Page 22 of Between Despair and Hope

“Can you think of anything else that might help us regarding the sewers, other than the obvious?”

The divinity and I sat with the question, allowing it to tour the library inside my mind, and found I had nothing to add. When I told her no, the merrow released it, and the film over her eyes opened.

“Why was it you who came to compel me? Nearly everyone here can do it. Do you know how rare that is? I’ve only ever met—”

“Because I’m curious about you. I know you had a vision, and I know you have feelings for the girl.” I balked, not sure if I wanted to correct her. My eyes drifted over to Elora who lay sleeping beside us, a small smile on her lips. What was the point of having feelings for someone you’d wronged—multiple times over? “Why did you do it?”

“You know about the vision, yet ask why I did it?”

“I know about the vision and the fact you clearly feel something for Elora. You saw a vision, and it was bad. Bad enough for you to kill her. You were raised by that foul prince, and yet you knew you had to do what was needed to awaken the Beloved. Who taught you that?”

I looked down at my hands, still not quite sure what she was asking. I didn’t have a choice. Was Elora more important than the Three Kingdoms? Maybe to Emmeline, to the king. But to me? I didn’t know. I did then, but not anymore.

“Who taught you about making hard decisions for the greater good, piglet?” Quiet, her voice coaxed a response from me.

“My mother. She—she was a good woman. I-I thought she would have been disappointed in me if I didn’t do what I needed to do to stop Declan. She feared him, knew what he was capable of. But now I’m wondering if she would have been disappointed because of what I did.”

The door creaked open, and I looked down at my hands. The hands that killed the only light I’d experienced since my mother died. I missed my friend.

“She wouldn’t have been disappointed in your choice. She would have been sad you had to make it.” The door snicked shut.

Back in my cell that night, thoughts of my illusions with Elora haunted me. I kept falling into sad dreams of hers. Memories of her and Faxon plagued her lately. I got to see her as a small child trying to maneuver a fishing pole, making the man put a worm on the end while she apologized to the bait the whole time. It hurt my heart to know the poor, innocent thing would be sold by the man who truly seemed to love her in those memories. He sold her tome. And then what had I done to her?

Another scene which tortured us was Declan taking her from me. The night before he took her, she had fallen asleep on the chaise in my chambers. We’d both been reading, and instead of waking her and sending her to her room, I put one of my blankets over her and laid in my own bed, watching her. Her memory began with us both waking up around the same time, realizing later that it was because of the sounds of Declan pounding through the estate. But until he got there, we laid there in sleepy silence, just watching each other wake. She had smiled at me, and the sun from the window hit her face in a way which made her blue eyes shine.

Then the door burst open, and Declan ruined everything, as he always did. She relived the way he leered at her on my chaise, the cruel spread of his smile over his face. The way his eyes slid down to the blanket which had moved down her waist and the sliver of skin showing where her shirt had lifted. She yanked it down, and, even after seeing the memory a dozen times, the anger roiled in my gut. The Cyran from her memories just lay in the bed, unmoving, until he finally sat up and faced Declan. Is that what I had done? Had my disgust for my brother not been clear on my face? The fear of what he was about to do? I supposed it must have been what she saw, because why would she remember it as such otherwise? When he hauled her away, picking her up at the waist so her back pressed against his chest as her legs kicked out, she couldn’t see me. She heard me though. She heard me beg Declan not to take her. She didn’t see me grab onto his belt loop and pull him toward me. She didn’t see him send a shadow down my throat. She didn’t see him beat me after he took her away, to the point where one of his healers took pity on me. I had pissed blood for a week.

The most common memory was her last one, and I ached every single time I saw it. I wished I could go back. I wished I could have made Emmeline only think I’d done it. The vision had been vague, but what if I would have just thought longer and harder about it? What if I could have made Emmeline believe it was real? Just enough to awaken Ciarden’s power. What if I had been able to tell Elora about the vision? She could have helped me come up with something.

I had so many regrets.

Even though I was tired from the illusion with Elora, since they didn’t bother putting me in chains anymore, I tried once again to contact Ismene. I was shocked when I found her. I’d conjured up her bedroom within Evenmoor, the dark earth tones of the room a comfort to me. The walls were a deep green paisley pattern, and I drew my eyes from them to my sister sitting on the bed. When she turned her head to look at me, I nearly vomited. Both of her eyes were bruised, a deep purple and greenish color. One was swollen shut, and I could only see one hazel eye which matched mine. I knew without me being there, it might be worse for her, but he’d never hit her hard enough to leave a mark before. When I could finally speak, she sat quietly with her hands in her lap.

“I’m so sorry, Ismene. Are you alright? Well, of course you’re not alright, but—I’ve been trying to reach you. I’ve been trying every night, Iz, I swear.” My eyes moved down to her wrists and didn’t see any red marks, common with obsidian cuffs. She tracked the movement and pulled her long black hair over her shoulders to hang loose behind her back. There was a red circle around her neck.

“A necklace. He forgot to put it back on after he used me for harrowing. I can take it off, but if he finds me without it, well…” She gestured to her eyes. I walked across the space to her and knelt, taking her hands in mine.

“I should be there. I’m sorry. I should have made sure you could come with—”

“Cyran, you need me here, so I can help. Listen, before he comes and wakes me. There is a group of rebels. They can help you. Put them in contact with the Vestian queen.”

I felt the pull, the tingle as the illusion fought me. Bloody hell.

“Iz, I’m sorry. Please, just be careful. Do what he says, alright? Try not to talk back to him. Do whatever you have to. I’ll try to find a way to get to you.”

“No, I’m not leaving here until Declan is dead. You need my eyes, you need me. Besides, who is going to take care of Magda?” The housekeeper who had raised us since our mothers died could take care of herself, and I told my sister as much. She was shaking her head as the illusion started to fade.

“I’ll check in whenever I can, Iz. I promise. Midday and after sunset, I’ll try every night.” She was nodding when I was pushed out.

I’d thought I was being pushed out from her side of the illusion, but when I came to, it was to chains being clamped back onto my wrists, the obsidian burning my skin.

“What is happening?”

My question went unanswered as I was hauled to my feet and pushed out of my cell.

Chapter 10

Rainier

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