Chapter 19

Seraphina.

Something is horribly wrong. I feel as though my mind has been violated.

I lift myself out of the bath and let the water splash on the floor. I shiver in the lamplight and think of Alaric. Something inside me says that he’s not well. I know it, but I don’t know how. He’s hurt…in one of his legs…

I feel a coldness creeping in on me again. “Ssserraphinaaa,” whispers the same voice.

I whirl around. Nobody is behind me. I scan the cramped room. It’s likely a servant’s quarters. The only furniture besides the bath is a single bed and a little table with a pitcher of water atop it. There’s a small window, just a slit through the heavy stone wall.

I peer through it. Darkness. Nothing. Not even torchlight.

There is only one way in and one way out.

Hurriedly I dry myself and slip on a blue dress left for me on the bed. I cover my head and pin my veil across the lower half of my face.

I leave the room to try to find someone, anyone. I don’t know where I am. I know I shouldn’t be unaccompanied in the palace but I don’t know what else to do. To be alone here as a commoner could be dangerous. There are many who would like to see me dead for ruining the purity of this place.

I rush down the corridor, my footsteps clattering on the stone. I stop where the corridor splits into two.

“We are waiting,” says the same voice. It’s very quiet and slightly metallic. It doesn’t sound human.

Who is speaking to me? I scan behind me and look down the two corridors. Still nobody.

The voice sounds like it’s coming from inside my own head.

A pure terror grips my body. The walls feel like they’re closing in. My breath quickens. I crouch down on the floor and press my hands to my temples.

“Get out…GET OUT!” I shriek. My voice echoes off of the stone walls. My heart is beating faster and faster, and I can’t control the speed of my breathing. Then my vision goes dark.

—

I awake to a cool hand across my forehead. I blink my eyes open slowly. Candles illuminate stacks of books and shelves of amber bottles.

Then I see the unreadable gray eyes of Dorian Nightshade.

“Welcome back Miss Darkwater,” says Dorian in a flat voice.

My hands brush velvet beneath me. I’m lying on a small couch. “Where am I?” I ask.

“You are in the palace library. Oris has gone to sleep. This is currently the safest place in the palace,” he replies.

I feel a pang in the center of my chest and see the face of Prince Thornheart. The vision fades as quickly as it came.

“Is Prince Thornheart alright?” I ask breathlessly.

Nightshade looks at me intently, his grey eyes clear and cold like an overcast sky. “Why do you ask?” he says, though I feel that he already knows.

“I…” start but my voice falters. How can I explain what I’ve been feeling?

“I think he’s hurt,” I continue, blushing, though he won’t be able to see behind my veil.

“Yes, he was hurt,” says Dorian in an unchanging voice. “He’s being tended by Lady Silverthorn now with the other wounded. He’s lost a lot of blood but he will recover. He was attacked by a Dark One.”

I inhale sharply. Gods, I think, it wasn’t just anxiety. Everything I experienced was true.

It feels as though Dorian is looking right through me, as though he can read my thoughts. I prop myself up on the couch and hug my knees.

“Miss Darkwater, if tell me what you are experiencing, I may be able to help you,” says Nightshade.

I hug my knees more tightly.

“You were unconscious when I found you,” continues Nightshade. “I need to know what happened. It may be important for the fate of the realm.”

Gods damn the realm, I think to myself.

“I—I’m feeling new things. I heard someone talking to me, but I couldn’t see who it was. The voice sounded like it was coming from inside my own head,” I say.

Nightshade tightens his lips slightly and gives a nod. He stays silent, and I feel awkward.

“I knew what happened to Prince Thornheart,” I say to fill the silence. “I don’t know why. I just had a feeling that was unlike any I’ve ever had before. And then I felt very cold, as though my heart were gripped by ice.”

Nightshade continues looking at me intently. Suddenly he stands up and his dark robes cascade to the ground. He opens a scroll with his back to me.

“Your abilities are awakening,” he murmurs. “You are probably one of the prophesied. And Prince Thornheart the other. You and the prince have a psychic tether.”

“A psychic tether?” I ask, furrowing my brow.

“You are linked,” continues Nightshade. “You will know something of him and him of you even if you are apart.”

“Then was the voice…was that the prince?” I ask.

“No,” replies Dorian, “That was a Dark One.”

“What?!” I exclaim.

“The histories all say that the Dark Ones were very psychically gifted. They could talk to people inside of their minds. Because of your…abilities…you are a natural target for their communication,” replies Dorian dispassionately, still speaking facing the scroll.

I shudder and grip my head with both hands. Why me? What do they want from me?

“I don’t feel particularly able to do anything,” I say speaking into my knees.

Dorian Nightshade turns around to face me. “Of course you are able,” he says with no inflection.

He turns around again and I realize how slight his frame is. His dark robes make him seem larger than he is. “You may need some training, however,” he says still scanning the scroll.

“Training?” I say.

“Yes. Training in magic,” he says.

I unclasp my hands from around my knees and go to the table. The scroll he is leaning over is covered in obscure symbols and very small writing. Again in a language I do not recognize.

“I thought all the mages were gone,” I say.

“Not quite,” says a crackling voice from behind.