Dawn of Ash (16 page)

The brainwashed herd wandered around as if the world on the other side of the barrier wasn’t trying to kill them, as if they had forgotten why the light was red and the air was hot. There was more laughter than training, more joy than fear. It was a stark contrast to what little I had seen of Edmund’s camp.

It was kind of exciting to see how ill prepared they were, how secure they were in the delusions I had been force-feeding them for so long.

The attack won’t come until spring.

The barrier will fall months before the danger finds us.

The lies made me smile, the wide grin catching the eye of a few members of the tittering horde who were wandering meaninglessly through the courtyard.

“Sain,” a Skȓítek I had met several hundred years before called to me from across the large, stone square. He was one who had always stood and fought by Ilyan’s side. If I remembered correctly, his mate had perished in one of the innumerable battles Ilyan had led them into many hundreds of years ago.

Now his eyes were dark with questions and doubt.

It was beautiful to see.

Several others perked up at the boom in his voice, their own questions buzzing through their heads as they, too, made their way over, and I waited for them. Part of me knew I needed to get the bathroom in order to check that I held no incriminating evidence on my body of where I had been, while another part was grateful I had been stopped—at least they could provide some sort of an alibi if Ilyan found me before I found Joclyn.

“Yes?” I questioned as they grew closer, the soothing nature of my voice completely contradictory to the thunder of anxiety that had taken over my insides. The tall man’s eyes darted toward a few of the people who surrounded him in waning confidence.

“We are sorry to bother you…” he began before stalling out.

“It’s no bother,” I assured him, stretching my hand out to rest on his shoulder, noticing a small patch of dirt near my thumb. Perfect. “I was seeing to some of the children in the ward.” The group seemed awed by the lie, their worry softening as the doubt began to fade. “What can I help you with?”

“We were wondering if you could tell us what happened to the queen this morning … if she saw a sight, if we are safe here.”

Of course they weren’t safe here. No one was.

I tried not to bristle at his question, but I was sure it showed.

Wiping my hand off on the leg of my faded dress pants, I turned my face down into a frown. “She did see into the future, but there is no way to know if that sight is true.”

“What do you mean?” the man asked, his face wide in horror. “I thought the sight of a Drak is infallible.”

I sighed heavily, the exaggerated sound seeping from me as I ran my hand over my forehead. “It is when the magic is pure. Hers is not pure. It is uncontrollable at the moment. Her sights are dwelling in the depth of the Zlomený.”

They began whispering, the word known to a few of them. Even if they didn’t understand its true meaning, they still understood the impact. Even the ones who didn’t understand could grasp the fear around them, their eyes wide as they looked to their peers for answers.

“So everything she sees—”

“Broken, yes,” I clarified. The looks of shock and fear deepened with each lie I spoon-fed them.

“But yours…?”

“I am of the first, and I can fight the Zlomený better than any of my kind, but it is still hard. Because of her foolish choices, everything is muddled.” I wasn’t even going to give the older woman a chance to say anything more. I didn’t want anything other than what I gave them put in their heads. “I hold the Drak magic deep within me, and I will do everything in my power to restore true sight, stop Joclyn from this tirade, and save us all.”

Calm, relief, and awe washed over all of them. The fear slowly dissipated at the knowledge, their own minds putting the pieces together that I wanted them to. After all, who would want someone with a broken sight leading them when pure magic stood right there?

“So we are safe?” a young Chosen asked, the look on her face making it clear she didn’t fully understand what was happening.

“For the time,” I answered, my hand heavy as I placed it on her arm. “Do not worry; I am watching.”

I smiled, waving away any further questions as I walked from my captive audience, my eyes scanning the courtyard for my daughter, despite knowing she wouldn’t be here—I hadn’t heard her yell at me, in any case. Hopefully, I still had time to find her.

In a few steps, I moved into the vast marble and stone hallway that led toward the catacombs, leaving the still tittering crowd behind me. This space was familiar, one I had helped build, one I had been worshiped within, and one I had run through a few months before with Wyn. I walked down it now with an ever deeper sense of urgency than I’d had then, my pace quick.

In the beginning, it had held long kitchens with ovens similar to those at Rioseco. However, somewhere around the early twentieth century, bathrooms had been added with running water, flushing toilets, and all. Thankfully, the ceramic palace was as empty as the hall outside, the wide room already filling with the echoes of the ambient noises my very presence was causing.

Locking the door with a snap, I ran past the wide basin sinks to the mirrors, the glass old and rusted out near the corners. Some were harder to see through than others, but it didn’t matter.

I didn’t need to see much other than if there was more than the dirt I had already found.

Blood, snow, grime.

Some sign that I had been on the outside.

“What did I bring back with me this time?” I queried, peering through the specks of red and brown that littered the mirrored surface.

Luckily, thanks to the heated air I was currently surrounded by, the snow had long since melted from my hair, and all that remained was a slightly soggy hem around my dark, frayed pants. That could be taken care of without much effort.

With one small spark of perfectly placed magic, the damp cloth dried with a small tuft of smoke, the smell of slightly singed cotton mixing with the smell of borax soap in an oddly enjoyable bouquet.

“Beautiful,” I sighed, my eyes closing against the lingering scent of clean death. The fragrance was lovely, and I was tempted to let it grow, to let it flow over me like a cologne, but I was sure that would give me away. The smoke, the death.

The burn.

It was unfortunate I couldn’t. I was sure Joclyn would catch on too quickly.

“Joclyn, foolish girl, where are you?” I growled at the thought, my heart tensing painfully in impatience. I needed to move.

I had seen a few people gathered before the cathedral when I was on the other side of the barrier, preparing to return. I thought I had a good idea who it was, but even if I was wrong, it was a good place to start.

With one last check in the mirror, I tore from the bathroom, pushing my magic into my heart as I moved. Teeth clenched, heart pounding, I fought the need to yell, the familiar pain ripping through me like someone was trying to tear me in two. I growled, anxious for the agony to end yet also needing to restrain the power, to hide it away where Joclyn couldn’t sense it, couldn’t sense me. I didn’t need her to feel, to understand, the true power she held. I didn’t need her knowing for sure that it was me hiding underneath that cloak.

Peeking in doorways and hallways, I moved through the complex at a sprint, growing more and more eager to find her with each slap of my shoes against stone, the sound loud, like the ticking of a clock. It was agitating, something I was sure showed on my face judging by the way everyone I passed was looking at me.

My anxiety had grown into a panic when I turned the final corner to find Joclyn and Risha huddled together on the other side of the long corridor. Joclyn was leaning against Risha heavily, her body sagging so deeply I was sure she couldn’t walk very well on her own. My heart rate sped up at seeing her so impaired, but not for the fear or anxiety I had felt up to this point.

Yes, she was my daughter, and deep down, I wanted to say part of me really, truly cared for her in that way, cared for her as I cared for Dramin. As a father should. But, I didn’t.

She was nothing more than a liability to me, a liability I needed to keep under control. I had to keep
her
under control until Edmund disposed of her. Her and her stubborn, little head seemed to think her magic was
telling
her to break rules the Draks were raised to obey, every rule the Skȓíteks and Trpaslíks were taught to fear.

I was sure her magic
was
actually telling her all those things because what she was saying was actually true, which was why controlling her was so necessary. Discredit the queen and my step to the thrown was that much closer.

“Joclyn!” I yelled from the end of the hall, my voice terrified, even though the beat of my heart said otherwise.

Risha looked up as I yelled, relief washing over her as she held Joclyn close to her. “Oh, Sain, thank all.”

“What happened?” I yelled as I continued to move closer. “Is she okay?”

Joclyn looked up moments after Risha did, but where Risha’s expression was one of relief, Joclyn’s was one of anger and frustration. Her silver eyes flashed, her jaw tightening as she bit the inside of her mouth, something I was sure Ilyan found endearing. To me, however, the lack of self-restraint and poorly handled mortal outbursts angered me more. She was a Drak, and she needed to act like one.

“Joclyn?” I asked, trying to conceal the loathing that looking at her gave me. “Are you okay?”

“Where were you?” Her response was a snap that rebounded across the stone to me.

I knew what she was referring to and did my best to make it seem as if I was as clueless as she was to the world.

“Where was I? What are you…?” I reached my hand out to her, desperate for the skin contact I needed in order to check her magic, to regain control of her sight and know what she had seen.

She flinched away from me, and my stomach wound together.

I had obviously misread exactly how weak she was, exactly how much sight she had regained. I couldn’t be sure without touching her, but if I had to guess, considering the look on her face, the thin layer of sweat rolling down her pale skin, I would say she had seen something.

Something more than I had been force-feeding her.

Something real.

“You look terrible, Jos. Did you see something?” I swallowed, trying to stifle the panic that rose up in me as I reached toward her again, anxious for contact.

“Where were you?” she snapped again, the pale red of her anger coloring the ash white of her face.

I fought the smile that little detail gave me. She was getting angry, and I knew as well as anyone how volatile her emotions were. Combine that with the instability of her sight, and it would take very little to plunge her back into another vision. It was something that, given her power, would be dangerous, but not now, not with me here. It might be what I needed in order to gain contact. To control her.

Angering her was risky, but it might be my only chance to regain control of her sights. I had to chance it. Good thing I had already mastered this game.

“Where was I when?” I looked to Risha in question, pushing as much innocence into my voice as I could, knowing it would aggravate Joclyn more.

“Before,” Joclyn growled.

“Risha, what is she talking about?” I asked, but Risha looked just as confused as I did, her bottle green eyes darting between Joclyn and me so quickly they looked like a blur.

“An hour ago, a few minutes ago.” Joclyn stopped for breath. “All this morning? Where were you?”

My daughter emphasized each syllable, yet I wasn’t sure if it was in anger or in exhaustion. It very easily could have been either.

“I was here…” I spoke slowly, condescendingly, hoping to increase her anger, knowing I was close. I could already feel the strong light-headedness that usually preceded a sight. I could already feel the heavy power of her Drak magic trying to join and fuel my own. “I was helping some of the new Chosen children understand what the future held for them.”

She knew I was lying. Risha probably did, too, but Risha was more concerned with what was happening to Joclyn at that moment to care about whatever lie I had sprouted.

So was I; except, my concern and help came in a different packaging.

Joclyn exhaled in a low, painful moan, her eyes snapping shut in an excruciating grimace, to open again with the bright ember glow of sight, her eyes dark and deep, the contrast stunning against the blank canvas of her face as she saw into past and future simultaneously. It was beautiful to watch her magic work the way it was intended. Nevertheless, it was a beauty I would not allow.

Not even with her.

Especially not with her.

I didn’t even care if Risha noticed the smile spreading over my lips. I let the grin grow at the orange glow in her eyes, the anger in my gut howling in success as I reached my hand forward and wrapped it around her wrist. My magic plunged into her as my sight connected with hers, as my magic connected with her soul.

It was easy to do as long as I was connected to her. She was my child, after all.

The snow-filled world outside the wall blossomed in recall. The dead corn fields, the barren trees, they all stretched before me as the bitter wind tugged at the two figures huddled in the middle of the wasteland, a small army of guards surrounding them.

I recognized the moment. Ovailia standing before me, my tall frame shrouded in the black cloak I had been haunting Joclyn with.

This was more than a sight, more than recognition; it was remembering.

I had stood before Ovailia hours before and felt the power of prescience, but not in the way that I was the one who saw, rather in the way that sight was being taken from me. And now I understood why.

It had been.

Joclyn’s sight had taken her right to us.

Joclyn had pulled true sight from me.

She had tapped into a sight I had so carefully concealed I was sure no one would ever find it.

Yet, she had.