was half blind, Lenna was very dizzy, and . . . What? I felt just normal ?”

“I wouldn’t say you are normal, Hope. Quite the opposite. I think that, amongst many other things, makes you extraordinary,” Ciaran said, interlacing his fingers in front of his broad chest.

Hope blinked. Being dumped as a baby on an island where unwanted beings were discarded by Thyrian society was extraordinarily wrong. But she got his point, or a part of it.

“Is it common to not feel the inner balance tilting? Do you feel anything when you use one power without its opposite?”

“Panoms don’t share their weaknesses widely. But, in cases like Ayla and Lenna, their symptoms are visible,” he said. “My guess is every panom in Thyria feels something. You must be amongst the exceptions. If not the exception.”

“Why?” Hope asked, playing with the loose strands of her braid as a theory grew in her mind.

Ciaran moved his eyes from the spot of dark hair she was holding to her black eyes. “You are the first female in centuries with panom blood that belongs to the Core. Your blood is linked to the strongest part of Thyria, the Organ House that rules over the others. And . . . The panom mark at the back of your neck and your magic is red. Red , Hope.”

Hope inhaled sharply. The redness of her magic was in line with her new theory.

Ciaran continued, “The goddesses who created our land are red Cardinals. Red is a sacred color, and they have blessed you with it. Perhaps not suffering from an inner balance is another blessing.”

“Only the Fifth knows,” her voice was graver than she intended to. “You haven’t answered my other question. Do you feel anything?”

“I do, and I’ve never told anyone,” he said.

Hope nodded in silence. She wouldn’t ask him for details. They barely knew each other, at the end of the day. It was none of her business to know his deepest, most guarded secrets.

For her own sake and self-preservation, she was going to keep quiet about her balance circumstances too.