The Secret: Irin Chronicles Book Three (37 page)

“Let them object,” Carmina said. “It is as Daina said. They have no standing.”

“What do you think they will do?” Sari said with a wry laugh. “Bar us from the Library? They could try.”

Daina said, “And they would fail.”

“And how do you feel about compulsion, Daina?” Carmina lifted her chin. “You have not spoken about it since we’ve been here.”

“I do not agree with compulsion,” Daina said. “Nor do I agree with those who would throw our singers into war. That has never been our role. You risk throwing artists and teachers and healers into a war that has torn most of their families apart. Are you prepared to truly hear what those sisters have to say? It might not match your plans.”

Sari said, “Some of those healers and artists have chosen different paths because of what happened during the Rending. Are you willing to stifle their desire to join this war?”

“Have they trained?” Daina asked. “Have they spent years in the scribe houses preparing for this as our mates have?”

Malachi leaned forward. “And what if there is a mission for which healers and teachers are the most qualified, Daina? What then?”

Diana cocked her head toward him. “I know of no such mandate. But I will be interested to hear you speak, Malachi of Sakarya.”

Malachi leaned back after giving her a respectful nod. Daina was not a singer who liked others to make assumptions about her, and she would keep her own council. She reminded Malachi a great deal of his mother. He had a feeling that revealing the secret of the
kareshta
was the key to investing the more moderate Irina in their battle against the Fallen. After all, would women lost in the human world need warriors or healers?

Glancing over his shoulder at his mate who watched everything with perceptive eyes, he was reminded of who she had been.
 

Hunted. Tormented. Lonely.

Malachi guessed that most of the
kareshta
were much like Ava had been.
 

Had she needed a warrior or a healer?

She’d needed both.

Chapter Twenty-two

SHE WALKED THROUGH THE FOREST AGAIN, her feet muffled by the dead leaves on the ground, the bare branches of the trees forming a canopy overhead. She could feel her mate at her side, but she did not hear him. She heard only the sound of her own footsteps on the path.

And his.

Her blood recognized his presence now. Her power tied to his.

“Not only mine now,” Jaron said.

“I know.”

“You’ve completed your bond with the scribe.”

“Yes.”

“Are you… happy?”

Ava stopped and turned to Jaron, not understanding the expression he wore. It was the most human he had ever looked. “I am. He makes me happy. I feel complete with him.”

Jaron nodded and continued walking. “I confess,” he said as he walked, “I did not understand your connection at first. When you mourned him, it made me curious.”

“Why? Don’t angels mourn?”

“No.” His hands were clasped easily behind his back. “I suppose some of us feel a sense of… longing for what we no longer have. That is a kind of mourning.”

She knew he was talking about heaven.

“Do you think the Creator longs for you?”

Jaron paused, as if the idea surprised him. “We are His servants. We long for His presence alone.”

“Even the Fallen?”

“Especially the Fallen. But longing, if frustrated for millennia, can easily turn to rage.”

She stepped in front of Jaron, no longer afraid. “Why did you fall?”

He cocked his head, his brilliant gold eyes glowing in the darkness. “We were greedy. We were looking for something more.”

“What?”

“Connection, I think. The love humans are capable of, it was foreign to us. And fascinating. We were seduced by it, only to find that it was not what we were created for.”

“What were you made for?”

“Service.”

He moved around her and continued walking in the moonless night. The light from the stars was the only thing illuminating the path.

“That seems harsh.”

Jaron turned. “It is not for either of us to question the Creator. We see only the weaving of the tapestry, not its completion.”

“So everything has a purpose? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

Jaron bent down, pressing her cheeks between palms that were warmer than Ava expected. She lifted her gaze and met ruthless eyes.
 

“What I have seen, what I have shown you, is only a shadow of His mind. That was my gift. My purpose. To experience glory and show those who were less. I was… an interpreter. No human can know His mind. You would go mad.”

“So I’m lesser than you?”

“Less and more, daughter. For you have been given the gift of free will, while I only experience the desire for what I have lost.” He released her and stepped back. “I have used you, Ava. And I will continue to do so.”

She drew in a shuddering breath. “And my grandmother? How is she?”

“Surviving.” Jaron paused. “That has been her life for too long.”

“If we kill Volund, will she heal?”

“I do not know. I only know she will be released.”

“And if you return to heaven like you want?”

She saw the corner of his mouth lift. “I knew you would see it eventually.”

“Is it possible?”

“I have seen it.”

“Sometimes I see things because I want them too much,” Ava said. “How do you know what is vision and what is real?”

“Why do you draw a line between them? One is the same as the other with enough will.” He turned. Looked at her. “And the power to make it so.”

“Oh God,” she breathed out, stopping in the pathway.

“That is one of His names.”

“That’s why Malachi came back. Is that what you’re saying?” She grabbed for his arm, stopping him from walking ahead. “Is that it? I dreamed it—I wanted it so much—that I made it real? Made my vision a reality?”

Jaron turned. “You are of my blood. And of Volund’s.”

“What does that mean?”

“Not even I can predict your power.” He leaned down and whispered, “Be careful what you dream.”

Her body was frozen. She felt her mate at her back as Jaron walked into the fog.

“How will this end?”

It slammed into her. The vision of the two eagles battling. Blood sprayed on her face as one fell, then the other, both pierced in the heart by the other’s talons. They fell, but they did not hit the ground. A giant sword rose into the sky, its black shadow clawing the heavens with the teeth of a great beast. And when it pierced their breasts, the eagles turned into giants, and the darkness swallowed them whole.

AVA was still thinking about the vision the next day while she waited for Malachi to return from settling Kostas’s men. She was making an effort to think of them as Kostas’s men and not Grigori. The instinctive aversion was too strong, and she didn’t want to offend Kyra, who was waiting with her.

The
kareshta
was nervous. She’d gone to Prague with the others to settle her sisters into Astrid and Karen’s care, had spent some time with Orsala, forming a rudimentary shield over her mind, but she still looked incredibly ill at ease in Vienna. The vulnerability made her otherworldly features somehow more human.

“Kostas and Sirius should be back soon,” Ava said.

She nodded. “I worry about them.”

“Malachi says that as long as they cover up and don’t look too pretty, they should be all right. Their scent is completely gone.”

“Good.” She tapped her fingers and looked over her shoulder to where Rhys and Leo were trying very hard not to look at the stunning woman. Kyra had masses of long hair, a rich chestnut color streaked with darker shades of brown. Her skin was olive—a legacy from her human mother, who had been Greek—and her eyes were thick-lashed and gold. Ava felt small and plain beside her, and she could understand why Leo and Rhys had a hard time keeping their eyes to themselves.

She gave them a furious look and they went back to studying their books. “Sorry about them.”

Kyra shook her head. Forced a smile. “It’s fine. I’m sure I’m strange to their eyes.”

“Oh, no. That’s not it. You’re just really, really gorgeous and—as old as these guys are—they’re still getting used to being around girls.”

Her eyes widened. “But… the Irina.”

“Most that survived the Rending have been out of the public eye for two hundred years or so. If a scribe wasn’t already mated, they weren’t really welcome in the havens. So… most of these guys haven’t seen a nonhuman girl in about two hundred years. Some of the younger scribes who were children during the Rending haven’t
ever
seen one.”

“Oh.” If anything, that seemed to make her even more nervous. “That might explain the looks.”

“Yeah, they can’t really touch human women, so”—she leaned closer and whispered—“there are a lot of frustrated scribes out there.”

Kyra blushed.

“I try to find the humor in the situation, even though it’s not really funny.”

“No.” Kyra choked out the word. “It’s not.”

“You too, huh?”

Kyra looked around the library. “Is this appropriate to speak of?”

“Girl talk. Do I need to get some wine?”

Kyra shook her head. “That would not be advisable. I have no experience…” She cleared her throat. “Most
kareshta
are more attuned to the human world. Many have had relationships with human men, because of course, they thought—or continue to think—they are human.”

“Like me.”

“Yes.” Kyra nodded, more comfortable now. “I do not have as much experience being out of… our version of havens. Because of my brother. And of course, most of his men are also Barak’s children, so—”

“Oh my gosh, so you’ve been surrounded by like a thousand superprotective big brothers your whole life?”

She frowned. “A thousand would be hyperbole. But many half brothers, yes. Though I am older than most of them.”

“That would pretty much kill any hope of a social life, huh?”

Kyra smiled and laughed a little. Rhys and Leo’s eyes flew back to her.
 

Ava pointed at them. “Books. Now. Or I’ll take her away.”

They both averted their eyes, but she could see them sneaking glances.

“No,” Kyra said. “No social life at all. Of course, hearing voices also dampens any urge I’ve ever had to be with a human.”

“Yeah, I remember that part.”

Kyra still carried the visible anxiety that Ava remembered so well. Her fingers tapped the arm of the chair and she was fidgeting madly, her foot tapping, her body shifting. Ava realized that though she was learning to shield her mind, the
kareshta
still felt the overwhelming excess of energy she channeled from the human souls in Vienna. Irina did too, but with more developed magic and regular contact with males of their own race, it was manageable.

For Kyra, who’d lived her life in purposefully isolated locations, the crowd of a city must have been a nerve-racking experience. And her brother, whose affectionate contact would help her manage her energy, had been gone for hours.

Going with her instincts, Ava glanced at Leo, then at Rhys. “Kyra?”

“Hmm?” The
kereshta
been distracted, looking out the window.
 

“Will you trust me on something?”

“About what?”

She leaned forward and grasped the other woman’s hand, releasing a burst of static electricity.
 

“Sorry,” Ava whispered. “I know how you feel.”

Kara’s body grew deliberately still. “Do you?”

Ava nodded. “All these people. And you can still feel them.”

“I am practicing the technique Orsala taught me, but being in the city is… difficult. Even here, where minds are more guarded and voices are softer, I hear things. There are just so many.”

 
“And you’re around new people, which makes you nervous anyway. Has the headache started?”

The slight tension between her eyes told Ava the truth even before Kyra nodded.
 

“I want to try something. Will you trust me that I would never do something that would make you more uncomfortable unless I thought it would help?”

Kyra was hesitant, but eventually she nodded.

“Hey, Leo?” Ava called.

The giant scribe was at her side in an instant. “Did you need something, Ava?”

Ava wrapped her arms around his middle, giving him a solid hug. Leo smiled and bent down, wrapping his arms around her and touching his lips to her forehead.
 

“I missed you,” he said. “Malachi has been keeping you to himself since you arrived in the city.”

Kyra’s eyes widened, so Ava was quick to explain.

“Leo’s a friend. When I lost my mate”—she squeezed him again—“he and Malachi’s other brothers kept me sane.”