Somehow, my sister always sensed something was wrong. Probably due to the scowl she saw on my face.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answered quickly. “Do you know where Sinjin is?”
Jolie glanced away shyly and looked guilty.
Although we weren’t raised together, we shared a very special fraternal twin bond. It was there before birth and remained very strong. We both had insight into each other’s emotions, feelings, and even our thoughts.
“You do know where he is,” I insisted, judging by her expression.
Jolie nodded and turned toward her daughter’s crib. With her back to me, she simply said, “He’s running an errand.”
My shoulders relaxed. At least Sinjin’s whereabouts could be accounted for. He was safe so I inhaled a sigh of relief. My entire body grew lighter and less burdened. Just knowing that Sinjin was okay somehow erased the images of his death from my nightmare. It made it okay for me to believe the dream was just that—something produced by my subconscious.
Jolie turned and met my gaze, her hand resting on the crib. “Why do you ask, Bryn?”
Her eyes narrowed and her knuckles went white, making me uneasy again. Glancing from Jolie to Mathilda and back to Jolie again, I managed to reluctantly answer, “I had a nightmare about him.”
“What kind of nightmare?” Jolie asked. She tried to look disinterested but I could see right through it. There was something bothering her.
As I stood in front of my sister, part of me wanted to unload on her. I was dying to tell her about every single horrifying image that entered my mind while I slept. But another part of me knew it was wrong to tell her. I hated to worry her about something that could have been nothing at all.
Plus, I was nervous that maybe Jolie would think that whatever I dreamt of could have been something I actually considered doing? What if she thought I was still out for blood? At any rate, I decided it best not to share the dark visions with her and Mathilda. Not until I managed to gain some clarity about the dream or the vision itself.
“Bryn,” Jolie said, walking toward me and taking my hand. I tried to pull it away from her but she held it tightly in a two-handed grip. “What kind of nightmare?” she asked, her voice sounding so sweet and concerned.
“It was nothing,” I answered immediately, shaking my head.
Did it have anything to do with what happened to you in Luce’s compound? She telepathically sent the words to me. Being twins and both of us possessing magic allowed us to read each other’s thoughts.
What happened to you is going to take a long time to heal, Bryn, Jolie continued. And I know you haven’t discussed it with anyone. I’m worried that keeping it all bottled up inside of you might affect you negatively.
I shook my head and immediately stepped away from her. The memories of what happened to me at the hands of Luce still made me fight the urge to run and hide. Even now. But I hesitated.
Maybe what happened to me at the camp did have something to do with my dream? I thought to myself, shielding Jolie from my words. Maybe the vision I had was simply what I wanted to see happening to those bastards that raped me. Maybe all the anger I continued to suppress was now taunting me in my dreams?
“It was just a nightmare,” I insisted.
“Share it with me then,” Jolie replied. “Maybe it will make you feel better to get it all out.”
I pulled my hand away from Jolie’s and made my way to the open window. The view of the west side of the castle and beyond was breathtaking. The sun was quickly ascending in the sky, bathing everything in brilliant hues of orange and red.
You are tainted, stained, and broken, a small whisper piped up from within me. Everything about you is scarred and unwholesome! You don’t deserve any beauty or a decent life. I wanted to strike back until I realized that small voice was mine.
Bryn, I heard Jolie say in my head again. You can tell me anything.
It’s nothing, I insisted. So stop worrying about it and pay attention to the million and one things you do need to worry about.
You are one of those million and one things, she answered. And I can see how this nightmare is eating you up inside.
There was no chance of keeping anything from my sister. I turned to face her, and her blue eyes seemed so inviting. Her perfect posture, light blond hair, and fair skin made her resemble an angel—one of absolute kindness and honesty. She was right, as usual. I needed to share my awful dream with her—lest it destroy me from the inside out.
“It’s disturbing,” I finally admitted out loud. I figured it would eventually make it back to Mathilda anyway, so I might as well admit it.
Jolie took another step toward me but carefully kept her distance, knowing how uncomfortable I was with close proximity. “Tell me, Bryn.”
The need to share it with someone outweighed my common sense. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to let Jolie in. I glanced at Mathilda who was draped over the crib, giving all her attention to the princess, and allowing Jolie and me our privacy. I turned back to face Jolie and sighed.
Glancing down at the floor, I forced myself to return to my nightmare, and I pulled out the grim details from the overwhelmingly ugly visuals. When I spoke, my voice was low and monotone. I held my emotions in check, keeping them on a short leash, close to me. I had to tell the story without breaking down.
“We were all here in Kinloch Kirk,” I started, my voice already sounding eerie. “I was training with Sinjin in the forest and …” I lost my nerve then. All my courage abandoned me and my voice faltered.
“Go ahead, tell me,” Jolie coaxed, her voice warm and caressing. Hearing the sound of her voice, the princess stirred, cooing at Jolie from her crib. Seeing how attuned the baby was to her mother, I nodded to Jolie, gesturing for her to follow me to the other side of the room. She did, and I continued my rendition.
I closed my eyes, relying on those of my mind to remember exactly what I’d seen. “All of a sudden, screams echoed through the forest where Sinjin and I stood. Screams that were coming from Kinloch Kirk.” I put my hands up to my ears, hearing the blood-curdling screams all over again as I begged my mind to silence them.
“What happened next, Bryn?”
My heart was slamming into my chest and my breathing came in short, ragged spurts. “Sinjin and I ran toward the castle. The place was up in flames, and all I could think about was getting to you and the baby. But …” I opened my eyes and glanced away from Jolie—the nightmare was pumping waves of fear throughout my body.
“But?” she asked. Her expression was confused, and trepidation shone in the huge pupils of her eyes.
I swallowed hard. My fingers twisted like white pretzels in front of me, all of their own accord. I glanced down. For some reason, telling her the next part was something I couldn’t do while looking directly into her eyes. How could I? It was the most horrific and despicable thing I’d ever seen. “But it was too late.” That’s all I could say. Details were not needed unless she insisted on them. And even then, I’d have to struggle to give them to her.
“What was too late?” she asked, shaking her head like she were lost. “You have to explain, Bryn.”
“I can’t,” I said as I looked down. “It’s too horrible, too awful.”
“Bryn, look at me,” Jolie ordered, taking a step forward as she lifted my hand and I forced my eyes to hers. “In order to understand the dream, I need to hear it all—even the gritty details, because there may be something in there that is important. So don’t leave anything out.”
I glanced at Mathilda who was standing a few feet from Jolie, listening to every word. Her long, silvery hair draped over her shoulder and her eyes remained fixated on me while I shared the horrid details of the dream. I nodded at Jolie, but when I tried to continue, I faltered again.
“Bryn,” Jolie encouraged me.
I nodded again and took a deep breath before I proceeded. I couldn’t look her in the face. “You had been raped and stabbed repeatedly,” I said
softly, my voice sounding defeated. “Your body lay at the foot of your bed.”
“And Rand?” she asked, apparently unconcerned with herself at all.
It amazed me how she cared so little about herself. She was always worried about others first and foremost. But selflessness was only one of many reasons that made her a wonderful queen. She was also generous in her concern about the well-being of those around her.
As soon as I remembered what happened to Rand, I shuddered and dropped my eyes to the floor. “His throat was slit. Blood was everywhere. On the walls, the floor, the duvet and …” Hot tears stung my eyes.
My shoulders suddenly felt too heavy, as if an invisible elephant sat on top of them. I didn’t know how to continue telling her everything I’d seen. But I had to find the strength and finish the description. What if there were something of importance? Something that would help us understand these visions? What if my biggest fear was about to come to fruition? That fear stemmed from my being here with Jolie and her people. I worried I was endangering them. Luce’s wicked mind was undoubtedly conjuring ways to take his revenge on me. He did it once before, so why not again?
Jolie had her hand to her mouth, and I could tell she was worried. I felt awful for telling her about it, especially if it were nothing but my idiotic subconscious just dreaming up horrible scenes. And the way I told her was totally lacking in diplomacy. I lacked couth—I wasn’t very good at sugarcoating the truth.
“And Emma?” Jolie whispered.
The breath caught in my throat when I thought of the princess. I shook my head and tried to suppress the tears that threatened to fall. I couldn’t allow them to—not now when I needed to be strong. For Jolie. I felt a tear spilling over the rim of my eye. It ran down my cheek and dripped off my chin. I continued to shake my head. No way could I share with my sister what I saw—what those monsters did to my beautiful niece—the princess of Kinloch Kirk.
“My people?” Jolie asked. “And what about Sinjin?”
“Jolie,” I almost begged, loath to return to the ugliness of my mind. I couldn’t stand the idea of recalling the painful images or hearing the screams. “It’s only a dream, right?”
“What about Sinjin?” she repeated, her voice rose and her need to know became desperately apparent. The anxiety visible in her body made me feel my own nerves sparking from within.
It’s only a dream, I told myself while trying to remember the image of Sinjin. “Sinjin stumbled into a trap,” I started. “Even though I couldn’t see him, I was sure the trap was set by Luce. And he was there with a Daywalker, or maybe he wasn’t a Daywalker, but he looked like one. He was young, but his powers were beyond anything I’d ever seen before, but he … he was a child! He looked like a Daywalker, but he didn’t feel like one, if that makes any sense?”
“Go on,” Jolie said, her chin held high.
I nodded. “Sinjin was on the ground and … and he was a mess. He’d been attacked pretty badly. The Daywalker, or whatever he was, lifted his hands into the air and what looked like lightning ricocheted off his fingertips. They were bolts of lightning that he aimed at Sinjin’s body!” I shook my head and tried to calm my frantic heartbeat. “I could hear Sinjin screaming, and now I can’t seem to get it out of my head.” I shook my head again as I caught my breath. “I wanted to help him, but I couldn’t. I wanted to go to him, but I was frozen in place. I couldn’t even move.”
Jolie’s shoulders fell forward as she glanced at the floor and then back at me. “Sinjin was dead?”
“Yes.” I couldn’t keep my tears back any longer. The memories were too painful and too real. “Luce walked up to him,” I persisted, forcing myself to return to the veil of the dream, despite how much I hated it. “He stood over Sinjin and said something about retribution for Sinjin taking something from him.”
“Taking something from him?” Jolie repeated.
“I can’t remember what it was,” I started as I fought to remember, to place the missing piece. “His arm. Luce was missing his arm.”
“Hmm,” Jolie said as she worried her lower lip.
With another deep breath, I banished the dream, forcing myself to focus on the scenery around me. If only I could convince myself the dream wasn’t real. “I woke up in a cold sweat and I couldn’t go back to sleep. It just … felt so real.” I glanced from Jolie to Mathilda and said, “It was only a nightmare though, right?”
Neither one answered me. I faced Jolie, who brought her haunted eyes up to mine, and we just stared at one another for a few seconds before she spoke. “I don’t know.”
THREE
Sinjin
Rachel and I were only a few kilometers outside of Luce’s compound. We managed to stay safely ensconced within the forest, using the canopy of treetops to conceal us. As we navigated through the shadows, I continuously took stock of our surroundings. I had to ensure no one from the camp had followed us.
We walked in silence, allowing me the time I needed to review the events of the night. Betta had been accurate in her detailed description of the place. The wards—the people—their sleeping quarters. Without the information Betta provided, I could not have made it as far as I did. I would reward the little tart later, upon my return.
For now, I had to focus on navigating my way out of the forest. This proved to be difficult as I found my thoughts continuously eluding the task at hand. Rather than focusing on the forest surrounding me, I found myself contemplating Jack Jeffers—the anomaly among the Daywalkers.
How did he manage to live past his twenty-first birthday? At twenty-nine years of age, he was still quick and surprisingly agile, with no obvious demarcations of the disease that inevitably claimed all the Daywalkers’ lives. Thinking of him, I recalled how he spoke of Lady Bryn. A sudden, acidic sensation of discontent began to stir in my bowels.
The despicable creature should have died! It was owing to my own failure that he remained alive. It mattered not that he had failed to defile the beautiful woman—his intentions were bad enough. He most definitely aimed to take that which she would have never given him of her own free will. And that was plenty enough for me to condemn him to the cold, dank earth. I bemoaned my own incapacity to see justice served. I could not shake the sense of failure that overcame me. It was my fault the bastard still drew breath. And where I was unsuccessful before, I vowed not to fail again. The next opportunity to destroy Jeffers would be swiftly taken, except this time, I would triumph.
But Jeffers was not the only nagging memory within me. The thought that worried me the most had to do with the Lady Bryn, herself. I recalled Jeffers mentioning something. It was that something which occupied my mind with the force of a tornado. No matter how hard I strove to ignore his words, and despite calling them the ramblings of a fool, they continued to cloud my mind.
“I did go to her, but when I tried to take her, she burned me! Her skin got really hot before she just erupted into flames! Right there in front of me! But it didn’t look like the fire was hurting or burning her. It was more like the fire was a part of her.”
It was more like the fire was a part of her …
The words echoed in my mind, creating myriad questions with no answers. As far as I knew, Elementals could not erupt into human torches, nor did they possess the stamina or immunity to withstand fire.
Hmm … I wondered what type of powers my little pet possessed then? Powers that I was fairly certain she never discussed with another living soul. Not even with her sister or Mathilda. Definitely not with me.
No longer sensing Rachel beside me, I turned to find her leaning over with one hand on the trunk of a tree. No sooner did I spot her before she released the contents of her stomach onto the unenviable forest floor in a most unappealing fashion.
“Bloody hell,” I started.
Falling to her knees, she looked like a feline choking on a furball. Her body heaved and spewed until nothing but bile spattered onto the dirt and ground. She groaned, and I took that moment to reacquaint mys
elf with the natural beauty of the nearest pine tree. Truth be told, regurgitated food never fails to upset my own stomach. It’s quite peculiar really. Gore, in general, is much more preferable to me. I have no qualms with that; but vomit and I are not contented bedfellows.
When Rachel finished her dramatic act, she wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her dress before running her hand across her sweaty forehead. Then she looked up at me.
“That was quite a show,” I said, hoping to spare her any embarrassment, although I felt I should say something. Perhaps “are you quite well?” would have been more diplomatic, but I am not a man that can be characterized as empathetic.
Using the tree for leverage, Rachel pushed her body upright until she was standing. Then she spat one last time before she said to me, “Sorry about that, Sinjin. I’m ready to start walking again.”
“Are you certain?”
She just nodded, and I strode forward again. “Well, the good news is that after that … performance ... my own pangs of hunger seem to have turned tail and fled right out of my mind.”
Rachel laughed but soon grew quiet so I turned around again. I was hoping her stomach contents would not reappear, and although they did not, a frown marred her pretty face as she said, “I’m sorry, I don’t feel well.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach and continued to walk behind me. Silence descended between us again until she broke it. “Sinjin.”
“Yes, madam?” I stopped and looked at her. An expression of anguish contorted her face, which was also pale and shiny. “Shall we sit and rest for a few moments?”
“Yes, please,” she answered, reaching for a nearby tree and bracing herself before she slid down the trunk and into a seated position. Then she doubled over, wrapping both arms around her stomach.
“Is Luce doing that to you?” I asked. I was mystified when it came to identifying the source of the poor twit’s discomfort.
“No,” she winced in pain again. “Give me one second, please.”
“Of course,” I replied as I eyed her from a distance. I was trying to estimate whether or not the odds were in my favor that she would not regurgitate on me if I attempted to carry her.