You will never succeed, Margaret. You will always fail.
Meg jerked awake with a panicked gasp. Her throat constricted, and a fit of dry, hacking coughs stole whatever breath was left in her lungs. Strong hands with wiry fingers pressed against her collarbone, and she clutched at a pair of bony wrists.
“Easy, Meg. Just breathe.”
Mickey. With her firm tone and gentle accent.
In the dark, Meg released her cousin’s wrists and slid her fingers down to grip Mickey’s hands.
“Mickey,” Meg grated out. “What happened?”
Her voice scraped like gravel, raw and dry.
“Centaurs.”
Meg blinked, trying to clear the numbing fog out of her eyes.
Images and memories swam in Meg’s vision. A Centaur riding a dragon, for one.
Because just normal Centaurs weren’t enough trouble, now they had to fly in on dragonback.
Mickey lowered herself to the edge of the bed, her hip pressed against Meg’s. The lights overhead washed out her skin and made her look pale.
Or maybe she was actually pale.
“Are you all right?” Meg took her elbow.
Mickey smiled fondly. “I’m always fine.”
Meg had to smirk. “That’s my line.”
Slowly, Meg pushed herself up. Mickey didn’t stop her but offered an arm to use to keep her balance. Meg squeezed her cousin’s arm in response and rolled her head around her sore shoulders.
You will never succeed, Margaret. You will always fail.
Velanna’s reprimand still stung in her ears.
It didn’t really surprise her that Velanna felt that way. Meg felt that way about herself, and it was to be expected certainly after—after everything that had happened.
Meg shook herself and glanced around the large treatment room on the medical floor of Prism Castle. Strange not to see Jenny’s pastel flutterings around the injured.
Jenny.
“Meg?” Mickey leaned toward her, exhausted eyes full of worry.
Meg whirled to face her, panic rising in her throat. “Where is Jenny?”
She moved too fast. Mickey flinched and raised a defensive fist.
Gahlee. Meg lifted both palms to face her. “Sorry.”
Mickey took a slow, tremulous breath, fist lowering as she glanced away in embarrassment. It had only been a month since she’d been rescued from the hell that had been her childhood, fifteen years of abuse and cruelty. No matter how safe she knew she was, fifteen years of instinct didn’t disappear overnight.
Meg didn’t touch her.
She’d learned that lesson already.
If Mickey didn’t invite touch, she didn’t want it. The only one who’d found a way around that was Jenny.
Meg waited, grinding her teeth as Mickey’s defenses cooled, memories from the Centaur attack on Chandan Village rushing back over her in a black wave of horror.
She remembered the field. Red smoke on the horizon. Dragons with leathery wings spewing rivers of darkness over the green pastures. T’zuman’s reprimand. Velanna’s disappointment.
Mickey’s long fingers nudged Meg’s knee, a silent invitation for physical closeness.
Meg wrapped her arm around Mickey’s shoulders and leaned in. “Where is Jenny?”
“The Centaurs took her,” Mickey said softly. “Her and Barb.” She sniffled quietly. “Danny and Jim are okay. Just beat up, like the rest of us.”
Meg shut her eyes and lay her forehead against Mickey’s. They stayed that way for a long time, breathing each other’s presence. Mickey shifted and laid her head on Meg’s shoulder, and Meg pulled her in for a full hug.
So much for a happier life.
Mickey’s fingers grasped at the back of Meg’s blouse. “Velanna wanted to see you when you woke up.”
Meg scowled and pulled back. “What do you mean?”
Mickey tilted her head. “She wants to see you.”
“We—already talked.”
Now it was Mickey’s turn to scowl. “Meg, you’ve been unconscious since the attack.”
Well, now that didn’t make sense. Velanna and T’zuman had already raked her over the coals about her failure in Chandan Village. She hadn’t been able to stop the dragons. She’d lost her energy saber. They were both thoroughly disgusted with her.
Which wasn’t necessarily an unusual thing, but it was rare that they both made their disgust known at the same time.
“Mickey, I’m positive we’ve already spoken.”
“No, Meg.” Mickey shook her head. “You haven’t.”
“Then why do I remember it?”
Mickey shifted next to her, and Meg released her hold. Someday they’d be able to embrace the way Meg could with Jenny or Danny, snuggled beneath layers of fuzzy blankets, giggling at the melodramatic script of some ancient Veelari legend on a winter night. Until then, Meg had to read her cousin’s minor grimaces and clenching fists to know when she could approach. The angle of Mickey’s shoulders said Meg had been clinging too long.
Just as well.
It was time to move.
Centaurs had Jenny and Barb, and something needed to be done.
“Where is Velanna?” Meg stood up and blew out a breath of shock as jolts of pain in her back and hips and shoulders shook her.
“Library.” Mickey offered a half-cocked smile. “Where else?”
Mickey turned at an angle that showed a gash that ran from her temple to her jaw, already bound with five tape stitches.
Meg’s fingers itched to hold her again. To pull her close and not let her go. But Mickey had already put more distance between them. Right now the only person who had permission to bridge that gap was Jenny.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Meg held her gaze.
For the briefest of moments, a flash of vulnerability softened Mickey’s face. “It was scary.”
“Yes.” Meg chuckled lightly. “Yes, it was.” She held Mickey’s eyes. “I saw you fighting. You did well.”
Mickey shrugged. “Fighting’s one thing I know how to do.”
Meg began to reach for her and stopped. Mickey still hadn’t shifted toward her.
Glancing around the room again, Meg eyed the other bodies laying in the beds. All Josharon. “Are you helping Zyna?”
Mickey nodded at the bustling ball of white tails and fur at the other end of the room. “Danny’s sitting in on the High Council meeting. I’m helping Zyna with the wounded. Jim and Velanna are in the Library.”
Meg inhaled and felt the stretch of her lungs.
“Thank you.” Meg smiled at her cousin.
In spite of everything, the smile Mickey returned was warm.
Meg pushed her feet into the pair of slippers at the end of the bed and hurried out of the room before her own instincts demanded she gather Mickey up in a warm hug without her permission. Velanna’s library was on the first floor of the castle, so she had a ways to go.
Prism Castle was silent and dark. Even the aelon stones had lost some of their shine, plunging the towering corridors with intricate marble work and detailed painted walls into shadow.
The shadows in Chandan Village had been everywhere. Like fingers with bruising strength gripping her, tearing at her, stabbing her with thousands of knife blades. She’d been alive in the heart of a black thunderhead, and she couldn’t escape the pain no matter what she tried.
Why did the Centaurs take Jenny? What good was Jenny to them? And Barb? Barb knew even less about the castle defenses than Jenny did. What were they thinking? Or had they just grabbed the first people they saw?
Meg stumbled against the wall and gripped a door frame until the wave of nausea passed her.
You will never succeed, Margaret. Velanna regarded her with such contempt, eyes like pine needles narrowed in disgust. You will always fail.
T’zuman shook his head, long silver hair shining even as the darkness washed over all of them. Years of effort wasted on thee. Thee does nothing that I say.
Her stomach lurched.
Meg shook herself, took another deep breath, and pushed herself down the corridor. She found the stairwell and slowly descended.
How was it possible she could remember speaking to Velanna and T’zuman so clearly when Mickey said she’d been unconscious?
Maybe Velanna and T’zuman have found a way to yell at me in my dreams. She rolled her eyes. I hope not. Her stomach tightened. Or maybe I can see the future now and the lecture hasn’t happened yet. She grunted. But that’s not exactly a newsflash. It’s Velanna. Lectures are inevitable.
The towering oak door of Velanna’s library came into view, and Meg rested against it for a moment, detecting the quiet murmur of voices behind it.
Velanna spoke with the quiet, lilting accent of Celtica, harsher on some consonants than others, true with her vowels, pronunciation efficient and precise.
The tired mumble of Jim Taylor’s response drew a sigh of relief from Meg as she stood in the hallway. His voice wasn’t deep, not like Tolan’s had been, but his tone had that same calming quality. Gentle and firm in equal measure.
Meg turned the doorknob, and her wrist complained at the motion. She grit her teeth and pushed the door open.
Maybe with Jim present, Velanna would hold back on her criticisms.
The warm light inside the library spilled out into the hallway as she opened the door. The hinges creaked under the pressure of the heavy oak. The murmured voices paused.
“Meg.” Jim’s breathless tone made her stomach tighten.
“Margaret.” Velanna pinned her with her fierce teal-green eyes.
The two of them stood at either end of a long trestle table loaded with dusty tomes. The air in the library tasted ancient, like parchment and ink and mysteries.
You will always fail. Velanna’s voice echoed in her mind, certain and relentless. Like she believed it. Loud enough to rattle her eardrums.
Meg had just closed the door when Velanna was embracing her in a flurry of dark colored linens and beads. Meg went rigid against Velanna’s chest, the strong arms surrounding her in a fierce hold. Velanna’s hand nestled at the nape of Meg’s neck. Her arm curled around Meg’s lower back, holding her in place, mumbled Celtican prayers of gratitude whispered in Meg’s ear.
Meg blinked in surprise.
Okay. Hugs now?
The lecture would have been more in character. Or distance, at least. Distance had become a thing lately.
Velanna stepped back, cupping Meg’s face in her hands as she turned her head from side to side, still muttering in Celtican, sharp eyes scanning for injuries.
“You should not be out of bed,” Velanna said softly.
Meg started to speak and closed her mouth.
Am I actually awake for this? Maybe this is the dream because Velanna wasn’t this huggy with me when Tolan was here.
Slowly, like fog creeping over a pasture at the change of the seasons, Velanna’s worried expression hardened into something clinical. Her sharp eyes focused on Meg’s face, on her shoulders, on the tension in her arms.
“Tell me what has happened.”
There she is.
The hard face. The cold expression. The eviscerating scowl. This was the Velanna she’d been expecting. This was the Velanna she could deal with.
“I think I’m losing my mind,” Meg admitted.
“Explain.” Velanna didn’t move her hands, fingers still pressing into Meg’s shoulders.
You will never succeed, Margaret. You will always fail.
Meg hissed at the volume of the words and winced. Every word felt like it tore a new gash in her soul. The strike of the cruel words battered against her heart.
Velanna released her, scowling. “What has happened?” This time in Celtican.
Meg straightened herself and addressed Velanna with as much coldness as she could muster. “We already had a conversation, Velanna.” Speaking without feelings when your insides are boiling over with all the feelings was a skill she’d learned as a much younger person. “You and T’zuman and I already spoke.”
“Calm yourself, Margaret. You are speaking in riddles.”
Meg fought the urge to roll her eyes.
So maybe her tone hadn’t been as emotionless as she’d hoped. She’d learned how to speak without emotion. Didn’t mean she’d mastered it.
Jim’s chair squeaked against the floor tiles as he stood up, his face a motley array of bruises and scrapes.
“Is T’zuman here?” Meg turned her gaze back to Velanna.
“No, Great Master T’zuman has not been here.” Velanna said placidly, although she emphasized the Andai Sage’s title in a passive aggressive reminder that Meg always forgot her manners. “And we have not spoken since before Chandan Village, Margaret.”
Meg held her gaze. “Then why do I remember us having a conversation?”
Velanna’s face twitched. “Of what did we speak?”
“Your disappointment in me.”
Another twitch.
Jim shifted uncomfortably.
Yes, awkward. Welcome to life with a Celtican.
Velanna took her elbow. “Come. Sit.”
Meg allowed the Celtican to lead her to a chair and guide her into it.
“I do not believe you are recovered well enough to be out of bed, Margaret,” Velanna muttered.
Sighing, Meg relaxed into the chair. “There isn’t time to recover. Jenny and Barb are gone.”
Jim sucked in a deep breath, barring his teeth.
“Yes.” Velanna knelt at Meg’s knee with the rustle of her robes.
Meg rested her hands on her lap, clenching her fingers into fists. “Velanna what was it? I couldn’t do anything. Nothing worked.”
“No.”
“Dragons.” Meg pinned her adoptive mother with a wide-eyed stare. “The Centaurs had dragons.”
Velanna cast a glance up at Jim, who hovered at the side of Meg’s chair with a worried look behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
“Yes,” Velanna said. “My people call them gaja.”
“You’ve seen them before.” Meg narrowed her eyes.
Great job, Mitchell. Accuse her. That will make having an honest conversation much easier.
“Not since the Great War.” Velanna stood and walked to the table, sliding a heavy book with a leather binding under the light of a lamp. “Bred by the High Houses of the North for combat, the young are lethal by the age of five days.”
Velanna’s words settled.
“The North,” Meg repeated. “They come from the North?”
“Yeah.” Jim finally spoke and cleared his throat. “There isn’t much information here specifically, but there’s enough—and Velanna remembers.”
Velanna leaned against the table. “Do you recall the name of the Centaur homeland, Margaret? From our studies?”
“Mtufarasi.”
“Yes.” Velanna rubbed the bandages wrapped around her arm. “I thought the gajas extinct, but apparently I was incorrect.”
Apparently. Meg scoffed. “How did they even get down here?” She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to reach the aching in her brain. “I think we would have gotten reports of them trying to fly over the Forbidden Mountains.”
“Mtufarasi is far away, Margaret.” Velanna folded her arms. “This is not an attack from them. It is my assumption that an Outcast is responsible.”
“The Centaurs in the North use the peninsula as a prison colony, right?” Jim rested his elbow on Meg’s chair. “That’s our theory. They exiled someone, and he brought the dragons with him.”
It made sense.
“That would explain the attack then,” Meg muttered. “It was organized. We didn’t see it coming. T’pau can’t organize a sock drawer.”
Velanna chuckled wryly. “Yes,if this newcomer is indeed of the aristocracy, he will not be satisfied with remaining in the Mountain of Fire. He will seek to control other lands. It is their way.”
Meg took a long, deep breath. “And the weapon?”
“Weapon?”
“The shadow?”
Velanna glanced at Jim briefly. “Yes, James and Michelle and Daniel—the remaining Josharons who were in the field—all spoke of a shadow.”
Meg scowled. “You didn’t see it?”
“Tzaitel and I, along with several yodha, were engaged within the sandalwood grove,” Velanna said. “We saw nothing but the Centaurs we fought.”
So the shadow the was localized. It had only affected the people within a certain range. Meg bit her lip and looked up at Jim. “Did you—see anything? Or hear anything?”
“I saw the shadow,” Jim shrugged. “It felt cold.”
“But did you see things?”
Jim leaned back in his chair. “No. But I wasn’t as close to it as you were. Nobody was except Barb and Jenny.”
Meg ran her hands into her hair and found it matted and tangled, the long braid dangling past her waist. Good grief. She must look like a wild shukah. No wonder Jim kept glancing at her with that expression of concern.
At least, she assumed it was concern. She hadn’t really learned his expressions yet.
“Margaret.” Returned to Meg’s knees and knelt once more.
Oh, boy, here we go.
“What did you see?” Velanna’s displeasure was palpable. “And hear?”
Meg folded her hands in her lap. “I told you. I saw you and T’zuman. You were—” Her voice broke in spite of her efforts to keep it steady. “I had lost my saber, and you told me how disappointed you were with me.”
Twitch, twitch went Velanna’s granite face.
Oh. Meg let her shoulders slope. Right. Silly me. She let herself smile wryly. Losing my saber is just the final disappointment. There was already plenty to go around before this.
“This conversation has not happened, Margaret.” Velanna’s scowl felt like skin tearing. “Even if it had, it would not have been at Chandan Village. T’zuman was not there.”
Meg flared her nostrils. Great Master T’zuman, you mean?
With the rustling of her robes, Velanna stood.
She was right, of course. The disciplinary lectures only ever took place at T’zuman’s training pit or in the privacy of their rooms at Prism Castle. Never when anyone else could overhear. Those who hadn’t trained wouldn’t understand. Those who didn’t know would hear only criticism.
Although, I know what’s happening, and it still sounds like mostly criticism. But maybe that’s just me.
Velanna rocked back on her heels and folded her arms across her chest as she walked the length of the table, face turned toward the tops of the tall bookshelves.
Jim sighed and pulled his glasses off, setting them on the table before rubbing his eyes. “My question is why.”
“Why attack?” Meg glanced at him and laughed. “Jim, you’re new here, so you don’t know this. But Centaurs like attacking things. I think it’s their happy place.”
“But why would they take Jenny? Why would they take Barb?” Jim bent over a leather-bound tome on the table and shut it in a puff of dust.
“If this is a noble from Mtufarasi, perhaps they will attempt a negotiation,” Velanna said softly. “Outcast Centaurs do not negotiate. But it was a common practice among the nobles of Mtufarasi centuries ago.”
Jim sank to the floor on the other side of Meg’s chair, falling silent as he pressed his weight against the chair leg.
Meg watched the old Celtican woman shift her weight back and forth at the end of the table. Velanna never fidgeted, and to see her staring toward the ceiling without an indication of actually seeing it was—odd.
Velanna turned sharply and pinned Meg with a fierce green stare. “Margaret, I require you to be direct.”
Meg raised her eyebrows. “Okay?”
That might not be the best idea. The last time I was direct with you, you made me do laps for a month.
“You often struggle with the control of your emotions.”
No, really? How could you tell?
“You have improved over the years, although you require far more experience.”
Thanks, Velanna. If you want me to be direct with you, this is a great way to start.
Velanna leaned on the edge of the table and stared at her. “Describe the darkness you saw.”
Meg sighed. “It was—a shadow.”
“This is not concise.”
Meg rolled her eyes.
“Do not make faces, Margaret.”
“What else do you want me to say?”
“Was it tangible?”
Meg sat forward in the chair. “Like could I feel it?”
“That is the essential definition of tangibility, Margaret. Pay attention.”
“Fine.” Meg raised her hands. “Yes. I could feel it. I felt it wrap around my ankles like, I don’t know. Like fingers.”
“How can a shadow have fingers?” Jim scowled.
Velanna’s face lost a shade of color. “Describe the experience within it.”
“Awful.”
“Concisely, Margaret.”
Meg threw her hands in the air. “It hurt.”
“More concisely.”
“It felt like being skinned and electrocuted at the same time,” Meg huffed. “Burned alive. It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt.”
At her knee, Jim had gone gray.
“And the vision?” Velanna flared her nostrils.
“What vision?”
“Margaret,” Velanna spoke in her most placating tone, “you experienced a vision within the shadow. Once you were freed from its grip, you believed something had happened that did not happen.”
Oh, the conversation that wasn’t actually a conversation.
Meg blew her breath out.
“Something within the shadow affected your mind,” Velanna said quietly. “So powerfully that what it showed you remained with you as truth.”
“How?” Meg gasped. “How could anything do that? And how could the Centaurs have a weapon like that?”
No color remained in Velanna’s face. She didn’t answer. She folded her arms and glanced to the side.
The library door banged open, and Danny hurried inside. His left arm was wrapped to the shoulder in bandages, and the scratches on his face made it look like someone had connected the dots of his freckles.
“Daniel?” Velanna stiffened.
“It’s the Josharon High Council,” Danny said, out of breath. “They’ve called a vote on whether or not we attack Centaur Mount.”