Chapter thirty - three - Your destiny without doom

A killer, weak, coward, they are a few of the words circling my mind with what had occurred back at the dungeons. I want to throw up. I want to erase it, but I can't.

And telling Freya everything from the deal with Ivarron to Darius and the necklace caused stiffening tension to roam the heavy air. She'd listened attentively to every word, watched how I scrubbed at my hands for the blood to come off and how I needed to see Leira. A witch, a friend of my father, and someone who believes his death was no accident.

I glance down at the herbal tea, Leira had placed when I rushed inside amidst the herds of drunken people. The strong whiffs of lavender steam off the cup and ripples as I take a sip. Freya stands in the corner, resting against the wooden walls, and bites her nails in rumination. She'd not said anything after I told her. We'd arrived at Leira's by the time she could have tried to respond.

"Trying to get ahead of the queen can easily go wrong Nara, you saw what she did to you today." Leira sighs, shaking her head, almost too angry at what I'd said.

I place the cup on the table. "She might be the reason my father died." I'd chosen to believe otherwise, and still, certain things don't add up. A dragon killed him. Whether it's pure coincidence or she threatened him too then, I'm at loose ends. "And... she knew about Dar—" I stop myself. "The Golden Thief."

"But from what you've explained, she wanted your loyalty at all costs—"

"No, she wanted to see me vulnerable." I realize the words came out testy. I take another sip—gulp it more like.

Leira's hazel gaze tunes into sympathy, and she clutches my hand as I set the tea again. The candle wax melts between us, and flames flicker onto her deep bronze skin. "It's not your fault."

My eyes sting, and I begin to think it's the candle burning them. When I speak, my voice is a weak whisper, "If I hadn't helped the Golden Thief—"

"If," she cuts in. "You hadn't helped him. She would have still found a way."

I sag against the chair, exhaling deeply. Sneaking a glance at Freya, I see her staring at a grimoire with such fascination. By the other side of the room, Aelle, Leira's wife, cuts up fresh flowers, placing them in jars. I remember Leira mentioned they both resided in a cottage outside of the city. Maybe that was their escape from this.

"Do you still see the Golden Thief?" Leira's question makes me look at her.

"No, I don't. I'm not sure I'll ever see him again." I frown, eyeing the candle. Seeing him means he's a step closer to getting caught, especially after Noctura. As infuriating as it sounds, he's right; I no longer want him captured. He helped my brothers. However, it doesn't mean I've stopped my dislike for him—

I straighten on my chair as a thought materializes itself, and I peg Leira with my stare. "There was a shifter there, in the dungeons. He—he'd looked at me, and maybe—maybe he knows more than anyone."

A slight crease forms on Leira's eyebrows, and her lips pucker to the side. "Why would she keep him in the dungeons? What purpose does that shifter serve for her?"

That's what I'd questioned when I was down there.

"Because she's likely to use him for the trials." Freya's voice cuts across the room, and Leira and I turn our heads to her. It's the first she's spoken since we left the barracks. She averts her gaze, nerves leaping out of her as she fiddles with the hook of her cloak. "I heard my father speaking to Soren—another Venator of how the trials were to be set harder this time. With only less than a month for it, I'd imagine that could be why he's there. Whenever they've caught shifters, they've usually always been sentenced to death. I imagine that would be the same if they caught the Golden Thief."

"No," I immediately say. I'm quick to recall what the queen mentioned at the dining table. "She thinks he can lead her to where most if not all shifters reside." When I look at Leira, her eyes are on Freya, analyzing her just as I'd seen earlier. It is no judgment but still hard to read what she's thinking.

"And I suppose you want to speak to the shifter down there," she says pointedly, dragging her gaze from Freya.

"It's a start." it doesn't take much to know that was my intention. However, Leira's ability to read emotions likely helped with how much desperation is reeling off me.

"It's also dangerous."

"Anything can be dangerous, Leira."

I've risked a lot by now. If talking to the shifter gains me access to whatever secrets lie beyond Emberwell and the queen, then I'm willing to drop what I once believed in. What I once believed my future could be.

Leira sighs heavily, and the chair creaks as she rests her back against it. She can see there's no chance of convincing me not to go. I imagine that makes her think of my father as she looks at the table with a soft reminiscent smile. Out of my brothers and me, I am the only one that takes after my father the most. It was never just the hair or specific features. We both always followed our curiosities until it got us in trouble, and we craved a fearless passion that drove us to adventures.

I want to mention him again, ask more of what he spoke about before his passing, but Leira, without a word, gets off the chair and walks to a shelf on the side, riffling through jars of all kinds.

Bracing my hands on the table, I rise, trying to gather what she's doing. Her thick curls bounce as she tips toes to reach something, and with a victorious hum, she turns towards me.

"Here." Her voice sounds breathless as she passes a vial containing black dust. "It's ash from the Helland volcanoes, if the shifter is in any pain, this will help, and in return, you can gain answers from him."

I smile in appreciation, unable to get a thanks out as I look down at the vial. Once I'd ran out of here, not trusting what Leira had told me, yet circumstances had changed.

And remembering that shifter, the eyes close to the color of this ash, I picture his tattoos, two spirals meaning an Umbrati. "Leira?" I run my thumb over the glass and glance up at her with the first question I've been dying to know. "What does it mean if a shifter bears no tattoos?"

I'm not sure what comes first, the jerk of her head or the rapid blinking. "That's... that's strange."

"Why?"

"Because it means twin witches performed magic to remove them."

"Twin witches?" Freya suddenly exclaims with a frown but quickly steps back. Her reaction is exact to mine. My extent of knowledge within witches isn't as vast, but I'd not thought it could be that.

"We haven't heard of any twins in a while." Leira nibbles on her bottom lip. "It's dangerous and forbidden as they are the strongest among us, only they can remove shifter tattoos, but it's painful. And unless there is a particular reason for it, witches won't just remove it willingly."

My eyes narrow into a frown. What must have Darius's reasons been to remove them? "So, it's uncommon?"

"Extremely," she says. "If a witch is even to give birth to twins now, one is likely to be taken away."

I wince at the horrible truth before Aelle approaches us and rests her hand on Leira's back. Her auburn locks are plaited with similar crystals to Leira gracing it as it drapes over her shoulder. "We should head back now before it gets late," she says to Leira and shoots me a warm smile.

Leira nods, affection glistening on her features as Aelle walks off, bidding us goodbye. I grip harder onto the vial and then put it away into my sheath once Leira looks at me. Her brows draw together, and it's like she's struggling to bring this up or not, but then she says softly, "Nara... do you remember the last time you were here, what I'd said before you left?"

An unknown force falls deep in me, but I feel it with each heavy breath. The haunting lullaby she sang to me. I've not forgotten it since that day.

The sun blooms again, for she has found her moon,

Death reign and resurrection commence,

But he who shall bear thy wicked bite,

A beast no less, though a heart of gold...

Distantly, I nod at Leira, still remembering how I'd yanked my arm away before she could finish.

"Well, sometimes," she says, low and timid as she creeps forward. "And not often we have visions, but unlike a seer, we tend to forget it quite quickly." Sighing, she adds, "What I want to say is fate is a hard thing to temper with, and what I saw might be long forgotten, but the words that remained have not stopped repeating itself inside my mind." She latches onto my gaze. "The one to bear the tides and stars is your path Nara... your destiny without doom." Her fingers splay across my heart, and I know my breathing has stilled. "The key to freedom."

Stunned into silence, I stare at her as she withdraws her hand and wishes me good luck with the shifter. I'm trying to make out a word, a sentence, anything normal but Freya's beginning to tug me by the arm into the tavern. We dodge the flying tankards and make it outside, where the narrow streets and buildings hide the evening sun.

I root myself to the floor just by the doors and stand behind Freya as she glances at the busy streets ahead. Her hand on her hips makes me want to wince. With what Leira had said just then and what I'd spewed out to Freya today, I suspect she will be mad.

"Freya, I—" I start, but she whirls to face me and raises her hand.

"Look, I still don't understand much of anything but... I know that I can't stand one more single dragon fight or killing, I—" She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes then opening. "For the longest time I've not felt like I belonged there being what my father wants me to be, I'd rather escape it; therefore I just want you to know I'm on your side, for anything and if it means helping you talk to this shifter then I'll do whatever it takes—"

I throw my arms around her before she can finish, sending her tumbling a few steps back. "Thank you," I whisper and close my eyes because I never knew how much I needed her support.

A friend, loyal and brave whom I'd never had in my life.

She smiles as we separate, and her arm hooks under mine. "Who knows, maybe helping you might be my true calling." We bump our heads together in amusement, finally moving. "Now I need you to guide me through everything again because how on Solaris almighty did you form a friendship with the Golden Thief?"

I chuckle quietly. "It's not a friendship. It's more hatred and a strong desire to scratch his face and watch him cry over it."

Freya stops, turning me to look at her widened gaze. "That's quite specific."

"Exactly." My smile is psychotic. "Now come on, the Draggard's isn't safe to be in, and we've been gone too long—shit."

My legs stop working as I spot unmistakable copper hair, armor, and the eyes of strength and green thread.

Freya tries to get me to move, but it's like I'm weighed down by pillars as Lorcan notices us and strolls through the crowded pathways. "Nara." He nods at me then looks to my right. "Freya. What are you both doing here?"

"We could ask you the same thing." Freya's grip on my arm tightens.

Lorcan's lip twitches enough to hint at a smile over Freya's interrogatory tone. "Some are reporting a possible shifter around here."

"Right, that makes sense," Freya mutters to herself. Luckily Lorcan doesn't notice my eyes growing wide as I wonder if that possible shifter refers to Archer. The queen knew it was Darius, whom I danced with at the ball, but I don't think she's mentioned it to anyone.

"Any luck?" I ask, hoping to mask my apprehension.

"Not yet." He glances behind him at three other Venators eyeing each person—likely witches—with disgust. I almost crumble and have the urge to treat them the same, even if I am training to be one.

"Well," Freya chimes in, her throat straining as she's able to jerk me with her. "We should go, training and whatnot—"

"I was hoping I could talk to you?" Lorcan doesn't move from his position, staring at me, only me.

My eyes slide to the crest on his chest, a dragon wrapped in flames. A sting vertebrates through my heart, and though I want to shake my head to rid the memory of the Ardenti, I simply can't.

I look at Freya. Her face is in a half grimace of worry before I nod at her to make sure it's fine.

She clears her throat, flitting her gaze between Lorcan and me. "I will—I will wait for you over there."

I'm struck with silence as Freya leaves, and putting on a mask of coolness, I ask, "Have I done something wrong?"

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "Formalities seem to return fast for you, don't they?"

I keep my face neutral, and a flicker inside me regrets it.

Defeated, he sighs. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

The calming front fails me, my shoulders droop, and I rush to place that impassive wall back up. Lorcan, from the start, has shown how much he cares for me, but how can I tell him nothing is okay. How can I say it without mentioning everything that's happened? He's killed hundreds of dragons, spoken of fledglings, while I can't bear the idea of what I did today.

"Other than feeling hungry, I'm..." I lie trailing off as he looks at my hands, and I mildly panic, wondering if I hadn't gotten all the blood off, but when I drop my eyes to them, I realize he's noticed I don't have my glove on. I'd not worn it this morning. In truth, it'd slipped my mind. Hiding it with my cloak, I force a smile. "I'm doing great for someone who will face the Venator trials soon enough."

With a vague frown, he lifts his eyes at me. "As a favorite contender to pass it all."

My stomach churns, and desperately I want to touch my chest to soothe my heartbeat. His words sound like he's convinced compared to the way he's staring at me.

Thinking the longer he looks at me, I'll give away everything I feel towards the trials, I head past him. "I should get back to Freya."

His arm quickly covers my midriff at the side of him, wrapping around it and stopping me from walking any further. A touch so scolding that through my leather attire, it heats up, and I look at him. His gaze is resolute as he says, "If anything is ever wrong, Nara, you can always tell me."

Everything is wrong.

And perhaps he can see that, see through me even if I was always the person who hid my emotions well. But I can't tell him now. He's the second in command, a Venator who's served for years. Why would he side with me?

"I know," I say, quiet while removing his hand. I know he doesn't believe me as I part from him and walk off, not turning even though I can feel his gaze following my every step.