Such a Daring Endeavor (19 page)

Jomeini straightens. She shakes her hands at the wrists several times, inhaling and exhaling. Then, caramel hands steadier than I expect, she smooths Shasa’s hair and hovers her palms over the other girl.

Talon bends forward, searching as though he can see what she’s doing. I feel myself tilting forward as well. I wait to sense something in the air, or to catch signs of a spark, something injected into Shasa’s chest, maybe. After several long minutes, Jomeini trembles, slouching back, her shoulders shaking.

“I—I can’t. I’ve done it once before, but I—using so much magic earlier drained me.” She falls back at the word
drained.
Ren veers from his trunk in time to catch her before she collides with the floor. Likewise, Solomus kneels forward, a hand on her elbow, concern cramping his thick brows.

Her lids flutter, and she glances at her grandfather. “Can you?”

Solomus shakes his head. “My magic isn’t what it used to be.”

Shasa’s head flops. I’d almost think she was shaking her head as well if it wasn’t for her motionless chest and pale skin. Talon reaches down and strokes Shasa’s ashen cheek. He inhales, drawing back and clenching the bracelet tighter in his fist.

“She’s so cold,” he says.

“Light, it’s too late.” Jomeini says hoplessly, sinking back against Ren. “It’s too late.”

A circle of sorrow settles over us. Solomus’s lined face downturns pensively, and the expression clamps over my heart. The violent, horrifying past few hours sink in. How Talon nearly lost his life, how I nearly lost mine. But that was nothing compared to this. Shasa was breathing in that dungeon. She was alive. Despite her previous animosity toward me, she was helping us, she helped Ren. And now she’s gone.

Ren chews his lip—he barely knew her, but his anguish is evident. And Talon. The pain on Talon’s fence wrenches me. I wonder what he’s thinking. What he’s wishing.

“Where’s your pack?” I ask my brother, brushing his leg to get his attention.

Ren blinks several times before his gray eyes meet mine.

“Your pack, Ren.”

He breaks from whatever hopeless thoughts trapped him. “Dircey?” he calls over his shoulder to the front of the van. “Did you get my pack out of that room we were in?”

“This thing?” Her attention still on the road, Dircey passes the pack through the open window. I dive for it and turn away, shielding myself from the others. I dig in, feeling for the smooth, tear-shaped crystal on its slim chain among Ren’s clothes, a wad of socks, and what feels like a book. My hand finds purchase, and I yank it out, lowering it around my neck, praying no one got a good enough look at the necklace. Ren’s eyes narrow, but I ignore him.

I shift and touch Jomeini’s hand. “I think I can help you. Let’s try again.”

Weariness strains her expression, but she sighs and gives me a shallow nod. Solomus hobbles forward and crouches between Jomeini on the floor and me on the trunk beside Talon. The wizard rests a quivering hand on my shoulder.

“Only a wizard can restore life, child,” he says tenderly.

“I have to try,” I say, hoping he reads the entreaty in my eyes.

Solomus analyzes me. “Then I, too, will help,” says the wizard, “though I can’t do much. Perhaps together we can accomplish it.”

Jomeini scrutinizes him. For a moment I wonder if she isn’t going to tell him no. Finally, she concedes. “Think of it like trying to weave fragments of her back into one piece again,” Jomeini instructs.

I nod, no time to second guess.

Jomeini places her hands over Shasa’s forehead, still in the smaller girl’s lap. I kneel forward attempting to add mine when the maiden wizard redirects them to Shasa’s shoulders. “I’ll focus here,” she says. “You focus there.”

I give Shasa a fleeting glance and hesitate for the smallest moment. Angels, what am I doing? This girl is vicious. She attacked me, tried to take the tears, and is going to take Talon from me. But I can’t just let her die.

Where Jomeini’s hands remain their caramel color with no sign of magic, mine spark with turrets of electricity. I inhale, routing the energy into the teardrop, which heats so quickly beneath my shirt I lock my jaw to stifle a cry. I connect with the energy in the trees, the beams from the fading sun, even Dircey’s magic being used to power the van.

“What the vreck?” Dircey asks as the van swerves.

“Keep driving!” Ren orders.

Power surges. Jomeini’s fingernails dig into Shasa’s scalp at the same time mine claw into her clavicles.

“It’s working,” Solomus says beside me. “It’s working!”

Shasa’s veins begins to pulse. Once. Twice. A third time and her heart follows.

Her lids flutter before flying open, and she coughs, rolling to her side, gasping for air. Talon backs away, his head colliding with the van’s low ceiling. The bracelet slips from his hand, but he hurries to retrieve it, keeping it between his palms like a prayer.

Ren kicks back the trunk he was sitting on and takes the opening. He kneels and offers Shasa a hand.

“You left me,” she says, her voice breathy and frail. She attempts to sit up, giving Ren a somnolent look of defeat. Her limbs shake, and she falls back to Jomeini’s lap.

“He came for me,” says Jomeini, stroking Shasa’s hair. “He tried to get me to safety.”

Shasa coughs again. “You did?”

Ren tilts his head, opening his mouth as if to answer when Talon leans over her.

“Are you okay?” Talon asks. Between the crowd of people and the collection of trunks, with the addition of Solomus by Jomeini’s side, there isn’t room for him to do much other than touch her elbow.

“Who—where are we?”

“With Black Vault,” says Talon, taking her hand. “They’re friends of the Csilles.”

Shasa blinks, looking to Ren for answers.

“I’m one of their gatekeepers,” Ren says. “They were on their way out of town; we were just a convenient stop along the way.”

“I don’t leave my keepers behind,” Dircey adds from the front of the van.

Shasa’s hand reaches up toward her head and connects with Jomeini’s. “You—you’re okay.”

Jomeini smiles again, patting the other girl’s hand. “We both are.”

Jomeini and Shasa stare at one another with a relieved promise in their glances. Their faces are smeared with dirt; Shasa’s hair has fallen out from the buns it was tied into earlier while Jomeini’s clumps together. I hug my knees to my chest. Gwynn and I shared loyalty like this once. I blink away the dry burning at my eyes.

“Where’s Craven?” Shasa asks, attempting to sit up. Her hand still in Talon’s, he pulls her until she rests her head against his blood-smeared pant leg.

“Dead,” Talon says.

“It’s back, Shasa,” Jomeini adds with a smile, the first one I’ve seen her wear. “We’re free.”

Shasa stares at her hand and a spark alights on her fingertips, bringing a glow to her face that displays anew how pretty she is. “Oh,” she says with a gasp and a breath as though she can’t say anything else. “Oh my.”

“I know,” says Jomeini. “I’d forgotten what it was like.”

Shasa jerks, crumpling the other girl’s hands in her own. Then she strokes gentle fingers along Jomeini’s throat. “Your collar is gone. Who killed Craven?”

“Talon,” I say.

Slowly, Shasa turns her head in my direction. I stiffen under the heat of that glance, a hefty glare as though I should be punished just for speaking his name. I force myself to keep eye contact. Honestly, how can she not know I’ve been here with the others?

Jomeini shuffles forward, a hand on Shasa’s leg, stealing her attention back. Shasa breaks her glare and pulls the other girl into a tight hug. “I thought—”

The two embrace for several long moments. “You were gone for a short while,” says Jomeini.

Shasa’s eyes squeeze shut. “But I’m back, thanks to you.”

Jomeini pulls away and gives Shasa a soft smile. Then she points to me. “And Ambry. I couldn’t have done it without Ambry’s help.”

Shasa tucks in her upper lip. “What?”

“Ambry helped me bring you back.”

This time Shasa’s gaze sweeps right to me, settling into a glower as the realization sinks in. I wait, back stiff, wondering what she’ll say.

It’s quiet for way too long.

“Shasa?” Jomeini says.

“Hmm.” Shasa grunts, sinking back against Talon’s legs and folding her arms.

An uncomfortable silence bridges the space between. Ren’s brows lift and he captures my gaze, but I shake my head. The truth is, warmth spreads through my body, lightening me. I don’t need her gratitude. I’m just happy she’s no longer lying dead in Jomeini’s lap.

“On that note,” the wizard says from behind his granddaughter, “how did you manage it? It shouldn’t have been possible.”

The group waits for an answer, but I don’t know what to say. Talon mentioned something similar to me once, the night he kissed me. I used fire that night without knowing how, another magical trait only belonging to wizards. But I’m no wizard.

Thankfully, Jomeini speaks up. “It must have been the mix of magics. My elemental with her electrical.”

Talon and Ren both watch me, but I can’t tell them about the teardrop.

“Where are we going?” Shasa asks, drawing the conversation in another direction.

“Hyerton,” Dircey replies from behind the wheel.

I scan through logistics in my brain, forcing away other thoughts. I grope for a glimpse of a road sign among the fleeting trees and roadside debris. A lake shimmers in the distance, gleaming in the low, evening light, and the streetsign along the road lists mileage. Sure enough, we’re passing the south side of Scopuli Lake, heading back toward Hyerton, back toward home.

“Stop the van!” I cry.

Dircey slams on the breaks, causing a domino effect back here where the group of us clusters and smashes into one another. I fight my way over Ren’s legs, nearly tripping over the wizard as I reach for the back hatch’s handle. I tumble out, squinting at the purple-lit vehicles sheering past us on the thruway.

It’s true; Mt. Rhine and the edges of the Ramald Forest lie off to the northwest, in the opposite direction.

“What’s wrong?” Ren asks, landing on the asphalt beside me. The others offer curious stares from the van’s open back doors. Shasa mutters under her breath before pulling something from her pocket for the sole purpose of looking anywhere else but at me.

“I thought she was taking us back to where we were staying,” I say, squinting to get a better view.

Dircey hops out of the driver’s seat. “I told you we’d be moving on, little sister.” The white van behind us has stopped as well, people peering out from the windows. I recognize Ayso at the driver’s seat, her silver hair pulled into a braid down her shoulder. “Consider yourself fortunate we came for you.”

“Dircey, I am grateful, don’t get me wrong. But we can’t go to Hyerton with you.”

Talon and Shasa join us on the gravelly roadside. It seems the longer we go, the more strength Talon regains. Shasa leans against him, weak, but standing. Her hair is a frazzled mess, making her look like a heroine from a story.

“Feihrians are crossing the Arbor Mountains, and Tyrus will be marching on Mt. Rhine any day,” I explain. “We can’t run from this.”

“You don’t get it,” says Dircey in her sandpaper voice. A cap shields her long black-and-white streaked braid, the way she wore it the first time I met her. “We’ve always run from this. It’s what we do, how we’ve managed to survive. It’s not about a war and choosing sides, it’s about living, and this is how we make ours. Whether you’re coming or not, we’re leaving. Now.”

She stalks back to the van’s door.

“Ayso,” Ren calls to the other van. “Help us.”

Dircey wheels around, glaring at Ren. “What?”

Ren raises his hands. “I’m grateful for your help. We wouldn’t be alive right now if it wasn’t for you. But sooner or later you won’t have anywhere to run to. They got me, Dircey, who will it be next? And what if you have no warning that time, what if you don’t get away? This is about you too, don’t try to pretend it isn’t.”

“It has been all along,” I add, “otherwise, why would you keep running from place to place? You said you’ve been doing this for ten years.”

“You’re
not
in charge, Ren Csille. I am. And I say we’re going to Hyerton. Micro, Ayso, Zeke, let’s go!” She reaches in and grabs Ren’s pack, tossing it to the dirt at my feet.

Ayso exits her van, along with a few others from its back hatch. “This has never been a dictatorship, Dircey,” says the silver-haired girl. “And I agree with Ren on this one.”

Dircey’s mouth drops. She glares between Micro still waiting in the van, Shasa, Solomus and Jomeini, Talon at Shasa’s side, and the other gatekeepers now piling out.

“Unbelievable,” Dircey says. “Fine. Those who want to throw your lives away, stay. See if I care. But Micro and I are heading to Hyerton. If you’re coming, get your gear in my van and let’s move.”

A few filter through, including Scarlet. They carry their things to Dircey’s van, while Cadie and Zeke remove trunks and cart them to Ayso’s, parked behind Dircey’s. Ren bends for his pack, lacing his arms through to secure it to his back.

“And Csille? Don’t think you’ll earn my trust back this time,” she adds before slamming her door shut. The wheels ignite and the van peels out, wheels scraping into the dirt as they spin away.