Page 107 of Swords of Soul and Shadow (Gate Chronicles #3)

UNTIL THE STARS FALL

Hallie

THIS TIME, THE PAIN WAS different.

Her skin still burned, but not with heat—it burned like holding a fistful of snow without her gloves. The dark did not gleam with gold; instead, it pulsed with a halo that glowed faintly blue.

Under her skin, the fire remained. Its searing heat warred with the icy, piercing sting scraping over her skin, both only worsened by the caress of some kind of fabric. A blanket, maybe. Everywhere her skin was exposed, the fabric’s touch only fanned the flames.

But once again, she knew she wasn’t dead. Because she could hear familiar voices floating somewhere nearby…and because death would’ve been better than this.

The last thing she remembered was losing control of her power as Ben fell from the dragon’s back.

She’d been gripping both the goggles and a power tendril, but she’d lost hold of both.

Heaviness thickened the blood in her veins at the memory of the giant reptile, its huge wings spread wide, maw open, flame building in its throat.

Kase.

Hallie jerked and pushed herself to her elbows, the pain receding with her panic.

She winced still. The room was dark, lit only by a small gas lantern near her cot.

Hanging linens surrounded her little cell.

One was black as night but streaked with dust. Seemed she’d been given a more private room than most. She wasn’t sure why; she wasn’t anyone special.

The voices on the other side of the partition weren’t concerned with waking the convalescing, clearly.

Several shadows moved across the hanging linen in front of her.

It felt like watching a strange show at Grieg’s Theater, though not one she really wanted to see.

One of the shadows—and the owner of the loudest voice—was Kase.

His curly hair was slightly amorphous in shadow form, but she could tell it was him; the shadow he was arguing with was his father, straight-backed and lean as ever.

The third shadow was more difficult for Hallie to distinguish, as he or she was only a bystander to the argument at hand.

Kase was okay.

Her vision blurred for a moment.

“If anything, I saved lives. Again ,” Kase shouted. “And now we have Skib—I mean, Ben—who could—”

“Who has been working with the Cerls ,” Harlan said, his voice quieter than Kase’s but not without ringing authority. “I warned you about the dangers of using that machine!”

“I was doing a patrol.”

“That you weren’t scheduled to do for three more hours.” When Kase failed to come up with an answer, Harlan scathingly added, “And you endangered Miss Walker, one of our greatest assets we have in this war.”

“She’s not just an asset ,” Kase growled.

“Yet another reason why I’m unsure as to why you risked her life in the hover.”

Kase went silent again.

Hallie’s heart ached for him. His father was right, though Hallie loathed to admit it— she’d had no business being up in the hover. If she was to do anything at all, she couldn’t risk her life needlessly before she was able to restore the swords and the Essence powers to the Gates. Stupid.

But even if they’d made a mistake going up in the hover, Kase had defeated a dragon—the same monster that had destroyed much of Kyvena.

Even if he’d been reckless, he’d proved he could take down the entire Cerl fleet with only his single ship, Merlin.

Why couldn’t his father see that? Was it solely because of his fear of the technology? Or was it something else?

Did he actually care for Kase in his own, if demented, way?

Another voice spoke up; the other shadow.

“Miss Walker is stable,” Jove Shackley said.

“Kase got her to Saldr in time. No lasting damage was done.” He paused, and neither his brother nor father filled the brief silence.

“This may also prove she can restore the electricity. Saving Ben Reiss was quite the feat.”

A few other voices joined the fray.

“Where is she?” Her mother’s voice demanded, her shadow joining the others.

Her father followed, his silhouette thicker than the others. “Where is my daughter?”

Kase parted the sheet in front of her and allowed her parents inside. His eyes were rimmed in red, as if he hadn’t slept in days. His curls were even more unkempt than usual, like he’d gone flying with the windshield down—or like he’d been dragging his fingers through them over and over.

How long had she been out?

When he made eye contact with her, his shoulders caved in. He broke eye contact almost immediately, ducking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose, expelling a harsh breath she could hear all the way on the cot.

She couldn’t read that reaction. Frustration? Relief? Was he angry she’d used her power?

Her still-aching body protested as she sat up further. Her parents were both rather pale, but upon seeing her awake, they perked up. Her father hastened over and helped her. She winced.

“What hurts, Lark?” her father asked, eyes combing over her, trying to assess what he could do to fix whatever was broken.

Hallie shook her head, but that only made her wince more. Kase swiftly closed the sheet, staying outside rather than joining them. He said something low, and the other shadows moved away.

Nausea squirmed in Hallie’s stomach for more than one reason. She needed to speak with the Stradat Lord Kapitan. It wasn’t all Kase’s fault.

She was the one who’d chosen to use her power.

The pain in her head only sharpened the longer she sat up. Her father pulled a vial of Pick Up out of his pocket. He popped open the stopper and helped her drink it. “Last one.”

She grimaced as the moldy taste slithered over her tongue but got it down. Her mother sat on the edge of the cot.

Hallie tried to give them a smile, but even those muscles hurt.

Her mother’s eyes watered, and she flung herself on top of Hallie and squeezed her.

Hallie sucked in a breath at the pain. Her father tucked away the empty vial and put a hand on her head, stroking her hair.

She bit her cheek to keep from crying outright.

Her mother released her and pulled back, kneeling on the rocky floor, hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “What possessed you to do that?”

…And the reunion was over.

Guilt flooded Hallie’s face with heat. Not the painful kind. “Mama, we were just on a patrol,” she said, repeating Kase’s excuse. Her mouth felt funny, like it was moving too slowly.

Her feeble protests weren’t enough to dissuade Zelda Walker.

“After everything you went through,” her mother hissed, squeezing her shoulders harder, “you went and made yourself a target?”

“Zelda.” Hallie’s father went around to her and pulled her to her feet. “Easy. She’s still recovering.”

“Mama, I appreciate the concern,” Hallie said, trying to adjust her position. Her father hurried to take the pillow and prop it behind her. It only helped a little. “But just because you showed up in the capital doesn’t mean you have any say over what I do.”

The lines on her mother’s face deepened, and Hallie knew she’d stepped over a line—even if she’d told the truth. She winced. Her parents simply cared, and Hallie had immediately become defensive. But this was one of the reasons she’d left Stoneset behind.

Her mother sat back a little more. Her father cleared his throat. “That’s not fair, Lark.”

“I know.” Stars, Hallie’s head hurt. She rubbed her eyes.

She’d just woken up from whatever had happened, and now she had to have it out with her parents.

She was too tired to dig into the matter, and she didn’t care to rehash the past. While she knew she wasn’t being fair, that didn’t repair the damage her own parents had done over three years prior.

And it didn’t change the fact that she could make her own choices.

Zelda sniffed. “I just want you to be safe.” She crossed her arms and rubbed them as if she was cold. “A mother shouldn’t have to Burn her child, much less two of them.”

Hallie didn’t have a response to that, not at all. She was the worst daughter on the planet. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

It was all she could muster knowing what she planned to do.

Her mother would have no choice but to mourn her. It wasn’t fair. Life never was. But she couldn’t do anything about it.

“Don’t be sorry. Just come home with us.” Her mother’s voice broke.

Hallie swallowed hard. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m needed here.” She scrubbed at her eyes, trying to stop the tears before they started. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve not been the daughter you needed or wanted, but I can’t leave now. I’m the only one who can stop this madness.”

Zelda shook her head, but her father pulled her to his chest and said, “What do you mean?”

Hallie’s head was pounding. She really didn’t want to go into it all, not with them. They wouldn’t understand. But how else was she going to convince them to let her do what she needed to do? It’d been hard enough trying to convince Kase, and she hadn’t even succeeded.

“I need to stay,” she said lamely. “I need to use my power to stop what’s coming, and…and when I do…”

Thankfully, someone else entered the room and saved her from some tense conversation that would only lead to hurt feelings and reopened wounds.

“Hals?”

Kase.

Hallie searched his face intently. No new scratches or evidence of harm other than the scar along his cheek.

Under his eyes, dark circles were beginning to form, but Hallie was certain hers mirrored his.

They looked a little redder, a little damp, but no tearstains gleamed on his cheeks. Still, her heart broke to see it.

But he was okay. He hadn’t suffered any ill effects from the dragon battle nor the argument with his father.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll just wait out here,” he said as he spotted her parents, like he’d forgotten he’d let them in.

Her father shook his head. “No, it’s all right, son. Come on in.”