Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(42)

Her mind and heart tugged her in opposite directions. What an awful choice to have to make. She felt herself growing sick with worry. What if she chose wrong? What if her choice filled her with endless regret?

“Only you can decide, little sister,” said Maderos.

“How can I?” Cettie asked. She looked imploringly at Owen. “How can I know which is the right one?”

Owen gave her a sympathetic smile. “I cannot choose for you. But I’ve come to recognize the right path usually is the harder one. You’ll never climb a mountain and reach new heights if you keep taking the easy path down.”

What he said made sense. In the deepest part of her heart, she knew what she should do. The difficulty of it cowed her, but she knew losing her memories would be the selfish course. It would serve one person, her, and it would limit the greatest good she could do for others. She regretted her decision to join the poisoner school. If she could atone for it in some way, she was willing. Even if the cost was her life.

That thought filled her heart with peace and her eyes with tears. She knew what she needed to do, no matter the heartache. No matter the pain.

“I’ll do it,” she whispered, choking. She sniffed and shook her head. “I will do what I must to regain the trust the Mysteries had in me.” She looked up at Maderos. “I will serve.”

An approving smile appeared on his face.

“Kneel, little sister,” Maderos said. “You will close your eyes. Open yourself to the Knowing as you learn this Mystery. Never reveal it. Guard it in your heart as a treasure.”

Cettie knelt in the scrub, feeling the brittle twigs and fallen leaves snap beneath her weight. She adjusted her poisoner’s bag so that it was behind her, hanging from the strap around her shoulder. She closed her eyes, obedient to Maderos’s words.

“There will come a Dryad to you,” Maderos said, his voice soft. “They are the guardians of memory. The guardians of the portals between the worlds. There is one watching this tree, and another watching the one in the grove you just left in Brythonica. Do not look at her, lest she steal all your memories, until after she has kissed you. When she has, you may open your eyes. And you will remember. To become an Oath Maiden, you must accept certain oaths. In doing so, you will be granted special power. If you forsake them, the consequences are dire.”

“I will accept them,” Cettie said in a firm voice.

“Hold out your hand,” Maderos said. “Put it over mine.” She heard the clacking of stones, and when she tentatively reached out, she felt several pebbles in his rough palm. She laid her open hand over them.

“These are the five oaths. There will be four more later if you are faithful to these. Never slay a man with pistol, arquebus, or arrow. In return, you will not be slain by such. Never take a life unawares or out of revenge. Never hearken to greed or take a bribe. Never swear an oath falsely. Never refuse to serve when the Mysteries compel you—even at the peril of your life or loved ones.”

As Cettie heard the oaths, her heart tingled inside. She felt a swelling of power, of the magic of the Mysteries embracing her. It felt right. It felt like she had, in truth, returned home.

“I swear it,” Cettie said forcefully.

“Just say, yes, little sister. That will suffice.”

“Yes,” Cettie said.

Maderos retrieved the stones. “Remember the oaths you have taken. If you stand true to them, nothing you are called to do will be impossible. But if you lose heart, as you did before, you will be overwhelmed by darkness for good. This is my warning to you, little sister. Now be still. Do not open your eyes until after the Dryad’s kiss.”

Cettie clasped her hands together, feeling the breeze ruffle the hair on her neck. The woods smelled so clean, so pure. She heard no other sounds than that of nature, not even the breathing of the others. She felt alone, as if the others had left.

“Are you still there?” she asked.

Silence met her. Then she heard a snapping twig from near the tree. The compulsion to look slammed into her mind. But she squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her fists too, and withstood the onslaught. Her ears strained to hear another sound—then she started when another crack filled the still air, this time much closer. She felt someone approach, and her arm hairs stood on end in anticipation of being touched. Her breathing had quickened, and so she focused on slowing it down. Do not panic, she told herself. She knew she was safe.

Fingers brushed through her hair. She willed herself to remain perfectly still.

Soft lips brushed against her mouth.

Cettie opened her eyes, looking into the amber eyes of the Dryad girl. And then the memories came crashing down on her, an avalanche that buried her in emotion. Cettie pitched forward, catching herself on one hand. Memory after memory, each knife-sharp and keen, slashed through her skull. The Fells, the slappings Miss Charlotte had given her. Mrs. Pullman’s cold menace and burning resentment. The sound of Joses’s laughter. Her fear as he went off to steal food for the other children. Flying on a zephyr for the first time. Holding Fitzroy’s hand. Adam Creigh’s faltering confession of love.

And then there were the memories she’d forgotten. The ones the Dryad had stolen from her in this very place. Cettie gasped as she realized that she did know Maderos. She’d met him in this grove on her last visit, and he’d advised her of her role as harbinger. It was he who’d Gifted her with that ability. Her arms and legs trembled as the memories continued to rush through her, opening her eyes.