Image (Insight #3)(21)

“I just think they’re missing something. They’re mixing Alyianna, Jayda, Willow,” he said, looking at me and my charm. “I’m sure you’ve lived more than three times; there are at least four languages on that scroll. Last night, August admitted that there could be more – that some of the languages are so close, it’s hard to distinguish them.” Marc crossed his arms and looked at Landen, then continued, “We just can’t afford for them to have something wrong. Did you feel that power that knocked her across the room? I mean, it just moved above me and Dane, and it almost knocked us down...this isn’t a game of who gets the girl...it’s bigger than that...bigger than we can even imagine.”

Dane was nodding along with Marc. They weren’t afraid; they were resentful. They hated that we had to weave through Pelhan’s slow lessons and Perodine’s allusive truths.

“Right now, I’d rather unravel half truths than sit around and wait for the unknown,” Landen said, putting his hand on my back and guiding me out of the room.

We all made our way back to the hallway. When we’d reached the point where it ended, we stood across a banister. Now that it was daylight, we could see out of the large windows. The workers along the wall were missing, but we could see them in the distance, gathered in large groups.

“They’re anxious,” Landen said, focusing on them.

“Well, as long as they’re not angry, that’s good - I suppose,” I said.

Landen nodded in agreement. I envied that he could feel them all. I hated and loved that I had a barrier to almost half of this dimension. I loved the fact that I wouldn’t be tormented by the depths of their darkness, but I hated that Landen had to feel it. I couldn’t even feel them through him; he had to bear it on his own. We’d had deep discussions on the matter over the past few days as we helped restore Delen. I’d ask countless times for him to tell me what the workers were feeling; I thought that if I knew, I could find a way to break through to them - to release them. Landen, though, seemed content with my barrier; he felt it was protecting me.

“Maybe the two of you should give a speech of something,” Dane said.

“What are they going to say?” Marc argued. “Um…there’s a devil that’s trying to overtake us, so we have to take a break from defending you against the rest of the world – but don’t worry, we have these books and this scroll...it’ll be fine,” he mocked.

“No,” Dane said as he rolled his eyes at Marc. “But I think they’re more than aware that our family didn’t show up today and that the two of you are in here,” Dane said shortly.

Landen reached for Marc’s shoulder, and I reached for Dane’s arm; they were letting the pressure get to them, and we wanted them to feel calm. They each let out a deep breath with our touch.

“Save that,” Marc said. “I can see that your Aura is dimming,” he warned.

Landen nodded and let go of Marc, then looked at Dane.

“I understand what you’re saying, Dane – but we don’t want to do anything that will give the people of Delen the impression that we’re going to rule over them. And, if we told them what we were facing, the darkness would feed off their fear. We have just over thirty hours before this will all be over; we need them all to be calm,” Landen explained.

Dane nodded, understanding Landen’s point of view. We walked to where the hallway began and resumed the task of turning the paintings. The doorways led to small rooms with only simple beds and tables inside them; we assumed we were in a servant’s wing. We felt like we were making faster progress. As the hallway expanded, the paintings grew larger, and little nooks led to short hallways with only sitting rooms in them. We were growing braver, and we separated to gain more ground faster.

I wandered to the doorway on the left, where I could see small frames lining the walls. I looked back and saw Landen and Marc turning a large painting. Dane was covering the mirrors, and the breaking of glass still made me jump. At the end of the hall was a bay window, and the light from it and the dim lamps was the only light in the nook. I took in a deep breath and started turning the small paintings, deciding to walk down one way, then up the other.

I’d made it to the middle of the hall when I came across a painting too large for me to turn on my own; it was of who I assumed was Donalt in his younger years. He was sitting a golden chair, and the back of it raised two feet above his head. The look in his eyes was surprisingly warm. I know from my own work that you can’t paint what you can’t see, and it seemed Perodine was right: at least one time in Donalt’s life, he had the warmth of a soul shining through his eyes. It was sad to think that it was possible for us to forget how to love one another.

Out of nowhere, a gust of wind blew my hair, the doors to the hall slammed shut, and the dim lights fluttered with the vibration. I froze and let my eyes search over the shadows in the hall, then held my breath when a man’s figure began to emerge. When the light came across his face, I saw that it was Drake; a sense of relief came over me because I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but my eyes questioned why he was there. As he stepped closer, I could see that he was hurt; there was a slash across the side of his neck. l looked from the wound to his eyes, which stared blankly at me, and his face held no emotion; his eyes were so cold.

In one swift step, he reached for me, and when his skin touched mine, I felt paralyzed; his mesmerizing touch was stronger that it had ever been - so strong, I could barley breathe. He pushed my back against the painting I was standing in front of, and I fell limp in his arms as his hands slowly moved across my body. I wanted to stop him, to push him away, but I couldn’t find the strength to move; it was terrifying. As he leaned in and began to move his lips across my neck, I managed only the strength to whisper, “Drake, you’re scaring me.”