Page 43 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
“Because even though the voice was distorted, it sounded like you. Itfeltlike you. And that’s not the only time I’ve remembered something that felt like you. Youarefamiliar, I know it,“ I shake my head. “But something about it is off. Please, tell me what happened.” I look at him pleadingly and then add with a breathy laugh, “Your reaction to the idea of me having a memory of you is very telling.”
His face falls so slightly I nearly don’t notice it. I can almost taste the guilt that has overcome him. It’s Locane’s turn for an anxious swallow, and I can see his mind working, trying to find words that he doesn’t want to say.
“Tell me what happened.” My voice is gentle and coated in desperation.
Locane closes his eyes and begins to turn away from me. He rubs the spot between his thick dark brows before turning back. The emotions painted so clearly on his face a moment ago are gone, and he’s back to an expressionless mask.
“These truths will be demanded sooner than I’d like. But not today.” He exhales audibly through his nose. “Not today,” he repeats before he continues walking, leaving me rooted to the spot with disappointment.
He nearly told me. I could see it.
I follow him, on the cusp of letting a recognizable fire win, but in the few strides that it takes me to catch up to him, that anger ebbs as quickly as it had flowed. All these emotions have been rampant, unpredictable, and uncontrollable, like a toddler living in an adult’s body. I’m determined to school these the same as my magic.
“I’ll drop it, for now,” I tell him—surprising myself—as I catch up to him. Locane gives me a soft expression, conveying something akin to gratitude, but not quite. He hands me a water skin, and I take a long pull.
“You were wrong, by the way,” I tell him with satisfaction.
“What was I wrong about, Ellya?”
“About Nana holding me back. She was training me to master my electric currents, not suppress it. She wanted the best for me. She does. She is alive, right?” I’ve been meaning to ask him if he knows of her well-being since he told me he knew her at all. But he has such a way of distracting me from asking questions that deserve to be answered.
“Yes. She is alive. I won’t speak any more about what I believe her intentions were with you and your gifts. You will draw your own conclusions in time.”
The implications of Locane’s statement make my gut clench. “What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t matter right now. My intention is not to keep things from you, but to inform you without overwhelming you. You have had two panic attacks in a very short time, with very little information.”
We’ve made it back to the magnolia tree, and I sit down on the bench, holding my hand out expectantly for the water skin. Hehands it to me as I say, “I don’t expect you to elaborate, but this tree feels as familiar as you.”
“Well, at least your current expectations will meet your reality.”
He sits next to me and props a foot on one knee. He has his long dark hair pulled back, making his cheekbones more prominent.
“Tell me, Ellya. When do your visions come to you?” Locane asks me unexpectedly.
The question takes me by surprise. “I don’t really know. They are very random.”
“And how do you know when they take place? For instance, how do you know if they are past, present, or future?” His dark eyes are void of any sparkle, but showing signs of that maniacal glint he’s had a few times.
“I don’t,” I admit sadly.
The simple statement sets him off. He sneers at me, disdain dripping from his tone when he says, “Of course, you don’t.”
Locane pulls the tie out of his hair and runs his fingers through it before securing it again.
“Would that not be a priority in mastering that sort of gift?” Locane spits at me condescendingly. “Is that not a very important aspect of that gift? Knowing not only what you’re Seeing, but when?”
“Yes, I would think so.” My words come out quiet, ashamed. “I told you, from what has come back to me, I struggled to get a grasp on the visions. And they would sometimes wipe me out for days.”
I’m again overcome with the sudden need to explain myself and why I’m not better prepared. The all-encompassing happiness I was only just experiencing is gone completely, being stolen away by the blanket of self-doubt that covers and steals soeasily.
“Your Nana didn’t teach you anything about deciphering any of this?”
The sneer Locane gives me holds such blame and disappointment, and my throat grows thick. It becomes hard for me to swallow.
“I don’t know. The only memory I have of her working with me on my Sight was when I was sixteen. I don’t know what’s happened in the years since. But I’m sure something has. I’m sure she helped me learn something about it. I just… I don’t know what.” I try to explain, doing nothing to abate the dissatisfied glaze in his eyes or my guilt that comes with it.
So much for schooling my emotions.
