Page 142 of What Blooms from Death

Silence threatened once more, but Zayn broke it with a brighter, more determined smile. “Iama fan of evening strolls through the gardens, though.”

It felt like a peace offering, so I couldn’t help but take it, even though I was still curious about where Aleksander had gotten to. Zayn didn’t seem to know the answer to that question, either—but I was soon able to put it out of my mind as we slipped back into a comfortable rhythm of conversation, the heaviness between us easing a little more with every passing minute.

We walked together for an hour, at least, through rows of rose-dotted hedges, over weathered brick paths, along a babbling stream. The air was crisp, filled with the invigorating scent of citrus and jasmine.

My tiredness was eventually forgotten, and I was in relatively good spirits when we returned to the front of the palace to find my brother standing with one shoulder leaning against a column, gazing into the distance as if watching for something. He was merely standing there, yet there was a gravity surrounding him that I couldn’t explain; one that put all my nerves right back on edge.

“He always appears so serious,” Zayn whispered, a crooked smile flirting with the words. “I feel like I’m in trouble every time he looks my way.”

“We very well might be in trouble,” I whispered back, trying to keep my tone light.

“I’ll distract him if you want to run,” he offered. “I provided that favor to Aleks a few times when we were growing up.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I said, returning the smile he gave me. I looked back to my brother to find his watchful gaze now fixed on me. With a sigh, I added, “Thank you for the company and conversation, but it seems I’m due back to theseriousbusiness of saving the world and such.”

He chuckled and gave a little bow, bidding me good night and offering my brother a curt nod as he made his way inside.

Despite the laughter we’d shared, as I watched Zayn go, I found myself thinking, again, of the troubled expression he’d worn as we spoke in the hallway earlier, and of the long shadows cast by Calista and all the others who had shaped my life.

I’ve just never been one for tragedies.

I took a deep breath, trying to convince myself I wasn’t walking toward a tragedy as I climbed the steps to my brother.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Bastian said. “We need to talk.” He sat on the top step and gestured for me to take the space beside him.

I sat, hooking my arms around my legs and drawing them up against my chest, trying to ignore the restless fluttering in my stomach.

“I’ve been discussing your training progress with Eamon and Thalia,” my brother continued, “and we all agree that it’s time you took up your sword—at least for a trial run.”

“A trial run?”

His gaze lifted to the distant horizon once more. “There’s an army that needs reviving, as we previously discussed. The soldiers we have at the palace and in Tarnath are limited in number; we won’t last long on the other side of the Nerithys Gate without reinforcements.”

“You have specific targets in mind for this revival, I assume?”

He nodded. “Tomorrow, if you’re willing, we can follow the road that leads east out of the city. A relatively short ride will bring us to Graykeep and its barracks, a place historically used for the staging and training of our kingdom’s finest warriors. The shades there are…differentthan the ones in other places.”

I realized now that this was what he was looking toward—those distant barracks.

A distant possibility of hope.

“How are they different?” I asked.

“Though most of the people who have turned to shades now drift aimlessly through the Deadlands, the ones who were at Graykeep when they began to fade have yet to leave that fortress behind. They were marked by Calista well before her death, given an extra blessing and protection from her magic—as were the grounds of Graykeep itself. It seems this shared blessing has tied the warriors to that place. Fated them to remain loyal, even now…and we’re hoping this will make them easier for you to awaken. That their loyalty might transfer to you.”

I sat up straighter as I tried to picture it: An army at my back as I opened the Nerithys Gate and stepped through to whatever fate waited on the other side.

The vision was still blurry, but the outline was there. Maybe it would all grow clearer once I had my sword in my hand, as Zayn had suggested.

Bastian was watching me carefully. Expectantly. I was struggling to put my thoughts into words—a recurring problem over these past few days.

“We have very little time to work with,” he said, “but if you’re at all uncertain, then maybe…”

“No,” I said quickly, before doubt could sink its claws into me. “I’m not uncertain. I can do this.”

Ihadto do this.

The cost of failure was too difficult to even think about.

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