Hidden (24 page)

23

S
natches of light drift in and out, fracturing the dark, offering hope one second and then bleak nothingness the next. Voices rumble past like distant thunder, so close I can almost understand, almost make out the words.

But it’s impossible to concentrate when all my world is pain.

“She’s not going to make it …”

“Don’t say that. Never say that.” Wincing, I turn toward the sound of this voice, knowing it on an instinctive level even when I can’t arrive at the name. Can’t form it in my head. Because I can’t
think
… only feel.

Then, like the fading of a morning mist, the voices die away. Everything vanishes. Including me.

Pain brings me back. Every time I open my eyes it’s to this anguish, blinding me to all else. It’s the only thing that convinces me I’m still alive.

Faces flash. Hands hold me down. None of it registers. None of it sinks into me like the burning torment of my body. The agony radiates through all of me. The heat … even the heat is too much for me.

The only thing I can do is surrender to the blanket of dark where I feel nothing, see nothing. Where even nightmares cannot find me. No pride. No hunters. Nothing.

Where I can cease to exist.

Whispers become louder in my ears—grow into real, actual voices. Words and not slivers of dreams. They coax me back to the living. Become more than ghostly sounds that overlap in my head.

I recognize them. Nidia. Tamra.

Tamra!
She’s alive. Like a balm to my wounds, this knowledge fortifies me.

And there’s another voice I more than recognize. A voice I know deep in every pore, in my soul—Will’s.

“Will,” I rasp, trying to lift my head, questions buzzing through me.

I hear the smile in his voice, the joy. “Welcome back, Jacinda.”

I blink slowly, opening my eyes to a shadowy world. Blurry faces are there, but before I can focus on them I have to close my eyes against the sudden dizziness that assaults me.

I open my mouth and shut it again at the scratchy dryness. A cup is pressed upon me and I drink greedily, ignoring the tart tang of verda root lacing the water. As the cup leaves my lips, I turn my head. A cool touch brushes my cheek, and it’s only then that I realize I’m lying flat on my stomach, my left cheek against the cool sheet of a mattress.

I reopen my eyes again and find the world is no longer spinning. “Hunters … Tamra …,” I get out, the fear still there, a fresh wound. For me, it was only moments ago that I fought for my life, the life of my sister and friends … Will …

Tamra’s voice comes to me again. More than a whisper this time. “I’m okay, Jacinda. The bullet just grazed me. Bled a lot, but nothing more. Nidia patched me up.”

“The hunters are gone,” Nidia’s voice reassures me. “We moved them miles away. They’ll have no memory of what happened. I saw to that.”

Relief eases through me. I fight to clear the last of the fuzziness from my vision, and when I do, it’s to see the person I’ve been longing for.
Will
.

I just manage to sigh his name before Nidia’s drink takes hold of me and drags me back under.

“Jacinda, you have visitors.” The voice pulls me from my light doze. I open my eyes and slowly turn my head.

I’d fallen back asleep shortly after my reunion with Will and Tamra. After Nidia forced some broth down me. Once I had been assured that Will, Tamra, Cassian, and Deghan were all safe, it had been a relief to sink back into sleep without any lurking worry. Except for Miram, we all made it. And at the moment no one in the pride seemed intent on destroying Will. Double bonus. I could sleep free of fear … I’m not sure when I last felt that way.

I’d rolled onto my back. The pressure wasn’t too terrible and it felt good to shift positions. I glance at Will in a chair to my right and Nidia standing over me. I nod at her as I maneuver myself carefully into a sitting position, mindful of my still-tender back. Nidia quickly rearranges the pillows behind me.

“Are you up to it?” Will asks, setting down the book he’s been reading on the bed.

I nod, even though I’m unsure what
it
is.

Footsteps march across Nidia’s floors outside the bedroom. I run fingers through my matted hair, wishing for a mirror and then deciding it’s best that I don’t know what I look like.

As the elders clear the threshold one by one, I hold my breath, expecting to see Severin, but he never enters the room. And then I guess that shouldn’t be so surprising, after all. He just learned his daughter died … at the hands of his sister. Even if he wanted to continue on in his role as alpha, I’m not sure he could. Even if he was emotionally capable of it, the crimes of his sister would no doubt overshadow him.

The last to step inside is Cassian, and my suspicions are confirmed. If Cassian is here, he must have taken Severin’s place.

My breath catches. He’s undoubtedly proven himself. He will make a much better leader. And it explains why Will is unharmed. My gaze roves over Cassian’s tall form. He looks healed. No sign of injuries. The last time I saw him he was busy killing hunters as fast as he could. To avenge Miram. I feel a pang in my chest at the thought of her murder. I play with the edge of the sheet, wanting to say something … stretch out a hand and touch him, ease the answering pain that reaches me through our bond, threatening to consume me. His expression reveals nothing, but he can’t hide his grief. Not from me.

“Jacinda, we’ve come to ask for your accounting.”

My gaze darts between Will and Cassian. “You haven’t heard it all yet?”

The elder who spoke inclines his head. “We have received reports on Miram’s death from your sister, the draki who calls himself Deghan, and Corbin. But we need to hear from you.” Corbin? Did he speak the truth? I assess each of the elders’ faces, trying to gauge their thoughts.

“I witnessed Jabel kill Miram and then throw her in the river.” I moisten my lips and glance at Cassian, hating to say words that I know must pain him. But not saying them won’t make it less true. Sucking in a breath, I add, “She did it without blinking an eye.”

A muscle flickers in Cassian’s cheek. Otherwise, he shows no outward sign that my words affect him. He gives no hint as to the rage and grief that surge inside him. But I feel it. My breath escapes in a hiss between my teeth and I clench my hand in the sheets as I battle the onslaught of emotions.

“I don’t think she’s up to this,” Nidia interjects, sending a reproving look at all the elders, lingering on Cassian the longest. She knows what’s really bothering me—that Cassian’s emotions are crippling me.

“She said the same thing we all did,” Will comments.

“Even Corbin,” Nidia says pointedly, surprising me. Corbin told the truth? If Jabel’s own son implicated her, they have no reason to doubt our version of events. Not with Corbin corroborating it.

“We have what we wanted. Let’s leave her. She needs her rest,” Cassian announces.

Everyone files from the room except Cassian. He hesitates, adjusting his weight from foot to foot. “I’m glad you’re all right.” I notice his hands shut into fists at his sides. “I should have been there for you.” His gaze slides to Will, and I know he’s thinking that Will was there. He gives him a slight nod, acknowledging this.

“You don’t owe me an apology.”

“Yeah, well, I’m glad Will and Tamra were with you.”

“That was the plan when we agreed for you to go into the pride. We would stay behind and wait. I knew the risks coming back here. None of us—” I stop abruptly just before saying no one got hurt. We lost Miram. My eyes sting at the reminder. It shouldn’t have happened but it did. “I’m so sorry about Miram, Cassian.”

The vertical pupils vibrate with the magnitude of his pain. “I shouldn’t have left her—”

“No, I should have protected her better. You left her with me—”

He shakes his head. “She was my responsibility. I failed her.”

“Your own aunt killed her.” Nidia’s voice is soothing and firm at the same time. “Just as we’re all sure she is the one who betrayed Magnus. There’s not much you can do when you’re in bed with a serpent and don’t know it.”

Cassian nods, but I know he’s unconvinced. He’ll forever suffer guilt for his sister’s death.

He inches toward the door. “I’ll come by later.”

Part of me wants to ask him to stay, but then I’ll have to endure all his emotions, terrible as they are right now. Selfish or not, I’d rather he go.

I smile tentatively as his gaze sweeps over me propped up in the bed. And in that look, I know he senses my hope. For me, for himself, he’ll stay away.

Will looks nervous as we take the first step outside Nidia’s cottage into the swirl of mist.

“Stop looking so worried,” I say, bumping him lightly with my hip. Not too strongly. I wouldn’t want to lose my balance and fall over.

“Seeing as you only just woke up today and can barely walk, I’m the one who’s going to get into trouble if we get caught.”

“Then hurry before Nidia notices I’m missing.”

One arm around my waist, Will takes the bulk of my weight and guides me through the township, following my directions north through the town center and then west, past houses toward the burial grounds.

I inhale deeply the night’s cool, loamy air, letting it feed my spirit. I feel the burial grounds before they come into sight. The songs of the dead reach me through the stones that bear their imprint. We pass through a screen of pines until we reach the clearing … where all draki are laid to rest. Gems of every variety cover the ground—some on the surface and some buried, nestled deep in the earth and ashes of draki long since passed. They glow, coloring the night, suffusing the air in a rainbow of muted shades.

Will gasps beside me.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I murmur.

“I—I …,” he stammers.

“You feel them,” I supply.

He blinks several times, overcome. A feeling I understand. They’re here. All of them.
Miram, too
. The memory of every draki, whether I knew them or not, lingers here. Their energy crackles on the air and reaches deep inside me.

“Dad needs to be here,” I say. “Tam and I will have to pick a stone … leave it for him.” It’s hard uttering these words. Without proof of his death, without his ashes, we’d never considered doing such a thing before. But the time has come.

Will nods in agreement, his expression solemn. “You should do that.”

The gems wink from their earthen beds. One in particular catches my gaze. A topaz. Miram’s gemstone. I breathe her name. There are several topazes in the graveyard of ash and jewels … but this one speaks to me, calls to me as if it were Miram herself. And I can’t help thinking it might be.

I blink burning eyes. My legs suddenly give out and Will catches me, swings me up in his arms.

“I’m sorry.” I weep into his shoulder, loathing that I should be so weak. After everything, shouldn’t I be tougher than this? Immune to such loss?

“Don’t apologize.” He eases us down, holding me like a child in his arms and crooning nonsense in my ear. His hand is strong and firm at my back. His touch moves to my head, strokes my hair. “She deserves to be remembered … and missed.”

I hiccup through my tears. “We set out to save her … and she ended up dead anyway.” The reality of it only makes the grief that much more bitter. “One of us murdered her … not the enkros or hunters. A draki. Her own aunt killed her. And my dad.”

I beat my fist on the ground, striking a gemstone, the edge of which cuts my hand. I hiss. Shimmering blood, almost black in the night, the purple hue undetectable, wells up on my skin. Will mutters a curse and uses his shirt to dab it clean.

“Hey, be careful. You’re injured enough,” he chides, pulling my head down to his shoulder, and I spend myself, crying not over the pain in my hand but the pain in my heart.

“I’ve soaked your shirt,” I point out, plucking at the wet fabric stretching over his shoulder.

“And bloodied it,” he mock accuses.

I sniff and smile, smoothing a hand over his shoulder. We’re quiet for some moments, sitting together in the gemlight.

“What’d they do to her?” I ask, and clarify, in case he mistakes my meaning, “Jabel.”

He sighs. “There was to be a trial …”

“Was?”

“According to Nidia, she knew what the outcome would be.”

My heart thumps faster. “The sentence would be death.” For what she did … pride justice would be swift and merciless. “Nothing less than she deserved for gutting her own niece like she was garbage to be discarded.” I shake my head, aware that I sound hard, but on this matter I don’t care. “I’ll never forget the image of Miram being flung into that water.”

Will holds me closer. “Jabel escaped before they could—”

“She got away then,” I state, the words hard as I think about her. Out there. Unpunished. For Miram. For Dad.

“She’ll hardly be happy, Jacinda. All alone among humans. She’s not you. She killed to protect this life.” He motions around us. “Now she’s lost it.”

It’s not enough. “Forgive me if I fail to feel satisfied. I still think execution would be better.”

“You’re going to have to let it go.” He brushes the hair back from my cheek. “Don’t you think there’s been enough bloodshed?” The sentiment echoes my own not that long ago, and I fall quiet, pensive, unable to argue the point.

Will reaches for my hand and laces our fingers so that I feel the thud of his pulse. His hazel eyes search mine, trying to see inside me. Almost like he’s concerned I’ve come out of all this damaged … or maybe just the girl I used to be. A girl who’s on a mission to save everyone—without room enough in her life for him because she’s busy seeking justice that’s not always there to be had.

I cover our linked hands with my free one and lean forward, hungry to reach him, touch him—be as close as I can get. And leave the old Jacinda behind.