Page 16

Maybe

“I don’t like this,” Tabra says. She hasn’t stopped saying it all the way from Savanah, through the portal to the Arydian city of Poileh, and deeper into the desert between the city and where Cain and Pella’s zariphate is camped. “I know you have to go. I get it. But I’m not useless anymore. I can—”

Her hands suddenly light up, the purple glow not as obvious in the sunlight, but there all the same.

“Easy,” Scoria murmurs.

Tabra closes her eyes and the glow disappears. Same as me, emotions are still setting her off, even after Scoria’s tutoring.

She opens her eyes, then wrinkles her nose in frustration.

“Aryd needs at least one queen.” I say it softer than I would have for anyone else. I don’t point out that this is what I was born to do. To handle the dangerous tasks in her place. She hates those reminders.

“I do not like this, either,” Bene grumbles.

I don’t have Reven’s shadow pocket to hide Savanah’s amulet in, and damned if I was going to let anyone else risk themselves wearing it. But now that I have it around my neck, at least I can hear Bene again.

I don’t translate for the others, ignoring his glare.

Unaware, Tabra huffs out her own frustration through her nose. “If we need to negotiate for allies, it should be me. I’ve been trained for that.”

Fair point. “We won’t be able to negotiate until I clear the Wildernyss temple of what Reven did.” Of the souls he trapped there in shadow.

Assuming I can even get into that temple.

An eager spark lights Tabra’s eyes in a way that reminds me of…me. “Okay, so you go first, but don’t destroy the portal you make here. I’ll wait. When it’s safe, bring me through to talk to Trysolde and Istrella.”

She isn’t going to let this go. I can see she isn’t. “I think my stubborn is wearing off on you,” I grumble.

She perks up. “Really?”

I roll my eyes.

“That’s not a good thing, T,” Vos tells her.

She laughs, still eyeing me. “But you’re going to let me.”

I sigh. Really, I shouldn’t be the one granting permission here. I’ve been wondering when Tabra will figure that out. That no matter who bows before me, she is still the Queen of Aryd. Firstborn and, as she said, better prepared and trained to rule. I was only trained to pretend.

Someday soon, I know she’ll realize it, too. She’ll stop asking and start commanding. Part of me dreads that day, because how can I protect her then? But part of me is waiting, because that’s when I’ll know she doesn’t need me anymore. Not really. She’ll be ready.

“Fine,” I say.

“Are you certain?” a Shadow slithers into my mind. I stuff him back down. Scoria’s tutelage has helped me contain them better. But shut them up? Nope.

Unaware of that too, my sister shoots me a triumphant smile.

I rush to add, “But until we come get you, hide out of sight behind that dune.” I point.

“I can do that.” She immediately starts plodding through the sand.

Pella follows, tossing an, “I’ll keep her safe,” over her shoulder.

Hakan watches her go, not that she sees.

Pella is more than capable of protecting my sister, but I look at Bene anyway.

He gives a growl that raises the hairs on my arms. In Savanah, he stayed in his raven form to keep from alarming the guards. Here, he can’t be full-sized, or he’d be spotted on the horizon. Instead, he’s taken on the form of a massive wolf made of sand but more vicious than any real wolf could ever be. “You left me behind before and unfortunate events transpired.”

“Please?” I ask him.

After giving me a hard look, he snorts his displeasure, blowing up sand, but prowls after her all the same.

Hakan stays with us. I know it’s killing him not to follow Pella, but for now I need him more.

I immediately get to work making yet another portal. It doesn’t take me too long until the workable wall of glass stands firm and tall in the sands. I place my hand on the smooth surface, but don’t press my power into it. Not yet.

I look over my shoulder. The trapped shadow souls should be sleeping, like the ones in the Shadowood did, but just in case, Cain, Hakan, and Vos already have their glowing hands up. Horus has an arrow nocked. I glance at Scoria, who nods. The plan is to get me in and set before she comes and forces the shadows to wake up and come out to play.

Goddess, please let this work.

The glass goes opaque, then it clears and I’m looking into a room I’ve been in only twice before—the Wildernyss temple, with its simple gray granite stones, arched doorways, and scrolling carvings across the mantle of the door. There are other adornments, but I can’t see them clearly—or any of it clearly—because the glass on the other side is cracked, distorting the view.

“At least you didn’t shatter it completely, Mer,” Cain says with forced cheer.

“Though you may be torn to ribbons getting through,” a Shadow offers.

I grit my teeth, reminded of a Wanderer proverb. In the moments of your successes are sown the seeds of your own destruction.

I’m pretty sure I’m looking at a seed right now.

Eidolon was coming at us through the Wildernyss temple portal the last time we were here and I shattered the side we were standing on, apparently cracking this one in the process. No one can pass through it in this state. They’d come out the other side ground up bits of flesh and bone.

“Can you fix it?” Vos asks.

“We’ll see.” Leaving one hand in place, holding the portal open, I use my other to call sand to me, heating and molding it the way I did earlier. Then, I carefully press the molten liquid into the cracks. It’s a painstaking process, moving little by little. When I’m done, I sit back on my heels, having worked on the bottom portion last, and stare at my patches.

“Good job,” Cain says behind me.

I hum vaguely. “The question is will it work without maiming or killing anyone who passes through.”

A flash of movement out of the corner of my eye is my only warning before Horus jumps through. He does it so fast, I gasp, certain I’m about to see him sliced all to the hells.

“It works fine, domina. You did well.”

He’s still whole. Unharmed. I could shake him. “Goddess help me, Horus.”

His gaze softens, the lines around his eyes easing. It’s not the first time I’ve caught myself pretending he could be my father who died before I was born, and this is a moment between father and daughter.

He reaches out a hand to beckon me through. “I’m your bodyguard. It’s my job and my honor.” Throwing my arguments to Tabra in my face.

“If you die for me, let it be doing something less foolish and more honorable than that.”

“If I did not like him, I would question his methods,” Bene comments from back in the dunes where he’s tucked.

“I knew you’d try it on your own.” He smirks, the lines bracketing his mouth crinkling. “Sometimes you have to be saved from yourself—”

“Never mind,” Bene says. “His methods are sound—”

Darkness, slick like tar, curls around his stomach and yanks Horus off his feet.

“Shit!” Vos yells as he runs through the portal, Cain and Hakan right behind him.

I thought the shadow souls here wouldn’t have awakened yet, that we’d have time to get us all in place on the Wildernyss side first. It took Reven’s presence to stir them to life in the Shadowood. Or…maybe it was Eidolon’s Shadows’ presence? After all, Mimick woke. But none of those have been here. Why are they awake?

“They’re alive—”

The voices of the Shadows inside me cut off abruptly. Then Scoria’s voice sounds from on the Wildernyss side beyond the portal room. “Here!”

Wait, what? She was supposed to give us time to get set before meeting us in the temple.

I jump through, shutting the portal down behind me before I sprint into the darkness toward her voice. The hairs on the back of my neck, my arms—hells, all over me—stand at attention like I’m too close to Hakan when he’s using his lightning, and I swear I can feel the breath of a trapped soul breathing down my neck.

Any second, I expect a tar tentacle to knock me off my feet or drag me away. But none do, and I burst into the massive sanctuary with buttressed ceilings soaring overhead. Enough room for Scoria to stand within, though she’s flattened several wooden pews. The others are with her, including Horus, though I have no idea how he got free.

“I have them frozen,” she assures me. She doesn’t look away from whatever she’s focused on behind me. “Your turn, Meren.”

That’s the first time I’ve ever heard strain in the giantess’s voice. Is she shaking a little?

I spin around and feel the blood drain from my face at the sight of a wall of darkness. Within it, at least twenty different faces writhe and press outward, trying to get free of Scoria’s grip.

Reven did this.

To protect us—to protect me —Reven did something he despised himself for. He did the same thing that happened to Mimick.

I fixed her. Can I fix twenty?

“Hurry,” Scoria urges, even more strained.

I close my eyes and picture everything the way I did when I helped Mimick, then I move from soul to soul, like they’re in a queue. I know one is healed when Scoria says, “Good,” from behind me, and I move on. Not once do I open my eyes. It’s not worth the risk that I mess this up in my usual royal fashion.

The cold of Eidolon’s powers coursing through me turns more intense with each passing moment until it feels like I’m sitting in the middle of Tyndra, allowing the miserable cold to turn me into an ice princess, except I’m freezing from the inside out, until I’m shaking with it so hard, my teeth are chattering.

But I don’t stop. Not until Scoria grunts. “That is all.”

I manage to stay standing as I open my eyes to the sight of twenty shadowy individuals, now shaped like humans.

Great mother goddess Nova, I did it.

I honestly didn’t think I could. Or that it would work.

Did Reven feel when I released these souls? Will he know what it means? That he can let go of the guilt he carries for what he did to those people?

Faith flickers inside me like the flame of a dying candle. If I can do this here, I can do it in the Shadowood, too.

That’s right. Release those souls and build yourself an army. One that can’t be killed. One loyal to you.

I still. Was that the Shadows? Did one get past Scoria? Only, it didn’t sound like them. I look up at the giantess whose obsidian eyes glint back at me in the lantern light, but she’s not acting like she noticed anything.

Which means it wasn’t Shadows.

I think over the words, the idea. My idea. Building an army isn’t the worst thing I can think of. Scoria will come if it means saving more souls.

The question is, will the others let me go? If Reven were here, he’d support me. Though probably not if I told him the part about the army being immortal…and loyal to me.

I’ll just keep that to myself.