Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles #1)(62)

“Good, good.” Vanesse rubbed Jasminda’s hand between her own. “I hope that we can get to know one another. I would very much like that.”

“Me, too.” This was why she’d come to Rosira in the first place.

“There’s a place we can meet where no one will see. Though you may have to invest in a good-sized cloak, or perhaps some face paint so you’re not recognized.”

Whatever else Vanesse said was lost to the rushing in Jasminda’s ears. Her aunt could only get to know her in secret. Hidden corridors, cloaks, and face paint. Late-night rendezvous and secret trysts. Was there no one who would bring their acquaintance with her out into the light of day?

She pulled her hand out of Vanesse’s grasp and stood on shaky legs. “I’m supposed to meet with some of the refugees now. I have to go.”

Someone else’s secret. Someone else’s shame.

She left behind the question on Vanesse’s face and the call of her name on the woman’s lips.




Jasminda wasn’t certain she’d be able to locate the tent where the Keepers had met the previous day. And even if she did, would any of them be there? They might have changed locations to maintain their secrecy. Especially if the camp really housed spies for the True Father. Though this was hard for her to believe—every face she saw seemed more downtrodden than the last. She fingered her silk dress, now self-conscious of the finery she was afforded because she happened to have been born on a certain side of the border.

A light rain began to fall as she wandered the lanes of the camp. Some of the tents had what she assumed were Lagrimari characters painted on them, but none matched the characters she’d seen on the Keepers tent.

Then she spotted Osar, playing with a group of children in the entrance to a tent. He grinned wide and waved, putting a smile on her face.

Around the corner, she found Rozyl chatting with three of the Keepers from the mountain. She dreaded asking the woman for anything, but she had little choice. The rain was falling harder now, and the thin fabric of her dress absorbed the water, chilling her. As she approached, a ripple of unease charged the air. The Keepers had their faces to the sky, as if they were listening to something.

“What’s wrong?” Jasminda said, but her question fell on deaf ears.

She reached for Rozyl, brushing her hand to get the woman’s attention. A violent press of Earthsong rose and slammed against her like a physical push. Rozyl turned, her surprise indicating she’d felt the force, as well, and hadn’t caused it. Jasminda couldn’t separate herself and was plunged directly into the flow of Rozyl’s connection to Earthsong.

Jasminda cried out, suffocated by the maelstrom of energies of so many people around her. Pain, white and hot, lanced through her body, blinding her. Somehow she had linked to Rozyl’s power, and it felt like being crushed into paste. Suddenly, a filter emerged between her and Rozyl’s Song, like a window shade pulled down to hide the glare of the sun. It muted the volume of the energy, and the vise around her chest loosened.

She was still uncomfortable but could now pick out details in the Earthsong surrounding them. The nearby soldiers—tension rippling through them, fear and distrust pulsing like blood in their veins. The fear of the refugees, the hope and the hopelessness. Their heavy hearts and minds.

Finally, she was able to tear her hand from Rozyl’s. She coughed and gasped, relieved to break the connection. Rozyl regarded her with disbelief.

“How did you link with me?” Rozyl said, looking at her like her hair were made of spiders.

Jasminda shook her head. She’d had no intention of linking with anyone.

“And why did you not shield yourself?”

“Shield?” So that must be how Earthsingers coexisted in large numbers. Again, Jasminda shook her head. “My father was the only other Earthsinger I knew. He did not teach me.” She wondered what other lessons she had missed.

“Your Song is so weak.”

Jasminda shrugged, her breathing slowly returning to normal. “My brothers could not sing at all.”

“Half-breed. I don’t know why it must be you,” she said with disgust, and took off down one of the wider paths through the tents.

“I don’t know what just happened, but I didn’t ask for it, either. I didn’t ask to be the only one the caldera will work for,” Jasminda called out, racing after Rozyl’s quick steps. The other woman ignored her, and soon they emerged at the camp’s entrance where a crowd had grown. Rozyl disappeared into the throng of people.

Still shaking from the unexpected force of the link, Jasminda strained for a better view of what had captured everyone’s attention. “What’s happening?” she whispered to a woman cradling a sleeping baby.

“I think they’re holding back the rations.”

Jasminda moved to the front of the group to verify. Vanesse and two other Sisters stood near a line of soldiers arguing with the captain. At their feet were the crates of rice, potatoes, and vegetables sitting out in the rain.

“You cannot keep rations from these people. I won’t allow it,” the oldest Sister said.

Jasminda approached, mindful of why Jack had wanted her here in the first place. A few other refugees broke away from the crowd and drew nearer to the soldiers, as well.

“Is there a problem delivering the rations, Captain?” Jasminda said.