Page 90 of Of Withering Dreams
Was it my imagination,or did Mr. Burlam have a slight sparkle to his grayish-blue eyes?
I nodded to him as I walked past, already set on my destination.
“Wait, girl,” he grumbled, hobbling around his desk to meet me. He squinted, his bushy mustache wobbling over pursed lips. His rich brown aura shimmered around him as he reached my hand, placing the last Mirage Orchid petal within it.
Exactly what I had stopped by the library to get. My mouth dropped as I eyed the petal’s dried, ombre surface, pressed flat from hiding between the pages of our history. My brows rose as I looked at him, a small smile curving my lips.
“Derya said your memories have returned. Won’t be saying anything to anyone.” He sniffed; one corner of his mustache lifting. “And, well … I … Good luck.” He huffed, his knobbly knees shifting uncomfortably in his trousers.
Memories flit through my recollection. I’d worked in the library for several turns, and Mr. Burlam had always been the same. Rigid. Cantankerous.
Loyal.
Oddly endearing.
I took his hand and squeezed it gently. It felt oddly sturdy for something that looked so breakable. His brows lifted, his eyes softening. “That means a lot, Mr. Burlam. I do remember, and I appreciate you and our time together over the turns.”
A warm glow flushed his pale cheeks before a grumpy breath puffed them out. He exhaled, grumbling, shuffling away, and flapping a hand at me dismissively. “Oh, don’t make a show of it, girl. Go on and play with your swords and imbeciles.”
My head swayed from side to side as I chuckled, departing and making my way to the foyer to meet Breena, Rhaegar, and Kaden. The dried petal nestled safely in my necklace pouch, separate from the vials and rune stone within my belt satchel.
“Excellent, everyone ready to give them a show?” Rhaegar asked cheerfully.
Breena grinned. “When am I not?”
Kaden let a subtle smirk tip his mouth before remembering himself. “Let’s get this over with.” His mouth pursed as he rolled his shoulders, moving toward the palace entrance.
32
FRAYED
Elder Melina Harrow was going to reap the consequences of her wickedness.
That much was certain. I’d never felt such deep conviction before. But I knew it to be true becauseIwas going to make it so.
I bit the inside of my cheek, maintaining my mask of indifference—ofignorance—as she prattled on before us on the training field. She wore a dark, gossamer cape that fluttered behind her, snagging on the weathered wooden fence as if trying to claw its way off her shoulders. Her long black dress skimmed her body, draped sleeves dripping off her wrists.
I huffed a breath of disgust out of my nostrils. There were still plenty of unknowns bouncing around my head, but I certainly was no longer oblivious to the unjust cruelty and selfishness of the Elders. Well, maybe not Marah and Endurst. They stood behind Melina in a stupor, teetering between Lucan and Ryboas.
We’d have to figure out a way to free them.
Repulsion swelled through me, cresting along my spine at the thought of Melina’s ember repeatedly slicing through our minds time and again for so many turns. Picking at scarred wounds until it crippled our very essence.
My fists tightened, one wrapped firmly around the hilt of my dagger. I widened my stance, digging my heels into the grass.
She had no clue I evicted her cursed shadows. They had covered my mind like layers of cobwebs over the turns—the bits in between erased by the Dormancy.
Lost memories continued to weave through the cleared spaces like spider silk, their delicate webs greedy as they seized onto passing recollections. With one impulsive decision, I’d unearthed the missing half of my life.
I recounted her cruelties—not just against me but countless others. All the times Lucan and Ryboas participated or followed but did nothing to stop her wanton savagery.
I shifted my gaze to the sea beyond the cliff and then dragged along the inky line of its edge, the roar of the cascading waterfall to our left goading me.
Nineteen coils of rope were piled along the precipice beyond the fence. My stomach churned. An image of me spiraling into the angry river below stole my breath.
I focused on Melina’s voice. The sickly, sweet tone grating along my nerves. “Congratulations on making it to the grand finale.” She waved her hand toward the fence. “The rules are simple: Find your way into the arena without using the main entrance or your ember, and then do whatever it takes beyond that to be the last one standing. Using your power is permissible once you’ve entered the cliff. Everyone will be watching your every move from the amphitheater below—so do try to make it fun.” Her lips curled as she turned to the Haadran and Pneumalian Elders, nodding. Lucan leaned, snarling something at them.
Marah jerked forward as her powder-blue energy enveloped her. Liquid-like orbs reflected within her halo like mirrored balls. A film of swirling blue water materialized between her hands, moisture pulling from the damp air. It expanded, and a citrus haze burst around Endurst as he directed its wisping yellow currents toward it. His ember supported the watery membrane, guiding and suspending it. Its blurred screen sharpened, clear fluid rippling over it like liquefied glass.
