Page 91 of The Darkening (The Darkening)

Chapter 20

The next few days pass in a whirlwind. The Storm begins to rage as if it’s heard our plans, the wall of black cloud roiling like boiling water, an electric taste on the air even here in the relative safety of the palace. It taunts the city with bolts of lightning that streak through purple-black clouds, plunging the city not into darkness, but into a violet twilight. It’s a reminder that we can’t escape, no matter where we go.

An awareness prickles at the back of my neck: an omen. I dream of Ma and the Storm every night, as if she knows I’m coming, as if she longs for me.

Everyone feels it.

Dalca’s a wildfire-in-waiting; inside him, concealed by his careful commands and royal smiles, the Storm feeds a growing mass of dark sulfuric dread. It’s in his eyes—a boundless field of tinder, begging for a single spark. It’s a dread made more powerful by the hope he carries in equal measure, a war of contrasts with one common enemy.

The Regia’s council falls before Dalca’s charm, approving what he says is a days-long solo training exercise in the ruins of the old city. Ragno Haveli is the only one that doesn’t seem taken in, though I doubt that he has any idea of what Dalca plans.

I note that Dalca doesn’t go to the Regia herself.

In Casvian, the Storm stokes a primal fear. He flinches every time a flash of lightning illuminates a massive eye or a flock of winged beasts or the writhing coil of a colossal serpent. I figure him a coward—I am one too—until I realize who his fear is for.

“This is lunacy,” Casvian hisses, hurrying to keep pace with Dalca’s distance-eating strides, as we speed through the palace toward the entrance to the old city. “This is a new brand of recklessness, even foryou.Are you listening? I’ve looked, Dalca—not a single person has ever been recorded coming out of the Storm. Do you understand? Even if you dowhat has never been done before, you’ll still be coming out cursed.” He grabs Dalca’s arm and spins him around, his voice low and even and far more chilling for how he struggles to contain his fear. “Will you let yourself become cursed? Will you live within the ward in a bed next to your father’s? I went to them. These people, Dalca, they were our friends, our comrades. Now all they can hope for is a less miserable day than the one that came before.Thatis what you can look forward to.Ifyou come out at all.”

Dalca fixes his sky-bright eyes on him, but his mouth wears a smile made for war. “You read Vale’s journal.”

“Yes.” Cas’s eyes flicker to me. He scowls as if this is all my fault.

“And did you agree with his findings?” Dalca asks.

“Findings? They weren’t findings—they wereideas.” He forces each word through his teeth. “You can’t throw away your life on aguess.”

“I won’t let the Regia die, Cas.”

Cas’s eyes give an answer once Dalca turns his back.Let her die. Become the new Regia, a better Regia.Maybe he thinks Pa really is wrong, or maybe he thinks that Dalca can hold on to control of his body by sheer strength of will, unlike every Regia for the past few hundred years.

“Dalca,” Cas calls after him, standing still. “You could come backcursed and not know it. The Storm will find its way into you. What if it speaks through you, commands the Wardana through you, takes the throne? Should we not be afraid?”

Dalca’s fingers tug at the cord around his wrist. “Is this not what we sought in all those years of studying Vale’s work? We knew our search would lead to no easy answer, once we knew Vale would rather die than share it. I’m not saying this is a great plan, Cas. It’s our only plan. And that makes it worth trying.”

Cas lets out a shaky breath. He doesn’t answer.

I bite my lip. Dalca keeps walking. He lets go of the cord, stretching the fingers of his hand wide as if shaking off Cas’s doubt, Cas’s fear.

He glances at me as my feet slow. “Join me? I’m off to see your father.”

I bite my tongue and match his stride as we enter the old city. All the while remembering my last glimpse of Casvian, standing in the middle of the hallway, looking small and terrified and helpless.

Pa can’t see the Storm, what with being so far underground, but even here its influence has reached him. His eyes flick to us, hyperaware, nervous.

“I’ll leave you be,” Dalca murmurs to me, and retreats some fifteen paces. Did he bring me here just so I could say goodbye?

“Pa.” I forget what I meant to say. He’s so drawn and gaunt. “You and Ma went into the Storm, didn’t you?”

He blinks, once, twice, as understanding dawns on him. “You gave him my notebook.”

I straighten my back and nod.

Pa deflates. “I told you, Vesper. I told you how important it is.”

“I’m sorry, Pa. I really am. It wasn’t in me to let you die, not like that, not for no good reason.”

“That wasn’t for you to decide. You’ve taken away my freedom to choose.” His eyes flit to Dalca. “And you’ve given away your freedom as well.”

I raise my chin. “I’m sorry I acted for you. But if there’s a chance of pushing back the Storm... Isn’t that worth it?”