Page 26 of The Dawn Chorus
Eight of Swords. A blindfolded woman encircled by blades. If she was to escape her prison, she would have to bleed. Liss had told me that it represented my hopes and fears. The torture had to be part of it.
The woman on the card wore no crown. She held no sword of her own. She was not a warrior or a leader or a queen – only a captive, bound at the wrists, unable to see or feel an escape.
I feared its meaning. Whether or not the swords were gone, their memory might forever shape the bounds of my existence, reducing my world to the walls of this building. I might never have the courage to leave them again, as I had left my prison – and if I did, I would not be the same as before. I would be heavier. I looked down at my wrists, where the manacles had been.
And I stared into the grey beyond the window, haunted by the rain.
PENAL COLONY OF SHEOL I
22AUGUST2059
I had worked with Warden in the woods for more than two weeks. So far, nobody had discovered us. Even the Rephaim had forgotten how many dangers lurked in certain areas so they avoided them altogether.
All but Warden. Every night, he had taken me to a safe clearing and pushed me to the limit. Every night left me with a nosebleed and a headache from trying to break into his dreamscape.
You’re not trying to kill her, Liss had said.Just do something to show them she’s not all-powerful.
Tonight, I was determined to do that to Warden, to really rattle him. I would crack his dreamscape before sunrise. I would possess him. If I could do that to him, then I could do it to Nashira. I could survive this place.
Rain thrashed against the windows, and somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled. There had been rumours of a storm. I zipped my coat as I headed down the stairs to his chamber.
The first thing I saw was the glow of ectoplasm on the rug. Unsettled by the metallic smell of it, I followed the trail to the armchair, where Warden sat, calm as you please.
‘Again?’ I said flatly.
‘Again.’ He shifted. ‘Fear not. I have already taken blood.’
‘And aura,’ I observed.
Warden spared me a glance. His eyes were orange, like amber struck by sunlight.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I will soon heal.’
I walked to him to see the damage. His shirt was drenched and torn where the Emite had ripped into his back, right above his shoulder blade. I was surprised he was conscious.
‘Why the hell do you keep doing this?’ My tone was cool as I looked him dead in the eye. ‘Why keep endangering yourself?’
‘I asked you the same about your visit to the Rookery.’
‘This is different. You’re the only one forbidden to fight the Emim, yet you keep going out there.’
‘They will kill and consume even more humans if some Rephaim do not help from the shadows.’ He reached for the cup of wine beside him. ‘I was a warrior once. I stand a better chance of defeating them. No matter what the blood-sovereign decrees, this is my calling.’
‘Why not just send Rephs to defend the colony, then?’ I stood in front of him. ‘If you have a better chance than we do. Why not cut the soldier charade and just use humans to feed on?’
Warden held my gaze for so long that I should have felt self-conscious.
‘It is complicated,’ he said, ‘but there are reasons.’
‘Reasons you never see fit to tell me.’
He drank. ‘For further reasons.’
Like the fact that we could never fully trust each other in this place, where everyone was a potential enemy. He still had too much power over me. I still had too much power over him. We could never be friends or confidants here, in the pressure cooker of our own suspicions.
‘The humans sent to fight the Emim are mostly red-jackets,’ I said. ‘The fewer of them are there during the rebellion, the better.’
‘You do not mean that.’