Bound by Blood and Sand (7 page)

Once again, Jae woke to Tal shaking her. The room was only lit by a torch, which threw strange shadows that distorted Tal's features, deepening his frown into something frightening.

“You're awake,” he finally said, and let out a deep breath. “I was starting to worry.”

“Everything still hurts,” she said, answering his unspoken questions. She squinted at the dim light, then screwed her eyes shut. Even that was too much. Her head ached from the effort of looking at Tal. She tried to roll over, away from him, but her whole body seized, throbbing, and she fell back on the mat, eyes squeezed shut as tears formed. “I don't…don't understand,” she mumbled, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. “I didn't disobey or…I don't know what I
did
.”

“You must have done something,” he said, and reached for her hands. “Because Lord Elan just summoned you. He sent Lady Shirrad herself, but she found me first. But it's definitely you he asked for.”

Now
her eyes flew open and she stared at him in horror. “He…But I didn't…”

“He's waiting for you in the garden, and he wanted you to hurry. I wanted to explain that you're ill, but…”

But Lady Shirrad wouldn't have asked, so Tal couldn't have said anything—and even if he
had
managed to speak, it wasn't as if anyone would care that Jae could barely move. Jae grimaced and nodded. That set her head spinning, and it got worse when Tal hauled her up to sit, as if someone were smashing her head with a stone, over and over—but at least that was familiar. She had an order to obey, and the Curse had no pity for traitors. It didn't matter that she'd had some kind of fainting spell, or whatever it was that had knocked her flat. She didn't even know what had happened, could only remember a flash of shining stone and the moon, and fleeting, muddled images of faces and flowers. Whatever she'd dreamed was fading as she woke.

At least the focused pain of the Curse in her head seemed to ease the pressure on the rest of her. As Tal guided her to her feet, she felt as if she were a grape left in the sun too long, withered and dry.

Her legs were unsteady under her, and she had to lean on Tal as they walked. Some of the ache started to ease as she moved, as if she'd simply been in one position too long and her muscles needed to unclench. It also helped her head, since she was doing her best to obey the summons, and that calmed the Curse.

Lord Elan stood waiting in the garden. The moon was high overhead now, bright silver, and the stars were sprinkled across the sky like sand waiting to be swept away. He stood in front of the fountain, and Jae had to squint to see him at all. It was as if the moon had set the fountain on fire and it was throwing silver flames all over the courtyard. Everything looked strange, unfamiliar, as if she hadn't spent every day of the last year in this very spot.

She and Tal both tried to make the bow protocol demanded of them, but it was hard with them tangled together. Evidently Lord Elan didn't care. He just said “You can go” to Tal.

Tal hesitated, his grip on Jae's arm going tight for a moment. He couldn't argue—couldn't even speak, since he hadn't been asked a question—and he couldn't disobey. He helped Jae get balanced, then brushed her elbow with his hand as he glided out. Jae watched him go, wishing she could keep him with her somehow, hoping he'd stay nearby. She wasn't sure she'd be able to make it back to the Closest's quarters by herself, assuming Lord Elan let her go when he was done.

“Jae,” he said. “Look at this.”

He pointed down at the fountain's trough, but when Jae shifted her gaze, the world started to swirl in front of her again. Everything turned sideways; she couldn't tell which way was up, could barely move her arms to try to catch herself—

Lord Elan sprang forward and grabbed her as she toppled, pulled her up until he had his arms wrapped firmly around her. She shuddered, wanted to pull away but couldn't. She didn't dare, and wouldn't be able to move even if she did
.

“Are you all right?” he asked, quietly, concerned. “What happened?”

The Curse nudged her, and she was too exhausted and achy to even attempt to control her answer. “I'm
not
all right! I had some kind of fit before, and now—now I'm dizzy and exhausted and I don't want you to touch me!”

His eyes widened, the whites catching the moonlight, the brown so dark she couldn't tell iris from pupil. His mouth fell open, and he just gaped at her. She braced herself as best as she could. The Curse required honesty, but she wouldn't usually have shared that particular bit of truth.

“You can't stand on your own,” he finally said, once he got over the shock and regained control of his jaw. “I'll set you down.”

He wasn't as gentle as Tal but managed to maneuver her down onto the ground without dropping her. He left her kneeling, hunched over, her fingers digging into the dirt beneath the pebble path. She concentrated on breathing, on not shaking. He didn't move any closer, just waited.

Finally her trembling subsided. She could move again, though she didn't dare go far. All she did was force herself to relax, to sit back on her legs, kneeling upright instead of hunched over. The garden was still too bright, the fountain still glowing under the moon. Not even just the fountain—
everything
seemed to be cast in an eerie light, as if a silver fire burned inside the cactus and the pathetic bushes. Even Lord Elan glowed, though he looked a little different. That light was dimmer, steady instead of twisting and pulsating like a flame.

He stepped forward a little and pointed at the base of the fountain again. Not at the trough but at the pebbled ground in front of it, where a single purple flower was growing.

Jae gasped.

“That's what I needed to speak to you about,” he said. “I don't remember seeing this flower yesterday. Was it here?”

“No, Highest,” she murmured, still staring. The flower, like the fountain, glowed brightly—but that was impossible. It was
all
impossible. Stone as smooth as the fountain could reflect light, but a flower or a cactus couldn't. She'd heard of some people who got headaches so severe that they saw strange things, but it had never happened to her before.

“Did you plant it today?”

“No, Highest,” she repeated.

He frowned, but at the flower, not at her. “I don't understand it. The flower—it
can't
grow out here; the soil is too dry. Back home, we have to water gardens twice a day to get blossoms like this, and I know you don't do that. The water I spilled yesterday, do you think that might have done it? That it was enough for the flower to grow?”

“No, Highest. The flower's grown too quickly, and it wasn't all that much water….” She trailed off, squinting at the flower. Something about it was familiar, floating just beyond her grasp, but the thought vanished like the last rays of daylight.

Lord Elan scowled, his mouth pulling to one side. “Well, it can't just have appeared here.”

She swallowed, glad he hadn't asked her if she agreed with him. It was impossible, but it had just appeared, sometime in the hours since she'd tended the garden and had her fit. And she'd dreamed about the garden, about flowers just like this one….

Maybe that was all it was; she'd seen the flower as she'd fainted and had turned it into a dream. But even as she thought that, she knew it was wrong. The flower
hadn't
been there that afternoon.

She waited for Lord Elan to ask her something else, but he didn't, instead saying, “It must be nothing, then. Stupid of me to hope otherwise. But I want you to care for this flower, at least. Give it the water it needs. There's only one, for now, so it won't be all that much.”

She nodded that she understood as the Curse accepted the order. Then he strode out, not looking back at her.

She heaved a deep breath, relieved to have him gone. Tal didn't come back into the courtyard, though, which meant that either he really had left her alone or he'd been pulled off to a more important task—or any task at all. Maybe Lady Shirrad had found him again. It wasn't as if the Lady would care that Tal wanted to help Jae.

Instead of pushing herself up, Jae crawled forward until she could reach out and brush a finger against the flower's petals, awed. It was like something she'd seen in a dream, dancing at the edge of her memory, just out of her reach. Jostling the flower released the scent of pollen into the air, sharp and sweet, and
familiar
. But dreams didn't come with scents, and she'd never seen a flower like this before.

Maybe Lady Shirrad had perfume that smelled like the blossom….

But once Jae touched it, she couldn't shake the strange feeling that she had seen the flower before, and not in a dream. Maybe she
did
remember it from some long-ago time, when she'd been a child and the drought hadn't started yet. But that felt wrong, too. She knew the flower, and it felt more intimate than that, as if it belonged to her alone.

It was impossible, but as Jae stared up at the fountain that was practically writhing under the moonlight, then down at the flower in front of her, she knew that she'd created it.

“I'm not sure you're well enough to be up,” Tal said as they walked down the corridor toward the courtyard together.

Jae let out a huff. She'd woken him just before dawn, but they would have been up soon anyway, and the Curse would have forced her to rise and work no matter how sick she was.

Even this early, Closest roamed the halls, preparing for the day. Jae and Tal should have been doing the same thing, but thanks to Lady Shirrad's favor, Tal didn't have specific orders, and Jae's only orders were still to tend the grounds and to serve inside during the worst of the sun. Since she was dragging Tal out to the garden anyway, the Curse hadn't stopped them.

Besides, no matter what Tal thought, she felt much better than she had the previous night. She was still stiff, but the throbbing through her body had finally eased, and she could walk on her own again. The bright colors and glows she'd seen had faded. She wasn't dizzy. Everything that had happened during her fit had subsided—except her certainty that she'd created the flower outside, and a strange feeling that there was something more to her dream, something she'd forgotten.

They managed to slip into the garden without being noticed, and she led Tal over to the fountain. Leaning close to him, she murmured, “Look at the flower, Tal.
Look.
”

“It's beautiful,” he conceded. “I've never seen one like it. But I don't understand—”

“I grew it.”

He just lifted his eyebrows, waiting.

“I don't mean—I didn't
plant
it. I imagined it was there. I dreamed about bunches of them. I pictured them when I fainted, and this was here afterward.” She dug her hand into his arm but kept her voice low. “Tal, I
made
this.”

“Made it how? I don't mean to be rude, but you're not making any sense.”

As loud as she dared, she retorted, “Because
this
doesn't make any sense!” She dropped his arm and grabbed the fountain's brim. Her hand tingled, but it was a pleasant, warm feeling. “I don't know how. But yesterday I saw some of Lord Elan's papers,” she continued, and explained as quickly as she could what had happened.

Tal stared at her but didn't interrupt and didn't contradict or tell her she was crazy, even though she knew it
sounded
crazy.

“I can't explain it,” she finally finished. “But I
know
I did this.”

“That isn't possible,” he said at last. “You must
think
you did, but…”

“Then explain it some other way.” She crossed her arms.

He looked down at the fountain, stooped to examine it, reached for the flower. For a terrifying moment, Jae thought he was going to pick it, but he just ran his finger down the delicate stem and across one of the leaves. It was lush, deep green.

“Magic,” he finally said, quiet and reverent. “I can't believe…It just seems so impossible.”

He was right. Growing a flower with magic sounded entirely mad. No one had used magic since the end of the War, but it had been common once, before then. It had been generations, but…

“The flower can't grow without water, and I didn't plant it. There wasn't even a bud there before I fainted yesterday. And I felt something.” Thinking she had magic may have been madness, but Jae knew deep in her core that it was also the truth. She was so doubt-free that the Curse didn't even stir.

“But then…that's amazing,” he said, and then looked her in the eye. “And dangerous.”

She nodded. True, all those generations ago, magic had been used to craft the Well, to save the world—but their ancestors had also used it for war. Taesann, the great traitor, had gathered an army of rogue mages for his rebellion, and had nearly toppled the Highest in his attempt to seize the Well. As long as there was magic in the world, another war could happen. That was why the Highest had turned away from it after casting the Curse, and why they'd hidden the Well's location, even from their own descendants. Now they used magic only when there was no choice, when protecting the Well required it.

Now, looking down at her flower, Jae could almost feel the echo of her ancestors' power. Magic could be life—or death.

“If it really is magic, we need to know how it works, what you can do,” Tal finally said.

“I don't know much yet,” she said, answering the implied question. “I was cleaning the fountain, and everything just happened.”

He hesitated again, looked around, up at the windows, and finally said, “You should try it again—carefully. See what you can do. If you can really do anything at all.”

“I
can,
” she said, stubbornly sure of it. She reached for the fountain, pressed her hand into the bare trough. The tingles grew stronger, climbing up her arm, and the fountain started to glow. Not as brightly as the previous night, but also not reflecting the first rays of dawn. It came from within the fountain.

“Look at that,” she breathed.

“I don't see anything except you.”

“Then…” She stared down,
focused,
but there was no sudden spike of anything. No pain, no dizziness. No visions. “I don't know what to do.”

Tal made a low
hmm
in his throat, and for a moment she thought he'd tell her she was crazy after all. Instead he said, “You dreamed of flowers.”

“It was so real,” she said, and inhaled. She could just barely smell the single blossom, tickling inside her nose. In her dream—her vision—the scent had been a hundred times stronger—a thousand. There had been so many flowers.

She closed her eyes and imagined it. She didn't even picture the fountain or the garden, just a rainbow of flowers. Purple, like this one, and rich blues and reds. A blanket of colors over a bed of green leaves and stems, twisted and tangled together.

Jae felt like an army of ants was crawling over her skin, and the fountain went hot under her hand, pressing back against her where she leaned on it. She didn't open her eyes. Instead she thought about her beautiful, imaginary garden, and
pushed
—

The Curse hit her all at once. She swallowed a scream, only letting out a tiny noise as she toppled back, her body seared, her head pulsing with agony. Tal grabbed her, and he was glowing, too, the light flickering and twisting inside him. He helped her down to the ground, letting her sit, and perched next to her. His hand on her shoulder burned.

After a silent moment, he murmured, “Jae, look.”

She pried her eyes open, squinting against the too-bright courtyard, the strange glows of Tal and the fountain both, and saw what he was pointing at. A bed of flowers—only a few, small but glowing more brightly than even the fountain itself. She stared at them, her heart beating too fast in her chest, echoing in her ears.

Finally she managed to breathe, “I did it.”

“But it hurt you,” Tal said.

“But I
did
it!” She wanted to laugh despite the pain, because she
had
done this. She'd created it, done something impossible—and even though the Curse had punished her, she'd never felt more powerful. She opened her eyes wider, let the bright lights flood in, and it was like laying her hands on the smooth fabric of one of Lady Shirrad's best dresses. She could
feel
it, pull it, rip it—it wasn't light. It was energy. The fountain burned with it, and so did the flowers. So did Tal, and, when she looked down at her own hands, so did
she.
 The energy, whatever it was, wherever it had come from, was hers to command. She could do anything with it, anything she could imagine, anything she wanted—

Until someone found out about it.

“Quick,” she gasped, scrambling forward even though it made her dizzy. “We have to get rid of them. If someone sees— It's bad enough Lord Elan found the first. If he finds out…”

Tal nodded, understanding immediately: if Lord Elan or any of the Highest found out, any advantage Jae's power gave her would belong to the Highest instead.

“We have to find a way to get rid of these,” Jae repeated. “And hide all of this until Lord Elan is gone—until all the Avowed have left Aredann.”

“But we can stop them! We have to tell— Jae, if they know you have magic, they won't leave us for dead.”

“No,” Jae said. “I want them to go. Let them leave, and assume we'll all die, because if I have magic…Tal, once they're gone, I might be able to save Aredann.”

His eyes went wide as he realized, understanding dawning. He gaped a little and said, hushed, “Jae, if you have magic, if you can save Aredann…maybe you could even break the Curse.”

She stared back at him, at the flickering, twisting glow within him. Maybe she didn't know where the magic had come from yet, but for the first time in her life, she had something of her own, something the Avowed didn't control. Again, she felt that echo of her ancestors through the ages, a reminder of their power.

Of their rebellion.

Jae could barely focus all day, even when serving the Avowed's lunch. Her mind kept escaping her, drawing her back to the small bouquet of flowers now hidden under her sleeping mat. They'd be crushed there and their petals would dry, and once the Avowed were gone, she'd be able to take them out, use the dry leaves to make the room smell better. And out in the garden, she'd be able to grow dozens more.

She worked until well after the sun set and she'd finally fulfilled all of her daily duties, so she could slip out back to the trees. She and Tal had agreed to meet, but he wasn't there yet. She frowned a little, nervous, but it was only a few minutes later that he appeared, a gentle hand on her elbow as he mouthed hello.

“I was worried you wouldn't be able to make it,” she said.

He waved that concern away. “Lady Shirrad is so busy trying to impress His Highest, she didn't even notice me,” Tal said. “Maybe I should be insulted, but it's actually a relief.”

Jae had no idea how he could even joke about that, but he smiled and gestured to the dry, dirty ground. Jae sat facing him, her back against one of the trees, and he sat with his back to the wall.

“I've been thinking about it all day,” he said. “What we really, truly need is water. And if the Highest mages were able to craft the Well, you
must
be able to use magic to find some.”

“That makes sense,” she agreed, nodding slowly. She had no idea how she'd do it, though—but then again, she hadn't known how to grow flowers, either. All she'd done was shut her eyes and imagine it, so she did that again now.

She could feel the energy around her, even with her eyes shut, and slowly the glowing started—even if it was just in her mind. She opened her eyes again, and sure enough, there the bright lights were, illuminating everything around her. It made it hard to tell one thing from another—the wall from the ground, Tal from the tree—and it was almost too much.

The Curse began rumbling in the back of her head. It was a soft pulse, not yet too painful. She ignored it and thought about water: cool, quenching, soothing. She remembered it damp on her toes when Lord Elan had spilled it, and the sloshing noise it made inside water skins. She could practically taste it, sweet against the heat of her breath—

Some of the lights swimming around her tugged at her, drawing her toward them. She twisted, and it was as if she could see through walls, drawn to the basement, where water jugs were kept locked up; to the kitchen, where they needed water for cooking and cleaning. Even the cistern in Lord Elan's room.

The Curse exploded in her head, and she gasped, clutching her skull.

“Jae!”

Tal's voice was painfully loud as she waved him back, forced herself to focus on here and now, on her body's shape and feel and not the glow. As the lights subsided, so did the Curse—a little.

“It hurts,” she said when she looked up and found Tal hovering scant inches from her, ready to catch her if she pitched over. “The Curse is…”