Page 58 of Daughter of No Worlds

I closed my eyes and imagined it — imagined draping a filter across my own thoughts and building a barrier between me and the world. The faint echo of Max’s presence dimmed further, as did the thrumming presence of the birds and fish. My own head felt quieter.

I lifted it, felt those tiny awarenesses bloom back to life. Lowered it again.

I felt a smile begin to tug at my mouth.

“It’ll take some time to master, like most things,” Max said. “And you’re probably always going to feel it to some extent.”

“Good,” I said — and meant it. I wouldn’t want to cut myself off completely from that part of myself, even when it was difficult. As much as it hurt me to feel the overwhelming weight of all those slaves’ emotions at the marketplace all of those years ago, their pain was already mine. I would never want to turn that away.

And the fear and anguish and anger that I felt yesterday…

My gaze fell to a little waterfall above Max’s shoulder. The water trickling over the stones reminded me so vividly of the blood on the Palace steps that I suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

Max followed my gaze, paled slightly. I knew we were both thinking the same thing.

“There are many things I must know,” I said, quietly. And when Max’s eyes found mine again, a resignation had settled into them.

He sighed. “I suppose there are.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Tell me about the war,” I said, when it became clear that Max didn’t even know where to start.

He lifted his chin toward my hands. “You keep going with those butterflies, and I will.”

I obeyed. So did he.

“There is an area in northern Ara,” he began, “A mountainous region called the Ryvenai territory. Traditionally, the region has always had some tension with the rest of Ara, even centuries ago. They have always been somewhat separatist. Over the course of Aran history, they’ve fought for independence no less than five times. But the one eight years ago was by far the worst, because it was the first big one since the rise of magic and the establishment of the Orders.”

“Why worse?”

“Because an abnormally large proportion of Solarie are Ryvenai. In fact, many people believe thatallSolarie are Ryvenai in some way, even if it was centuries back in their bloodline.”

“Are you?”

He let out a humorless chuckle. “Enough to be stuck with one of those ridiculously long names.”

“So you fought for—”

“I foughtagainstthe Ryvenai, not for them. It didn’t make me very popular with anyone.”

The more he spoke, the more his voice tightened, like a string drawing taut. I could tell this was difficult for him to discuss.

“Why?” I asked.

“I had been in the military since I was twelve. It wasn’t even a choice for me. Besides, I would never throw away everything I had built”

Twelve?

At my blink of surprise, he added, “I wasn’t a soldier then. It was what I did instead of a traditional apprenticeship. I was trained by the military. Honestly? I loved it there. But, it was different in peacetime.”

A faint steam rose from the surface of the water around him. “Anyway,” he huffed. “This is not about me.”

“It isn’t?” I pressed.

“It isn’t.” He eyed me. “Butterflies, please.”

I obeyed, but my mind was far away. “Did Sammerin serve also?”

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