Chapter 20

Chapter

Twenty

TRESSYA

From the balcony, I observed Tamas, his solitary shadow, a long tower beside him, as he paced the winding paths through the manicured garden. Already the flowers in their garden beds were closing their petals as the sun slipped lower upon the horizon.

Shunning everyone, he'd disappeared outside and had yet to return, instead choosing the flowers as friends.

I lingered on the balcony for as long as he roamed the grounds below, watching him pace with a heaviness in his stride. His usual agility and grace had vanished, his strides now labored, as though burdened with an invisible weight that trailed behind him.

The pernicious anchor of dread coiled around me like a rope, dragging me into the depths until my breaths turned shallow and my lungs refused to fill .

Watching him was an intoxicating blend of arousal and pain. My desire and distrust for him were enmeshed that I saw no clear path to separate the two. Had I followed my heart, I would never have let him leave. Instead, I would have held him close, compelling him to meet my gaze, searching for the assurance that he was truly free from the Salmun's magic. Yet, I let him go, opting to observe him from a distance, while a shadowy gloom loomed ominously behind me.

Perhaps I would forever remain scarred by the plague of my conflicting emotions.

It appeared the apostles had triumphed. They were, just now, in the kitchen, downing their weight in ale and congratulating themselves on their success, even though I had caught Wellard casting Tamas a sideways glance as if questioning the truth of their assumption.

To me, Tamas remained the untamed beast I yearned to own, as beautiful as he was powerful, as captivating as he was dangerous. On the surface, he appeared unchanged from the day he emerged from the Ashenlands, but what lay beneath what the eyes could see? His aimless pacing spoke of his inner turmoil.

I pressed my hand against the pocket of my breeches, fearing that his troubled mind stemmed from what I had taken from him—the parchment—that his focus, now he was healthy, remained fixed on one outcome, as should be mine.

Earlier, when I had unfolded the blank pages, I discovered they remained blank. Why were they hiding their secrets from me, the heir? I refolded them and slipped them back into my pocket, hoping that with more time and focus, I could unlock their hidden secrets.

The Salmun would hunt us down soon enough, and we were still no closer to discovering the resting place of the Etherweave. Now that Tamas had recovered, deciphering the mysterious pages and finding the great power should be our primary focus. We needed to begin our journey to the Etherweave as soon as possible.

The gentle scent of daisies carried on warm winds reached me before Gusselan came out onto the balcony. She stood beside me, following my line of sight.

"You're worried about him."

"This is unlike him."

"You know him that well?" There was a teasing lilt in her voice.

She was right. All I knew about Tamas was derived from my fictitious dreams. We'd spent little time together and shared only a handful of truths about ourselves. My heart had filled in the gaps in my knowledge, transforming him into a hero. And that could be far from the truth.

Gusselan remained silent, her eyes tracking his movements through the garden. "There's no telling what lingering effects remain. We understand so little about the depths of the Salmun's magic, and the apostles are…" She paused, turning to me as if the significance of her words had just dawned on her. "At least he's walking." Her attempt at consolation did little to ease my nagging worry.

"Perhaps I should've allowed Bryra to take him north to his witch."

"You might never have seen him again. "

It was impossible, and not because I believed he was here for me. I had retrieved the parchment from his jacket before Bryra brought him here because I feared losing them, but also because I wasn't entirely sure I could trust Tamas's motives.

"He's still here."

"And you question if that's because he still doesn't have what he wants."

I turned from Tamas and his pacing and rested back against the railing. "Yes."

I pulled the parchment from the oversized breeches Bryra had stolen for me and held them up for Gusselan to see. "He's missing one vital piece of information."

"Stolen from the heart of Emberforge," Gusselan spoke, her voice carrying a whisper of awe.

"The very place."

"You know the Salmun will come for you."

"As will the Mother. I'm not sure who will reach us first, but we have to leave here as soon as possible. If only Tamas would stop his pacing and Bryra would return."

"You wish to continue on with the Huungardred?"

"We need as many powerful friends as we can gather against the Salmun, and Bryra has proved her worth."

"Very well, but don't tell me where you intend to go."

"You're not coming with us?"

"I have no desire to run. I'm too old for such things."

"They won't spare you."

"That's why I prefer not to know your destination. If I'm ignorant of the truth, they can't extract it from me."

"Gusselan. You can't expect me to?— "

"You'll respect my wishes." She took my hands. "Without my sons... I've already lived my life, and now I'm free of Emberfell and the Salmun, I no longer care of my fate." Her grip tightened. "But you must promise me this. Return Andriet to his final resting place." She held up a hand to silence any protest I may make. "You must do this, no matter how much it pains you."

"Tell me why."

She released my hands and turned back to the railing, gripping them tight as she spoke. "It's a lengthy story that begins with remnants inscribed on now-broken tablets. The language is ancient and challenging to translate, and since only partial fragments were found, the full narrative remains uncertain."

"It was before the great war?"

"Perhaps millennia before. No one truly knows, but it's incredibly ancient. When I arrived in Tolum, I realized that little of what was uncovered in the fragments had crossed the sea to the near realm. It seems the people of Tarragona are largely unaware of the legend."

"What did you learn?"

"The realms weren't governed as they are today. There were only two distinct powers of influence. One held sway over the distant realms, where my home lies now. The other ruled from what we currently call Tolum.

"Those who painstakingly transcribed the fragments found no mention of the names given to the two distinct powers that ruled millennia ago. However, they were later labeled the Divines for those who ruled the far realms and the Ancients for those in the near realms. "

"I've heard of the ancients. It's a name the spirits in the Ashenlands knew."

"Perhaps a millennium ago, the legends were more widespread."

"What does this have to do with Andriet?"

"There is scant information on what transpired between the Divines and the Ancients. The fragments are patchy. But at one point, it seems they were at war. There was brief mention of the Etherweave, and some believe it was created by the Ancients, but the important fragments detailing this part of the narrative were found crushed.

"How and why they created the Etherweave, we'll never know. It's not important."

"But they had something to do with the spirits and the dividing veil?" I said.

Gusselan sighed, arched her head to stretch her neck, then settled her gaze on me. "Through some powerful magic, possibly involving the Etherweave, the Ancients were defeated. However, we will never know for certain. It seems the Ancients—and perhaps the Divines, though we have no fragments to prove it—were trapped behind the veil that separates the living from the dead.

"It is now believed that disturbing the delicate balance separating the living from the dead would weaken the bonds that keep the Ancients—and possibly the Divines—caged. That is why you must return Andriet and promise never to bring the dead across the veil again. For every day Andriet roams free is a tear in the balance and the veil, which may release both powerful factions once again."

I turned to face her. "But you don't know that. "

Gusselan rubbed at her temple. "That's what my order believed." As if that was the sole truth.

"You don't even know if they were bad."

"Power is corrupting. That's a truth not even you can argue against."

"You're right, but it doesn't make anything you believe about the two factions true." I shrugged. "You're speculating on a fate that might not even be true."

"And you're arguing against everything I've said because you don't want to do as I ask." Her voice rose.

I pushed off the railing where I'd been leaning. "He tried to help us the day we escaped Emberforge. He tried to distract the Salmun and give us time to reach the rampart." Gusselan's stare remained deadpan. "His final resting place is the Ashenlands. He's your son. Can you bear that thought?"

"What about Juel? He is left to befriend the wild pigs and bees."

I covered my face with my palms as I turned away from her, aware that her piercing, discerning gaze would reveal how little I cared about Juel's suffering.

"Andriet will be welcomed amongst the many hundreds of spirits that lost their lives when the Salmun created the Ashenlands," Gusselan said.

I sagged against the railing, feeling unable to support the weight of this decision. "I'm not sure I'm strong enough to say goodbye."

"You must be ready. You may no longer be a disciple, but you understand what duty means. You have a responsibility to the people of Tarragona, and possibly to all who inhabit the seven realms. Are you prepared to accept the consequences if you release both factions back into the seven realms?"

I pushed off and paced away, needing space from the intensity of her argument. Even Gusselan admitted to only knowing a fragment of the story. It could be there was nothing in this at all, and I would be spared the pain of sending Andriet to his death place. But what if she was right? Was I prepared to ignore that possibility?

"Nothing good can ever come of disturbing the balance of the natural order. If the veil breaks, perhaps it will release more than just power."

I gazed over the balcony, finding no solace in watching Tamas's relentless pacing. He, like me, seemed to wrestle with decisions he found difficult to confront.

Deep in my heart, I knew Gusselan was right. I knew releasing Andriet was a mistake. I was all too aware that life meant enduring suffering and heartache, and that no one was meant to escape that truth. Even if I had experienced my share of suffering, I knew it was wrong to cheat the balance simply because I had the power to do so. Just as I felt guilt gnawing away at my peace with sharp teeth every time I commanded the dead, I suspected the consequences were dire. Though unforeseen, these consequences loomed as a future problem, easier to ignore in favor of dealing with the immediate issue at hand.

She seized my arm. "Promise me, Tressya."

I couldn't avoid her insistent gaze, burrowing into me like termites .

"I know how conflicted you are. But know you're doing the right thing."

Gusselan had the strength to do what was right because she wasn't the one to look in his eyes, to hear his pleas, as she sent him away.

"Promise me."

I swallowed. "I'll try."

She gripped my upper arms, giving me a gentle shake. "That's not good enough."

"I know."

Unable to look at me, she closed her eyes, lowering her chin to her chest. "I've warned you."

"Thank you."

She released me and returned inside the manor. I stared up at the fading sun, seeing the sun's rays tinging the edges of the gray clouds' gentle pinks and oranges.

Tamas, after treading the same path for numerous turns, made his way toward a maze of hedges, meticulously trimmed into neat, boxed rows that meandered out of sight. The hedges began at waist height but grew taller the deeper one ventured into their labyrinth. I strained to catch a final glimpse of him as he turned left and vanished around a corner.

I left the balcony, taking the stairs two at a time, and collided with Osmud at the bottom. He seized my arms, at first to steady me, but then he seemed unwilling to let me go.

"Anxious to be somewhere?" He quirked a brow.

"Have you seen Bryra?" She'd disappeared the moment she'd learned Tamas had survived .

He frowned down at me, as yet to release me from his hold. "She can take care of herself."

"And you question if I can?"

"I question many things about you. Whether you can take care of yourself is not one of them. Why would I care?"

He looked as cuddly as a snake and distrusting as anyone who had faced a cunning and deceitful foe, but I was not his enemy. The color of his eyes was remarkable, but only half as much as their piercing intensity.

"Do you really believe I would save my enemy?"

"If saving him served a purpose, yes."

"You trust Bryra's judgement. She was sent to kill me, but saved me instead."

In response, Osmud let me go, taking a step backward, his shock evident. "That can't be true."

"Can you explain how she passed through the Ashenlands unharmed? And how she reached Emberfell with no one thinking her curious?"

"She was in Emberfell?"

Osmud placed his hands on his hips, half-turning away from me as if what he had heard was too much to bear. "This will gut Tamas," he murmured, speaking more to himself than to me. Then he focused on me again. "How did she enter Emberfell?"

"None of that matters. I don't intend to tell Tamas anything. It's up to Bryra to decide what she wants to reveal. Tamas was already weakened when he arrived at Emberfell. He was in no state to help us escape. It was Bryra who saved him, and by doing so, saved Gusselan and me as well. For that, I am grateful to her. "

The four apostles appeared from the kitchen, and seeing Osmud and I hurried over.

"Tressya, may I say, we're a little concerned he's spending so much time on his feet," Tortilus said. "Perhaps it's a testament to our skill that he's able to do so, but we feel?—"

"I was on my way to speak to him," I interrupted and pushed past the five of them for the front door.

The gloom of approaching dusk cast the garden bed in a dull gray hue. Further on, shadows shrouded the maze of hedges. Given his head start, I wasn't confident in finding him.

"Tamas," I called as I moved farther into the maze, pulling the collar of my shirt up high to protect against the creeping chill.

The towering hedges on either side exuded the smell of oily resin and fresh-scented mallee pine. When I reached the end of the first path, I couldn't recall which way Tamas had turned, my mind preoccupied with all Gusselan had told me.

"Tamas." I stilled, believing I heard scuffling boots from within the maze. "Don't you dare force me to go in after you."

I held my breath. Nothing. "Everyone in the manor thinks you've lost your head. And that includes me."

Still, I heard nothing, but Tamas always claimed he was the perfect predator.

"The apostles are worried you're exerting yourself. They've spent the last few hours congratulating themselves in the kitchen with Gusselan's ale, and if you stay in here any longer, they'll down the wine as well," I yelled .

"That wouldn't do," he said from behind me, looking too casual for all the worry everyone else was brewing over him. "No one need worry about the residual effects of the Salmun's magic. I can say that's long gone. So perhaps the apostles deserve a wine or two."

"So if you're no longer suffering the effects of Salmun magic, why are you acting like you've gone insane? Normal people don't march around in circles through a garden bed for hours, Tamas."

He released a huff of laughter, a sound that was comforting and familiar, easing the tight knot in my stomach.

"Razohan can't handle being confined to a sickbed."

I nodded. "Plausible excuse."

"Why don't you walk with me?" He offered the crook of his arm.

"Through a maze, in the dark?"

"Are you frightened we may get lost?"

"I was thinking we should deal with the more pressing issues."

"Which are?"

"I'd say being hunted by the Salmun is pressing. And the Mother won't sit idle while we disappear."

"Your Mother Divine is the least of our worries."

He believed this only because he was unaware of the actions she had taken to secure her position in the power struggle. Given the apostles had healed Tamas's sickness, maybe they had the power to save me from the curse the Mother placed upon me; there had to be a way to sever the link between the Mother's and my fates .

"The Salmun are a real threat."

He slowly prowled toward me. "I think you worry too much."

What was going on with him?

"And I think you truly have lost your mind. The Salmun's poison seems to have burned all sense in your brain."

He laughed, but I was dead serious. I glared at him, but perhaps the intensity of my glare was lost in the dim dusk light.

"Tressya. Tressya. Tressya. You always needed a little loosening." Every time he spoke my name, he took one step closer until he'd taken all my free space and air.

I would be lying if I said I didn't find his prowling distracting—more than that, I found it arousing—but there was something unsettling in his demeanor. Our situation had never felt more precarious, yet Tamas seemed indifferent to the dangers we faced.

"How many Salmun did you consume?"

Even that remark failed to alter his expression. His lazy, arrogant smile remained undiminished, and now he was twirling a loose strand of my hair around his finger, subtly brushing his knuckles against my chin to distract me from my question.

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

He released the strand, only to trace his finger along my jawline until he reached my chin. I was grateful the near darkness shielded his eyes, preventing me from seeing where his gaze lingered.

"Not really," I answered, sounding in a daze.

His enticing touch worked. Damn him. I should pull away, but it had been too long since I'd felt Tamas' hands on me.

I succumbed to the magic of his fingers, let him cast his spell over me because I wasn't as strong as I wished to be. My body craved too much, and my heart craved even more. Neither the threat of the Salmun or the Mother, nor the possibility that Tamas had returned to the south for less honorable and sincere reasons, could make me easily dismiss him or what he was silently offering.

"Why did you come back?" The question escaped my lips before I could hold it back.

"You know why?" As he leaned down, the imminent threat of a kiss made every rational thought vanish, except for a lingering niggle in the back of my mind that implored me to maintain a semblance of sanity against his allure.

His response could mean one of two things, depending on the true nature of our relationship, and I was not convinced that his heart was aligned with mine.

That fateful night in the Ashenlands, after he'd risked his life by turning against the witch Romelda, I believed we were united in our hearts. Weeks had passed, and much had transpired since then. He had spent his time in the north, under Romelda's influence and surrounded by friends obviously opposed to keeping me alive.

I had encountered him in the throne room, even though he insisted he had come to me first, yet I had no way of determining the truth of his claim. Did he return to the south solely for the torn pages now in my pocket? There was no point in asking, as I could never be certain whether his answers were truthful .

I attempted to create some distance between us, but Tamas snapped out his arm and wrapped it around my waist, beguilingly, suffocatingly, anchoring me against him, holding me closer than we'd been before. Instead of focusing on the challenges we faced, as a stronger woman might have, the sensation of his warm body, pressing against mine, consumed all my attention. His scent, which had lingered so long in my memories, had become a craving I couldn't ignore, and I was a woman who'd been starved of affection for too much of my life.

Discipline . I needed the main tenet of the six pillars to help me float rather than sink in the ocean of my hunger. "What about the pages from the Senjel Oracles?"

"What about them?"

"No," I struggled to escape his embrace. "Stop it." He was being deceitful by omission. The hidden pages meant more to him than he let on. Twice he had stealthily entered Emberforge to search for them. I refused to delude myself into thinking he'd returned for me; his primary motivation for coming south was to hunt the Senjel Oracles.

"Easy, little queen." Tamas bound my wrists in a tight grip.

"Let go of me," I growled.

Using his lethal Razohan reflexes, he pinned my hands behind my back, anchored them in place with one hand. "Only if you ask me nicely," he crooned.

I lurched forward, intent on head-butting him in the nose to find air, as Tamas jerked his head away. He also caught my leg between his thighs to prevent my intended jab to his groin .

"This is the Tressya I know and love."

Love, as in a provocation he couldn't resist; love, as in a challenge he longed to conquer. This was all a game to him. I would do well to believe there were no other emotions attached to the word that his heart would acknowledge.

"This is the Tamas I've learned to hate," I sneered.

It was a lie, which made my heart bleed.

He suddenly released me, watching me stagger backward.

"If I had a dagger?—"

"You would have attempted to stab it through my eye."

"Heart. It's more lethal that way."

He huffed a laugh. "I've missed your sharp wit."

"Because you're surrounded by dullards and grovelers."

"Because no one captures my full attention quite like you."

His captivating words ensnared any sharp retort I might have offered, yet I couldn't allow myself to succumb to his seductive allure and lose myself. Not until I was certain that my heart was unbreakable. "I can't share your sentiment. Neither do I want to. We should return to the manor."

He stepped toward me—was it a threat? I halted, wary of his motive. "You wanted to talk about these?" And he pulled from his pocket the folded pages I'd torn from the Senjel Oracles.

"How—?" In any manner of ways. He was a man as cunning as he was fast.

"I should've known there was a more sinister reason for manhandling me. "

"My singular reason was pleasure. But this—" He waved them in front of me "—was a bonus."

Stealing them from me was hardly an act of trust, and I would make that clear except my curiosity won out. "And what do they say?" Would they easily reveal themselves to him?

"See for yourself."

He offered them to me.

I didn't want him to know I'd already tried. "In this light? I can barely make out your face, let alone read illegible scrawl."

"Then let us return to the light." He made to slip his hand to the small of my back, so I hurriedly retraced my steps through the maze and back toward the manor.

It didn't take us long to reach the sprawling portico. I mounted the steps and headed inside, conscious of Tamas' heavy footfalls close at my heels. I spared a glance into the grand reception room as I passed, seeing the apostles huddled around what appeared to be a book, before I took the stairs, two at a time.

I was halfway up when Osmud called out from behind us.

"Everything all right?"

I didn't stop my ascent, ignoring Tamas' reply, but he caught me up once I reached the landing, slipping his hand into mine and tugging me in one direction. I resisted withdrawing my hand, not knowing where I would go otherwise, until Tamas led me into his room and shut the door.

A candle remained lit, casting a buttery yellow glow across the walls. I glanced to the crumpled covers on the bed and thought of sex, then admonished myself for the thirst still lingering no matter my growing distrust and—I had to be honest with myself—dislike for this new Tamas.

"There's plenty of light now."

I turned from him and strolled toward the candle beside the bed. "What did it feel like when you were sick with the Salmun's magic?"

"That's a distraction."

"I'm honestly curious." I eased myself down on the side of the bed.

"Agony. And then I was saved. How about you look at the pages?"

I placed them in my lap, resting my hands on top. "Do you believe the apostles saved you? Are you truly free of the Salmun's influence?"

"That's what this is about. You think I'm possessed?"

"You're different."

"Better I hope."

I hitched a breath when he crouched in front of me, his muscular thighs outlined against his pants, his large body leaning toward me, caging me, as he placed his hands on my knees. How was it most movements he made had my mind so easily switching from thinking of safety and escape to thinking of me and him between the sheets? Hypnotized by how intoxicating his presence was to me, I simply stared at him like the dullard I accused him and his friends of being.

"Now, how about you take a look?"

And for him, this was nothing more than a way to find the Etherweave. Curse me for being the fool. I conceded, but I doubted with him crouching at my feet before me, I could concentrate at all.

I lifted the blank pages up, hiding his face, and stared at them. Next I tried closing my eyes, calling on discipline to steady my mind, but the fact Tamas' hands still rested on my knees, warming my skin underneath, did nothing to gather my focus.

"What do you see?"

"Patience."

I sighed when his finger appeared at the top of the pages, then he gradually lowered them down until our eyes met.

"And?" He quirked a brow.

"How am I supposed to concentrate with you pestering me?"

"It shouldn't be this hard."

Feeling as though it was an accusation, I snapped. "You do it then." And I shoved the pages at him.

My disappointment surprised me. I'd never wanted to be queen, neither did I want to rule from the Bone Throne, but I had felt special in becoming an heir to something as significant as the Etherweave, only for me to discover everyone was wrong.

The Salmun had allowed the Tannard line to end, believing I was the rightful heir. Tamas had claimed the same, yet for the Senjel's pages to reject me.

Tamas slid in beside me on the bed, his attention on the blank pages.

"That's impossible," Tamas said, leaning in close. "How can that be?"

I handed them back to him. "It seems you were wrong about me." I swallowed more of my disappointment, hating how much it leached into my voice. "So show me what they say."

Tamas took them, holding them up for me to see.

I gasped. "They're blank for you too."

He simply shook his head, tightening his grip on the edges of the pages.

"They don't respond to either of us. How can that be?" I uttered.

"The Salmun were wrong about how to bring the words to life."

"How are we going to make them work?" Then, I ripped the pages from Tamas's hand. "The apostles may know." And I hurried from the room before Tamas could protest.

Everyone glanced up from what they were doing when I stormed into the grand reception room.

"You lot." I glanced at the four apostles, still huddled around a book Tortilus had in his lap. "Come and look at this."

Everyone gathered around as I splayed the blank pages on the table.

"What are we looking at?" Osmud said, peering over Gusselan's shoulder.

Tortilus leaned closer as Plesy said. "They appear ancient. See these filaments." He pointed at the pigments of brown woven across the pages. "The process of making?—"

"That's not what we're interested in," Tamas interrupted him.

I flattened the parchments with my hands. "Do you know any spells to reveal hidden words? "

"Well…" Tortilus glanced at his fellow apostles. "There are some, I would surmise. Selisimus?"

"If I could consult?—"

"Either you know or you don't." Tamas slammed his hands down on the table.

"Well… Er…" Selisimus stuttered.

"Wait. Tamas, look," I said.

Thin black marks appeared where Tamas's and my hands touched the parchment in different places. They merged as one and spread outward like a snaking river, expanding across the parchment, and as they did so a sketch emerged in their wake.

I looked over at Tamas and found his gaze fixed on me.

"Twain is the bloodborn," he whispered.

I wasn't sure why he phrased it that way, but I understood his meaning; both heirs were necessary to unlock the secrets held within the Senjel's pages.