I wanted to spill the beans about everything that had happened, everything I was feeling: about the blade and Thom and how scared I was to lose him, about Talon and how he still came into my dreams every night, about Rosaline’s voice echoing in my head.
I wanted to, yet no matter how crazy that blade might be making me, I needed it to release Rosaline’s soul, to release Cail’s. I wouldn’t be able to do that if they knew I had it, if they knew what it was doing to me and how volatile it had made me. I wouldn’t be able to save my baby if they took the blade away, if I didn’t get a chance to find the others.
Besides, it wasn’t my daughter beside me, not really. It was just her memory. I could handle it.
I had handled it this long.
“I’m fine, Jos. Please,” I said as I took a step toward her, unsurprised when she fought the need to take a step away. She still didn’t trust me. “I think I got nervous, what with the impending war and everything.” I added a shrug and a smile.
Although it seemed to please her, she was still tense, her silver eyes continuing to study me far too closely.
“You’re not the only one,” she finally groaned.
My shoulders loosened a bit, though the knot in my stomach stayed firmly in place.
We stared at each other, making it clear we didn’t really believe one another, but neither of us were going to say anything further, either. We both had too many secrets at this point.
“I think I’ll take fake wars to actual ones any day,” I tried again, taking a few tentative steps toward her, glad when she didn’t shrink away. I really wished I had something better to say, but “I’m sorry I almost killed you” didn’t seem right.
“But then, we may be looking at a war once Ilyan sees what we did to the floor.” I sighed as I moved to stand beside her, my shoulders dropping dejectedly as I caught sight of the pile of rubble she was trapped in, the beautiful floor smashed to bits.
I was so dead.
“I’m not accepting responsibility for this,” Jos moaned from beside me.
“That’s fair,” I groaned dejectedly. It was. I couldn’t wait for Ilyan to unveil that little temper tantrum unless… “Maybe we can blame it on Edmund. Then Ilyan could be so mad at him he would just explode from the burden of Ilyan’s temper.”
Seemed legit.
She looked at me out of the corner of her eye, her eyebrows unified in a deep furrow.
“One could hope,” I said with a shrug, falling to my knees to begin digging her out of the pit I had trapped her in. “And I will. I will hope that Edmund will take the strength of his son’s wrath from me and that I will survive this unfortunate incident.”
“Oh, boy.”
“It is the only chance we have to save us all.” Laying the melodrama on thick, I swept my hand over my shoulder from where I knelt below her, letting a bit of an American accent shine through the dull shadow of my Czech one.
I expected her to chuckle, but she sighed, a bit of a groan escaping with the sound. Just like that, the playfulness in my voice evaporated.
“Oh, bother.” The eye roll was obvious in her voice. “If only it was that easy.”
“It might be; you never know.” I could hope.
“Oh, I know.”
She was dejected, and I didn’t blame her. Sometimes, Joclyn’s sights had a habit of putting a damper on any situation. All she saw was what was coming. She forgot to look at where she was. She forgot the future wasn’t supposed to be known; it wasn’t set in stone.
“You can’t see everything, you know,” I whispered as I continued to pull a rock away from her partial tomb, her legs shifting around as I worked and she tried to free herself.
“I’ve seen too much, Wyn. I know you can’t see everything. No one can, not even a Drak. But you can see too much. Sometimes, I think I have.”
With a snap, I looked up to her, a warning of temper rumbling through me as agitation twisted through my spine. “So have I, Jos. We’ve all seen too much.” My voice was dead. It barely got above a whisper before it was swallowed by the vastness of the room. “It may not be the future, and it may not be what’s coming, but I’ve still seen too much. I’ve seen years of Edmund killing and destroying and hurting and manipulating and…”
Mommy? Can you see me? Why didn’t you come for me?
“I’ve seen my own daughter murdered before my eyes. I’ve seen the blood running over her cheeks as I screamed, fighting to get to her as she pleaded for Mommy to rescue her.”
Joclyn was staring at me from where I still crouched below her, her eyes as wide as saucers while the truth of what I was saying hit her.
But I didn’t see that.
I saw Rosaline: her eyes wide and despairing, her cries soft and defeated as she was taken from me.