Vanish (Firelight #2)(15)

I glance uneasily at Nidia by the window. She focuses on her knitting, but I’m not so foolish to think she’s not absorbing every word, spoken and unspoken.

As though she wants to make sure I catch her meaning, Tamra asks, “But you didn’t, did you? You didn’t do what you should have.”

“Tamra,” Cassian says warningly. As though he’s trying to protect me. From my own sister. The irony isn’t lost on me that I spent years protecting Tamra from him. Even if he didn’t know it, he hurt her constantly with his cold indifference.

“Stay out of this,” I growl.

“Cassian, come.” With a jerk of her head, Nidia rises and motions to the door.

Cassian nods. Together, they step outside, leaving us alone to talk.

I inch closer to the couch. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

Her features soften. “Neither do I.”

“So,” I say lamely, sitting across from her. “How’s it going? How are you handling all of . . . this?”

“Pretty good.” She glances out the window at air that grows murkier with every moment. After a minute she looks back at me with her frosty gaze. “Come with us tonight. We’ve never flown together. I want you there.”

“Sure,” I agree. Flying always revives my spirit, gives me strength. I could use that now. “When does Nidia start training you?”

“Actually we’ve already begun,” she says with a laugh. “Which is basically her talking a lot and giving an occasional demonstration. She says I’ll get to try it again soon.”

I couldn’t ask for a better lead-in.

“About that, how much damage do you think you did that night?”

She blinks those crystalline eyes, looking so otherworldly right then. Like those eyes are looking at me through some kind of veil while the real Tamra hides beneath, buried away.

“Damage?”

I wince. Too late, I realize I should have chosen a better word. A nicer word. Her talent is a gift. Each draki talent is a gift. That’s what we’re taught since primary school anyway. Even talents best geared to create harm. Like fire-breathers.

She’s a shader. A draki that doesn’t have to harm anyone to protect and save lives. I should be so lucky.

I quickly try to recover. “I mean do you know the extent of”—I wave a hand—“of what you did that night?”

She looks at me intently with her ghost eyes, making me squirm.

“You cleared their memories, but do you know how far back you erased?” I pluck at the edge of a pillow. “Do you have any idea—”

“This is about Will, isn’t it?” She drags a hand through her silvery hair. “You want to know how much of you I cleared from his memories, is that it?”

The sound of her voice is tinny in my ears and makes me nervous . . . like a wire that’s about to snap and might catch me in the face. I shake my head, knowing instinctively that I don’t want to hear whatever she’s about to say. “N-no—”

“You haven’t let any of it go, have you?” she asks evenly, but the words feel as though she yells them. “You’re still hung up on him.”

“No,” I deny, but my voice sounds small and weak. Even I can’t convince me. “That’s not true. I know I have to let him go, but it’s not just a switch I can flip off. I wish it were.”

She sighs. “I guess I can understand that. I pined long enough for someone I stood no chance of winning.” She means Cassian, of course. “But you can’t ever forget that he’s a human. You can’t keep going on loving a guy who hunts our kind.”

A sharp gasp rips the air behind me. Jumping to my feet, I spin, spotting Az and Miram, Cassian’s sister, in the open doorway.

Nidia stands behind them, her expression shocked and regretful. “Tamra, you have more . . . visitors,” she says lamely.

Cassian is there, too, towering over them all. The look in his eyes makes me feel foolish and pathetic. I take a long-suffering blink, wishing suddenly I’d told Az about Will rather than have her walk in on the truth like this. Opening my eyes again and seeing her face, I feel my stomach sink.

I make a move toward her.

“Is it true?” she demands, looking only at me. “You fell for a hunter? One of those . . . dogs that chased us through the forest? Tried to kill us?”

I can see in her eyes that the memory still haunts her, and I know with a sick twist of my heart that she’ll never believe that Will is anything but an animal.

“Please, Az. Let me explain. Will’s not—”

“This is priceless,” Miram cuts in with relish.

“Miram,” Cassian rebukes his sister. She just shrugs.

Az drops the basket she’s carrying. Fruit and muffins tumble to the floor as she turns and flees.

“Az,” I whisper, the look of betrayal on her face permanently etched in my mind. Another guilty memory.

Miram remains. With a grin spreading across her face, she’s the most animated I’ve ever seen her. Visiocrypters don’t show much emotion. They don’t show much of anything. That’s part of their nature. Bland, sandy-colored hair with eyes to match. They’re nondescript, equipped to blend into the background.

“Oh, this is good,” she says. “I can’t wait to tell everyone.”