Onyx Storm: Chapter 56

If Tyrrendor does not immediately restore the flow of Talladium, the consequences will be dire not only for the province but the Continent. This is not a request—it is an order from your king.

—Official Correspondence of His Majesty, King Tauri the Wise, to His Grace, Lieutenant Xaden Riorson, Sixteenth Duke of Tyrrendor I stand in the field in front of Draithus, surrounded by the peaks of snow-topped mountains, and even though I shouldn’t, I take the first step toward the city. I’m too far. I’ll never reach Tairn, and he’s my only chance at finding her.

Battle erupts in the sky over its spiral tower, and the outlines of wings pop through the ominous clouds hovering over the canyons to the south before descending into darkness once more. The storm gives me the one thing I can never really afford—hope. The rain might make flying a pain in the ass, but it will give her the edge she needs.

Fire erupts along the high walls, and flames of blue and green rise, climbing the guard towers like ivy. Shit. I have to get there now. I can put it out. Shadow beats flame every time.

My footsteps falter, and I pause.

Shadow?

I don’t wield shadows. Xaden does.

My body fights to lurch forward, to run toward the city, but I shouldn’t continue across this field. It only ever ends one way, with the Sage yanking me into the air—

This is Xaden’s dream. Awareness prickles the back of my neck.

I’m in Xaden’s dream.

The realization does something that feels like a snap across the back of my skull. Suddenly, I’m no longer a part of him as he takes off running ahead of me, dressed for battle.

“Xaden!” I shout before he can make it a half dozen steps.

He stops, then slowly turns to face me in the grass-covered field. His eyes widen when he spots me, then narrow as he glances left, then right. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“That’s an understatement.” I take in our surroundings with a quick glance. The field is barren, but if this dream is anything like his others, it won’t be for long.

“You aren’t safe.” He shakes his head and stalks toward me. “I can’t keep you safe.”

“This isn’t real.” I take his ice-cold hand in mine, then startle. I can feel that. “Why can’t you escape this place? What keeps you here?”

“I do,” the Sage answers from behind Xaden.

Xaden whips around, reaching over his shoulder for a blade that disappears, and I move to his side.

The Sage pulls back the hood of his maroon robe, revealing the freakishly young face that haunts my—Xaden’s—dreams, and smiles, cracking the skin of his chapped lips. The veins along his temples pulse crimson as he folds his gnarled hands like this has the possibility of being a civil encounter. “It’s so nice of you to join us, lightning wielder.” He tilts his head. “Or should I call you dream-walker?”

My lips part. Xaden’s nightmares are eerily on point. “We should go,” I whisper.

“He can’t.” The Sage’s smile widens, and he lifts his bony hand.

Xaden rises and claws at his throat.

“Wake up!” I shout at Xaden.

“I told you, he can’t. And here I’d hoped you’d be a quick learner. How disappointing,” the Sage lectures, then slits his eyes like a snake toward Xaden. “You lost something I wanted, but you will bring her,” he demands.

“Never,” Xaden forces through his throat, and his feet kick for the ground.

“Don’t worry,” the Sage says with a twisted smile. “I’ll be a more merciful teacher than Theophanie.”

Fear races down my spine, and I reach for power—

Stop. This is a dream. It isn’t real. He isn’t losing air. He’s breathing just fine in our bed. I have to wake up, but that only ever happens once the Sage strikes.

His sword coming down on me…

Pain. I need pain. I reach for my thigh but only find a smooth layer of leather.

“I am done waiting,” the Sage snarls. “Done playing this little game. You may have raised your wards, but they won’t save you. We have the advantage, and if you will not deliver her, then she will come herself.” He closes his fist, and Xaden wheezes. “It’s simple, dream-walker. You come or she dies.”

She who?

This is a dream, I remind myself, and if it were mine, I’d be armed.

I slide my hand down my hip and find the hilt of a dagger. Before I can second-guess my plan, I wrench it free.

The Sage’s eyes widen on the polished, wooden handle, but I’m already swinging it toward my arm. The blade sinks into my skin—

I jolt upright in bed and gasp for breath, blinking furiously to clear the haze of the nightmare as dawn breaks outside our bedroom window.

Xaden.

His spine is arched beside me, his head thrown back in pain as he strains for the very air he’s breathing.

“Wake up!” I put both my hands on his chest and shove with my body and mind. “Xaden! Wake up!”

His eyes flash open, and he falls flat against the mattress as his heart pounds beneath my fingers.

“It was just a dream.” I shift my weight to kneel beside him, then push his hair off his clammy forehead. “We’re in Aretia. In your room. It’s just you and me.”

He blinks at me a few times, then blows out a small breath. “That sounds like a much better dream.” His hand splays over my hip and his heart rate slows as he looks up at me. “You were there.”

“Yeah.” I nod, tracing the scar above his heart.

“I saw you pull the dagger. I knew you were there. That’s never happened before.” He sits up, bringing our faces closer.

“I…” How do I explain it? “You know it’s not the first time I’ve recognized it as a dream, but it is the first time I knew it was your dream—that it wasn’t mine. The second I realized it, I became myself, separate from you.” My brow knits. “I just don’t know how.”

“It sounds like you figured it out pretty quickly.” He searches my face.

“I shouldn’t have been able to do it.” My voice fades to a whisper. “Andarna’s gone.”

His thumb strokes the top of my hip. “Maybe the power’s gone but the ability still remains.”

“Tairn?” I reach down the bond.

“I have encountered this as many times as you have.” His reply is gruff with sleep.

Not helpful.

Before I can sink any deeper into my thoughts, someone pounds on our door.

It’s too early for anything positive. “That can’t be good.”

“Agreed.” Xaden throws back the blankets and heads for the door in nothing but his sleeping pants, and I scramble for the armoire. “Garrick? You look like shit.”

What could Garrick possibly be doing here at this hour? I grab my robe, then tug it over my cotton nightdress before hurrying to Xaden’s side.

He wasn’t kidding. Garrick looks like shit. Blood drips from his hairline, and his left eye is rapidly swelling shut from what appears to be a fresh hit. Instead of his swords, he carries a massive shield on his back, the size and weight of which would absolutely crush me.

“We were on patrol when she found us.” Garrick’s gaze flickers my way, and the instant pity that fills his open eye sours my stomach. “I wasn’t strong enough. Or quick enough. She ripped us straight out of the sky like a pair of pigeons in a windstorm.”

“Who?” Xaden asks, steadying his friend’s arms when he wavers.

“Their lightning wielder,” Garrick answers. “She let me go to deliver a message.”

Theophanie.

“To me?” Xaden asks, his brow furrowing.

“For both of you.” Garrick retreats a step, then swings off his shield. “They’ve reached the walls of Draithus. She said if that isn’t threat enough, you have five hours to bring Bodhi and Violet or she dies.” He glances at me.

You come or she dies. Isn’t that what the Sage said? But why Bodhi? And who could she possibly—

No. I shake my head, and my stomach lurches. There’s no possible way the irids would let her put hands on Andarna, if Andarna is even still on the Continent.

“Who—” Xaden starts, then falls silent and stares at Garrick’s shield. “Fuck.”

I drop my gaze to the shield, too, and my heart drops out of my chest.

It isn’t a shield; it’s a green scale that matches the exact shade of my armor.

Not Andarna…Teine.

Theophanie has Mira.