Page 194 of The Black Witch

He silently leads me around the pens and past the kitchen gardens. Then up a long, sloping field toward a ramshackle structure set just inside the wilds.

The abandoned barn is huge, enveloped in the evening’s lengthening shadows. The door creaks as he opens it for me, and I step inside.

The barn’s ceiling is impossibly high with crisscrossing rafters. Bats flit back and forth, the lamplight illuminating them as they cast frenetic shadows on the walls.

“Is this your secret hideout?” I ask teasingly, glancing around as Yvan sets his lamp down on a dusty barrel.

Yvan nods, watching me as he leans back against a thick support beam.

I muster a small smile and he lifts his lips slightly in response, but the intensity of his gaze doesn’t waver.

The shadows play across his face, highlighting his stark, angular appearance. A tremor runs through me, heightening my awareness that I’m alone with him in a very secluded place.

Ignoring the breathless pull I feel toward him, I look at him levelly. “I want to help you free your dragon,” I say, steel in my voice. “There may come a time when flight is needed.”

Yvan’s eyes fly open with surprise, but he quickly gathers himself. “Elloren, my dragon can’t be freed.”

“Maybe not by you alone, but we have a large group...”

He coughs out a dismissive laugh. “Of inexperienced, naive youths.”

“Of people with a large variety of gifts and skills.”

“There’s a big difference between stealing a Selkie from the University groundskeeper and freeing a Gardnerian military dragon.”

Frustration flares in me. “What’s the harm in letting everyone...have a look at the situation?”

“Besides getting arrested and shot? None that I can think of, really.”

I press on, undaunted. “If that dragon can be saved...the Icarals might be able to go east. And others, too.”

He stands there for a moment, looking stunned by my words. “I don’t understand you,” he says, his expression going harsh. “Why are you even thinking about this? You’re a Gardnerian. And not just any Gardnerian...you’re Carnissa Gardner’sgranddaughter. Your grandmother...” He pauses, as if angry and struggling to find the right words all at the same time. “She was...amonster.”

My back goes up at the word. How was my grandmother different from any other successful military leader of any race? “She was wrong about many things,” I counter, “but she was also a great Mage...”

“Who killed thousands and thousands of people.” His angular jaw tightens, his green eyes boring into me.

“Your people were just as monstrous to the Gardnerians when they were in power,” I challenge.

He glares at me as if struggling with strong emotion. “Yourgrandmother,” he grinds out, an unexpected fury breaking out around the edges of his words, “was responsible for the death of myfather!”

Oh,Ancient One. I’m stunned into silence. But only for a moment. Pain seeps through me and quickly morphs into outrage.

“Your people,” I counter, my voice breaking, “killedbothof my parents!”

We’re silent for a long moment, the constant, raw ache we both carry around suddenly unguarded and fully exposed.

“I know my grandmother did a lot of terrible things,” I finally say with no small amount of effort. “Since coming here, I’ve learned that my people do a lot of really terrible things. But don’t you think it’s possible for someone to be different from everything you’ve heard about their kind? Even if they look...like I do?”

Yvan takes a deep breath, his eyes intent on my face. “Yes,” he says, “I think it’s possible.”

I let out a long sigh and slump down on a hay bale, defeated. “I’m trying, Yvan,” I tell him hoarsely. “I really am. I want to do the right thing.”

“I believe you,” he says, and there’s kindness in his tone.

We’re quiet for a few minutes, just staring at each other.

“I’m sorry you lost your parents,” he finally tells me, his voice low.

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