Eversworn: Daughters of Askara, Book 3 (3 page)

Magic built in my hands, too hot and too dangerous to be mine. I glanced at my side, where I’d tucked the invisible grimoire. Its anticipation made my spine tingle. Sensing Lindsay’s approach, it yawned into wakefulness, lending me its power, eager for me to make use of it, desperate to exact its price if I did.

“No,” I whispered to it. “She is no danger to me, or to you.”

She laughed. “Who are you talking to over there behind the bushes?”

“No one, I just—” I pleaded with her, but she kept coming. “Wait there.”

The book all but purred, urging my fingers to uncurl. I made a fist instead and quashed the power fizzling from my fingertips. Eyes closed, I took a deep breath and pitted my will against the grimoire’s. Our silent battle lasted only seconds. Thrumming with annoyance, the book conceded the point, leaving me sweaty and shaking. The sooner we left the consulate the better.

“Oh. You could have said you were gardening.” Her brow creased as she inspected my work. “Are you sure you should be planting?” She eyed the hole then me. “You’re not sore?”

“I am somewhat tender.” I wiped sweaty palms. “Would you brew some chamomile tea?”

She brightened. “I will do my best.” In her eagerness to please, she left without a fuss.

Pain from unspent spell craft crippled me. I hunched forward, bracing my palms on the dirt, creating a circuit to diffuse the magical static clinging to my hands. Nearby flowers plumped, blossoms unfurled and vines withered. Petals fell. Scorched earth filled my nose, and I sneezed.

Dangerous to have awakened my grimoire before having the strength to control it, but my other choice was leaving it entombed until circumstance allowed for its retrieval or its discovery by someone else. I shivered. The book was all I had left from my mother, so it stayed with me.

No matter how I wished it otherwise.

A slight breeze ruffled my hair as movement teased the edge of my vision. Extending my senses, I detected no threat. Yet I couldn’t trust myself after Roland’s admission. He may be out there. Watching. Chills danced across my skin. With deliberation, I filled the hole so no turned ankles came from my carelessness. Then I gathered my supplies and clutched the eager book to my chest. Once I reached the door, I spun to face the garden. “I leave for the colony at nightfall.”

No one answered. For a moment, I blamed my unease on an overactive imagination.

“You have one week,” Roland’s voice sighed on the wind. “I’ll see you in Sere.”

I nodded and entered the consulate for the last time.

“The tea is steeping.” Lindsay met me at the door. “Care to join me in the kitchen?”

“I’m not sure I should.” I touched my cheek for effect. “I think I’ve overexerted myself.”

“Oh.”

Her disappointment softened my resolve. This may well be our last evening together. I would miss her, worry for her, after I’d gone. She was such a gentle soul, trapped in stalwart wrapping. Trailing her into the kitchen, I sat at the table and balanced the grimoire across my lap, where it settled atop my thighs with eerie contentment. “Is there anything you need before I go?”

I’d learned long ago to plant my lies with seeds of truth. I made no secret of my travel arrangements or who I intended to visit. My excuse for venturing into the colony was a long-overdue checkup on my patient, now my target, aided by the timely arrival of the colony courier.

Mason was a regular fixture at the consulate as he carried messages between Emma and Harper. Now he carried a message of intent from me to Dillon. I hoped its arrival was well met.

Several days should pass before Lindsay raised concerns about my absence, assuming my theft didn’t stir the colonists to raid the consulate first. As if I was foolish enough to return here.

I would never endanger our boarders.

“I don’t think so.” Lindsay served me tea without incident. My smile of encouragement made her beam. “You’ll only be gone for a couple of days. I can manage the house until you return.” She glowed with confidence I ached to witness. “I can do this. All will be as it should.”

I patted her hand. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Her tasks were simple. Feed the boarders and turn aside all but the most urgent business. Going to market was a simple matter if she had cause to venture into the city, and she had authorization for purchasing supplies on the consulate’s tab. Nothing pressing was left for her to manage. She only had to await Emma. I’d done all I could. I had to believe it would be enough.

Lindsay appraised me. “Can I ask you something?”

Dragged from my concerns, I murmured, “Of course.”

She poured herself some tea and toyed with the cup in her hands, careful not to crush the porcelain. “Does this trip have anything to do with what happened at the market this morning?”

Her perception surprised me. For all that I hated when others underestimated her, here I was guilty of it myself. Seeking refuge behind my cup, I sipped and considered my response. “In a way, it does.” More than she would ever learn, I hoped. “I’d like a couple of days away from the city to settle my nerves. City living is fine, but tiresome. I’d like fresh air I don’t have to share.”

She gave a sympathetic nod, and I relaxed.

“You can’t get much farther from the city than where you’re going.” She inclined her head. “But are you sure that’s not an excuse? Or is there another reason you’d like to visit the colony?”

My cup slipped through damp fingers. “Why would you ask that?”

“You haven’t so much as spoken Dillon’s name since he left, not until today.” Her smile faded as she leaned closer, and her tone turned confiding. “You had a good scare earlier and…”

I laughed. “You think I’m running to him for comfort?”

“He isn’t an agreeable male.” She said so often, yet my opinion of him remained unchanged. “His manners are lacking and his company is unpleasant, but he seems to like you well enough.”

“He tolerates me,” I said softly, “and only because of his leg.”

Emma had once asked me to do her a favor by distracting Dillon with my company for an afternoon, and I had leapt at the chance. Much to my dismay, he saw through my charade and, if not for his leg, would have likely never spoken to me again. As it was, we honored a tentative truce borne of necessity, and while he was here, under my care, impropriety had mattered to me.

She frowned at my silence. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You’re fine,” I assured her. “The circumstances of our meetings are always…difficult. I don’t think we’ve seen him at his best.” Or perhaps I managed to always bring out his worst. I winced. As with Emma, his opinion couldn’t matter to me. He had no place in my life or I in his.

Lindsay nodded, no doubt placating me. “Perhaps you’re right.”

The topic of Dillon tired me, and I didn’t have to pretend my yawn.

“You should rest,” she advised. “The journey to the colony is tiresome.”

“Thank you for my tea, and your company, but I think you’re right.” I stood. “I should rest.”

Careful of my awkward hold on the grimoire, I climbed the stairs to my room. Clutching the doorknob, I stopped mid-twist and glanced over my shoulder. Across from me, an empty room’s door stood open. My slow steps retraced the familiar path, and I hovered over the threshold as I had so many times before, when Dillon lay in bed and suffered at my hands in order to be healed.

Drawn inside, I sat on a stool pulled next to the bed and stared at the pillow, seeing a tousled head of chestnut hair, remembering how I’d monitored the slow rising of his chest while he slept.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” His voice was a thready whisper strung with pain.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you…” Heat burned my cheeks at having been caught here, again.

“I can’t sleep.” Dillon turned his head. Even that small movement made him grunt. “I try, but…it hurts too damn bad.” His chuckle strained. “Don’t give me that look. I hate popping pills, and the pain keeps me honest. If you’re hanging around, the least you could do is entertain me.”

“How about we compromise? You drink one cup of medicinal tea and I’ll read you one story from the book of your choosing.” I waited for his agreement, but stubborn male that he was, he shook his head. “Dillon, please.”

“I can’t.” He exhaled, sounding tired and hurt. “Go on. I won’t ask you to stay.”

“Do you really think not seeing you suffer lessens the pain it causes me to know I did this to you?” I shoved unruly hairs from his forehead. “I never would have operated if I’d known you’d refuse pain medication. I don’t know how you bore it during…and after… Please, let me help.”

“Okay.” He glanced at me. “Read me that story. Get my mind off things. That would help.”

Biting my tongue because we’d had this argument daily for the past week, I went to the shelf and let him choose a title from among the books I’d brought from my room. Our shared interests delighted me. I hoped, one day, once he’d recovered, he might visit and we could discuss them.

Reclaiming my seat on the stool, I settled the book across my lap and began reading.

He interrupted to comment, “It has pictures, doesn’t it? Gobillard loves his illustrations.”

“I—yes, it does—he does.” The book was heavy, awkward to lift, but I managed.

“I can’t make out a thing at this angle.” He groaned, shifting closer to me. “That’s better.”

I froze, the weight of the book making my hands tremble. When I glanced down, my cheek pressed against his forehead. Rather than the book, he faced me. His head rested on my shoulder and his nose pressed against my neck. His breath heated my throat, which constricted at that faint touch.

“What are you doing?” Why had I whispered?

“Shh.” His lips brushed my skin. “Just read.”

And I had, until he fell into his first uneven sleep in days.

Blinking the present into bleary focus, I rose on unsteady legs and returned to my room. Shutting the door behind me, I set the tome on a low table. Its displeasure at being parted from me was a stinging prickle across my nape. I would have to bind its magic, and soon. With that in mind, I crossed the room and slid a slim dagger I used for opening letters into one of my pockets.

Surveying the rest of the space, I decided all was as it should be. Clothes hung in my closet and were folded in each of my drawers. I’d left no gaps in either, despite necessities I’d packed.

Books were stacked on every level surface, and I balled my fists to keep from packing those I valued most, those with sentimental attachment, those that had come from Emma. Their loss stirred bone-deep remorse, but I’d absorbed their knowledge and would find comfort between the pages of new tomes once this bargain with Roland was met. If only friends were so replaceable.

Blinking back hot tears I had no right to shed, I checked the one bag I had allowed myself. Herbs and my implements were of the utmost importance. The bag bulged with those. With a hand at my neck, I smoothed a thumb across the battered locket and my material woes vanished.

This place held echoes of a life no longer mine. It was time for me to leave.

After hours of trudging through ankle-deep sand, Dillon’s first step onto the spell-crafted road leading into the Feriana colony was a relief. His right leg quivered from walking the property line. His left, well, he glanced down as wind blew his pant leg against the skeletal limb.

The absence of familiar contours made his gut clench.
It doesn’t matter
. His head shot up so fast his eyes spun.
I’ve got no one to impress
. Glamour could make him appear whole, but even a tangible illusion wouldn’t cover his limp, grant him a respite or boost his compromised mobility.

His gaze cut from left to right. With a grunt, he lowered himself onto the ground. Relief rolled his eyes shut, the absence of pain euphoric. Tremors caused his leg to spasm, but without his weight stretching the wasted muscle, the twitches slowed and a familiar dull throb took up residence behind his leg. He exhaled through the worst of the ebbing pain. This he could handle.

Chill air rustled his hair and smudged his uneven footprints until his sense of direction blurred. Only the tents at his back anchored him in the vast darkness of nighttime in the desert.

Dust swirled in a reminder he hadn’t been bluffing when he warned the new recruits about sandstorms. Askaran winters were harsh. The bite in the air and the stirring breeze were all signs of impending chaos, but he ignored them. Even knowing a storm was brewing, he was too damn tired to move out of its way. Guess Harper was right. Dillon wasn’t fit enough to handle patrol yet.

More wind, stronger this time, made his eyes shut against the swirling debris. When he opened them, he blinked a couple of times as moonlight glinted across the dunes. Miles of cursed sand glittered like stardust. Lip curling, he growled at the sentiment. He didn’t like open desert.

Even now, while he admitted this view was nice,
like
still wasn’t the right word. No one
liked
reminders of crossing those same dunes, hell-bent on reaching the gateway between realms, wishing like hell a sand trap would swallow them whole just so the pain stopped. But it never had. Memories from his enslavement scrubbed his thoughts raw. Drawing his glamour closer, Dillon exhaled through the tightness in his throat and unfastened the top few buttons of his shirt.