Page 6 of Between Despair and Hope

“You know what I’m going to ask you, right?” Dewalt’s voice was kinder than normal. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought he felt bad for me. He had been asking me the same question for weeks, and I didn’t know what he’d hoped to get out of it. But maybe it would go somewhere this time. Maybe the oath would let me speak.

“I do. Perhaps I can answer now.” I nodded toward Emmeline in the corner, hopeful.

“Why did you slit Elora’s throat?” I felt his compulsion and my words warring with the oath I’d sworn. My throat was working, swallowing, and I tried so hard to get out what I needed to say. I wanted to tell them. Ineededto tell them. But I’d sworn a verit oath, and that power was stronger. Nourished by the same earth magick those with elvish blood drew from, it mixed with my own divinity, making it nearly impossible to break. I felt closer to success this time though, with Emmeline here. I wanted to tell her, to help her understand why I did it. To explain why Elora was the price I had to pay.

“Seer.” The word slipped out past my gritted teeth. Dewalt’s face matched my own, eyebrows high and shock written across it. My throat promptly closed when I said it, and I couldn’t breathe. This happened every time I fought the verit oath, and Dewalt noticed it, giving the quiet order releasing me from his compulsion. I was gasping for breath as they spoke to one another.

“That’s the most I’ve ever been able to get from him,” he said to Emmeline as she took a step forward. She unfolded her arms and put one hand over the other. It took me a moment to realize she was healing busted knuckles.

“And he says it’s because of the verit oath?”

“Yes. He can answer some questions about the oath, but not enough. He says if certain conditions are fulfilled, he can speak, but it won’t let him tell me what those conditions are. See why I wanted your help?” She nodded, taking a few steps toward me. When she got close, I could see the dark circles under her eyes—she hadn’t been sleeping. When I finally caught my breath, I decided to ask what Dewalt wouldn’t answer.

“Is Elora alive?” I asked, voice ruined.

“She is not dead.” Her eyes narrowed on me, and I remembered her abilities as a harrower. She didn’t have a weapon on her; shewasthe weapon. Thank the gods Ismene’s ability never went as far as stopping hearts. But perhaps it could, with Emmeline to teach her.

“She is alright?”

“No. She is not. Answer the gods damn question. Why did you do it?”

“What do you mean? Is she—weren’t you able to heal her?”

The sharp crack of her palm against my cheek took me by surprise, and I fell backwards onto the ground. Shadows danced around her hands, dangerous. I’d seen it before with my brother. His shadows always made an appearance every time he punished me. I closed my eyes, pushing the memories away.

“Why did you do what you did?” Voice quiet and precise, she took a step back, and I watched her shadows disappear, a pained look on her face as she wrested control of them.

When it was her asking, rather than the captain, I didn’t feel the verit oath clamp down.

Finally.

“A seer foretold it. I had to.” Emmeline and the captain exchanged a glance. “I swore a verit oath that I could only tell you after—afterwards. Because otherwise you’d stop me.” Gods, I wished she had stopped me.

“Well, out with it, princeling.” Her jaw jutted out, and it reminded me so much of Elora.

“I was in the village outside Evenmoor, hunting down Faxon to bring him back to the estate. Declan didn’t want me to harm the man, but I’d had enough. He was drinking himself stupid on my credit, and I already disliked him. I didn’t know the details about the transaction, just that he’d sold Elora, and she called him Papa. I didn’t know about…” Emmeline inclined her head, wanting me to press forward. “An elfling stopped me in the street. She was only a child—twelve at most. She begged me to follow her, that her mother needed help.”

“You, a prince of Folterra, followed a little elvish girl on the street because she wanted you to?” the captain asked. He sounded dubious, and, truly, I didn’t blame him.

“The gods only know why, because I don’t. Maybe it was her magick. The elf-blood was strong; her teeth were sharp, and her ears were quite pointy.” I paused, taking a breath. I was rambling. “Anyway, her mother was a seer, not a drop of elf-blood I could see, and I would’ve left if she hadn’t told me the name of my mother’s cat. But she made me swear a bloody verit oath before she showed me anything. The little girl and I exchanged the words, forged the oath. I swore to only tell you—after. After I did what I did. I tried to tell Elora. I tried to tell her but the oath wouldn’t let me—shit, that’s not important.” I rubbed my face. “The seer showed a vision of war at my brother’s hand, of cities burned to ash. Dead children, dead animals, everyone dead. Everything was dark, and the sun hid behind shadows. And then the vision changed—everything was fine again. Cities flourished, people were happy and healthy, night wasn’t a depthless impenetrable hell. And Elora’s death was the only thing that could stop it. The seer showed me exactly what would happen that day with you and my father, and how it had to happen. Elora’s death was the only thing which could prevent the endless night.”

Emmeline was motionless as she stared at me. The captain gripped her elbow after a few moments when her shoulders rolled forward, her posture slackening.

“Elora’s death caused Ciarden to bless me—to…to complete—” She cursed as she fled the room, and the captain followed closely behind, leaving me chained on the ground.

Oak had been lingering outside the cell when I told my tale to Emmeline and the captain. He came in and unhooked me from the ground, but instead of taking me back to that dank hole a floor below, he allowed us to linger a bit longer. Bless the man; I could have kissed him. I moved closer to the barred window, trying to stand in the sun. It wasn’t warm by any means, but it was light. I soaked it up like a cat.

What had Emmeline meant when she said Elora wasn’t alright? The woman clearly hadn’t been sleeping, and she was a shell of a person. The girl wasn’t dead, so what could it have meant? If only I could get the gods forsaken chains off of me. I would build an illusion and break into her dreams if I could, just to see her. When I had my arm around her, my dagger to her throat, I’d told her I was sorry. I told her I could…Had I meant it?

“They’re both staying in the king’s quarters, and I spoke to that pretty laundress I told you about? Ofie? She said she’d come find me if there was a chance…” I stared at him, uncertain why he was telling me this. “Why aren’t you excited?”

“Why would I be excited about that, Oak?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want to see her. She doesn’t leave the rooms. I think—Ofie said she’s stuck, that all she does is sleep. She can’t wake, and the healers don’t know what to do.”

I stopped breathing. She was trapped, stuck sleeping. And it was my fault. Was she dreaming? Was she having nightmares? Considering the horror of what I’d done to her was her last memory, it was probable. Gods, I was a fool. I stilled, realizing what Oak had said.

“You’ll take me to see her?”

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