Page 93 of A War of Embers

Even though in the back of my mind I knew this was a possibility all along, it still hurts to hear. Not only will I never have a connection via my soul to my biological family, there’s no way for it to be returned to me from the Cliff of Embers because my fate was never to be sent there. I was taken, purely and selfishly to join Lady Gwenyth’s army…to what? What is she doing with all the children? Are all the Districts aware of what’s happening or is it only those closely aligned with Lady Gwenyth who share in her desperation for more power?

“We can go through the library and see if we can find your family,” Rowan offers.

My mouth opens to respond but no words come out. Do I want to know my family? After so long, will they even be interested in knowing me? The idea of people who could be the most important people in my life knowing the kind of pain and destruction I caused feels like a dagger to the heart. If I choose to die, what’s the point of burdening them further with my presence? Shaking my head, I reply honestly, “I don’t know.”

He dips his head. “As is your choice.”

Scanning the disaster of a room, I settle on the maps thrown about the floor. “This is why you have maps of Tellus,” I murmur more to myself. “You want to know where the children are being held.”

“Partially, but yes,” he agrees. “With how long they’ve been taking children, and with the amount I suspect they have stolen, their army is quite large. Bigger than what they would have used during the Province Wars. I believe they will strike sooner rather than later.”

“Your maps are still wrong,” I quietly point out. Stiffening my shoulders, I stand taller before Rowan. “I want to fix them. I want to help.”

Rowan grows unnaturally still. “This is not your fight.”

“You want to bring Tellus down.” I slam my hand on the table near me. “I can give you things you don’t know. Places that they hide, places where powerful people are drawn to.”

“I’m not saying your knowledge of their lands wouldn’t be an asset. I’m telling you this isn’t your fight.”

Does he always have to be a stubborn asshole? “Let me help. I need to know something good can come from my life.” Pausing, I add softly, “Please.”

He shakes his head, undeterred by my plight. “There will be war. My people–”

“You don’t get to have this both ways,” I snap. “I was born here. I am from the Wraithlands. I am yours, because you made me. I am your people, Rowan. Let. Me. Help.”

Instead of backing down, he crosses his arms over his massive chest. “The other reason I have the maps is because Tellus has chosen war. With the army they’ve accumulated over the decades by stealing my people, I am preemptively ensuring if they strike first, I am ready. That my people are ready. They want to bring the fight here because this is where they want to control the power by taking over the Cliff of Embers. I do not need Tellus’ locations to be accurate because I do not plan on bringing the fight to them.”

“You’d rather they come here? Sneaking in beneath your nose the same way they have before? It’s better to strike when they are not prepared.”

“What makes you think they’re not prepared now? What makes you think we are not prepared? The moment you came here, things changed. You wouldn’t notice because you are not permitted to leave the estate though you often do, but new protocols were put into place immediately after your arrival.”

“That doesn’t mean you should turn a blind eye on Tellus.”

Rowan snorts. “I am not. I understand how you may believe that, but I have precautions set in place.”

A memory briefly rises to the surface and I scoff. “You mean your mother’s magic killing the soil in Cinnabar? Her storms raging constantly? The people there adapted to it. They still live and do not consider it a burden.”

The smile Rowan gives me isn’t friendly. “Do you know what grows beneath the soil? Life and death. A balance that must be kept. To use death, there must be life.”

His riddle makes no sense, but he’s not finished.

“The soil dying is the least of the Cinnabar District’s problems.”

Narrowing my eyes at his haughty attitude, I demand, “What else is happening there? What don’t I know?”

“It’s not for you to know, Keres. Like I stated, this war is not yours.”

Funny how I’m choosing to make it mine. “You made me your equal,” I remind him. “This war is just as much mine as it is yours.”

Rowan flicks up a dark brow. “That would imply you’re not dying any time soon.”

I go to refute his claim, the words bubbling up easily in my throat, but they refuse to leave the tip of my tongue. Twelve hours ago I was ready to die. Twelve hours ago I had made my peace, felt the euphoria of finally being able to rest.

Then the world I knew was shattered; falling into sharp, jagged pieces that pierce my flesh to remind me I am real, alive, here.

Twelve hours ago I knew nothing but lies fed to me.

I still want peace, to lay in the Cliff of Embers and be able to do no harm to another being. But that was before my peace was being threatened by the very woman who created me into this monster.

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