Page 23 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“A Guardian,” he finishes.
“Yes. No one knows what that blue mark means.”
“She’s obviously lying.” Styx tries to snatch them, but Legion glares and holds them away. Disgruntled, Styx folds his arms and explains, “I can’t see into her head, so how can we trust her?”
“I’m sorry, Styx,” I sigh. “The only reason I didn’t choose you in the temple was because I don’t know you yet.” I cast a nervous glance around the room. Varen has fallen silent and watches me curiously. “I don’t really know any of you yet.”
“You think I’m jealous?” Styx bares his fangs, flashing that devilish side of him again. “I couldn’t care less what you think of me.”
“Hush,” Legion murmurs.
Styx’s expression drops. “You can’t be considering this.”
“She freed you from your prison,” Legion reminds him, then points to Fox’s crumpled letter in Bodin’s hands. “In his own words, he absolves her from wrongdoing.”
Love for Fox swells in my heart. Of course he wouldn’t leave me without ensuring they wouldn’t blame me. He probably repeated the same offer in the letter that he did in Titania’s temple—he gave me the choice to take the wisps and use them to return to Elphyne. I dash a tear from my eye.
“Legion,” Bodin warns. “Think about this with a clear head.”
“It is imbued with powerful magic.” Legion turns the spectacles over, angling the brass to catch the firelight. “It feels like us, like Fox. Perhaps we can make more.”
Emrys snaps, “I agree with our brother. This female is naught but an interloper. Perhaps your lack of memories is a blessing when our history is full of suffering.”
“Hiding from the truth is not the answer,” Legion returns, eyes turning to the map behind his desk. His finger taps on the brass frames as he considers the pins, marking enemy activity. “Our war is with Nocturna, not Willow O’Leary Nightstalk from Elphyne.”
Before anyone can stop him, Legion looks at me, slides the spectacles on, and doubles over in pain. Black silken strands fall to shield his face, and his trembling hands clench and press against his forehead. He emits little shallow grunts as if breathing hurts.
I lurch forward, horrified.
“It shouldn’t hurt!” I cry. “I’m so sorry. I?—”
An unseen force—Styx’s wraith—wrenches me away.
“What did you do?” His guttural snarl holds an edge of panic.
“Remove the spectacles,” Bodin barks, barging into the space. Emrys is already there, gloved hand groping for the brass frames.
My arms are pinned, squished to my body. It’s as though Styx stands behind me, clamping me with his hands. Varen shouts something about the buzz and covers his ears. Baby Hunt howls. It is pandemonium.
Emrys latches onto Legion’s long hair and yanks his head back, exposing his neck and face. His dark eyes are wide. Sweat dapples his skin. Every tendon and muscle is pulled agonizingly taut. He seems paralyzed with pain. Bodin tries again to pluck the spectacles, but Legion’s hand jerks up, blocking him.
“Wait,” he grunts. “I remember.”
I wish I could feel relief. But what if this process kills him? What if it does to his mind the same thing that happened to Varen? With Puck’s scheming, we can’t afford that.
Eons of history return to him through the enchantment. Hundreds and hundreds of years. Thousands. Tens of thousands. The past five years probably occupied only a thimble-sized space in his mind.
My heart pounds hard as Bodin hesitates. What if it doesn’t work? What if they kill me right here, right now? I am a fragile mortal compared to them—even with their powers dimmed from the seals. Styx’s wraith only needs to sneeze, and he would break my bones. The Sluagh himself paces wildly alongside the desk.
A sense of foreboding fills me when he stops and stares, chin dipped, looking at me through dark, wavy locks like I’m dinner. I hate knowing nothing about him. I hate that I’m still no one to him.
“Please don’t,” I whimper and struggle against his wraith. “Let me go.”
Suddenly, the pressure against my arms falls away. Styx’s eyes widen. His complexion turns ashen as his skull brieflyilluminates, and his wraith returns to his body. I don’t think he called his wraith back.
For a moment, I’d forgotten the lesson Fox painstakingly learned when I almost drowned. They can’t use their magic on me unless I give my permission. It’s part of the queen-hive bond.
I rub my sore arms and say, “I am already partly bonded with the six of you. Titania isn’t your true queen. I am. You can’t harm me with your magic. You can’t force your way into my mind. You can’tflickeror heal me without permission.”
