Like most of her training, Alena didn’t quite understand how her techniques worked. This was no different. She wanted to strengthen the bond between them, to have something to hold onto when they faced the queen. But she didn’t know exactly how to achieve that.
So she followed her instincts. She took the string in her hand and tied one piece to his right wrist. Then she tied that string to her own wrist. Another string appeared in her hand and she repeated the process with the other wrist, then again with each ankle.
With every connection, she felt her brother more clearly. Some of his emotions bled into her. He was calm. She couldn’t understand how he could remain clearheaded in such difficult times.
How many connections should she create? Her instinct told her that more connections would secure the two of them more tightly together, but there was a danger. With every string that connected them she could see his thoughts more clearly. If she bound them too tightly she feared they might not remain as individuals.
Not for the first time, she wished she had a guide to this affinity.
When she thought she had found a safe balance, she stepped back and viewed her work. The strings lengthened as needed.
Alena stepped out of the soulwalk. Even with her eyes open she felt her brother, calm and rooted like a tree beside her. “How do you feel?”
He held up his hand and stared at it. “Fine. But nervous.” He bit his lower lip. “That’s you, isn’t it?”
“Probably.”
Jace grunted. “That’s strange. Do you always feel so uncertain?”
“Not always. Sometimes I’m terrified, too.”
He laughed.
“It’s not every day I tie myself to someone like this. But thank you. I can’t believe how calm you are.”
He gave a small shrug. “It’s nothing. Are we done? I don’t want to miss the others’ departure.”
They stood and rejoined the Etari and wished the riders well. As Jace said his farewells, Alena paid attention to the emotions running through her. She could feel Jace’s, more subtle than her own. He was sorry to see the riders go.
Jace’s emotions reminded her of a lesson she’d learned two years ago. She understood the temptation to use soulwalking to fix so many common problems. How strong could a relationship be if each partner were tied together in this way? There would be no guesswork, no lies.
She couldn’t see it working, though. People needed separation. As soon as she returned from her defense of the gate, she intended to sever these connections.
The riders broke away, riding hard toward the north. Jace waved farewell, the imperial gesture out of place in the plains of Etar. Then it was just the three of them. Ligt looked to her, seeking guidance.
She hadn’t heard from Brandt. “We can travel. When the time comes, I will let you know.”
They packed up their own camp and resumed their journey. Alena steeled herself for the fight to come. The last time, her fight had brought her to the gates of death, a myth made suddenly real.
She kept sneaking glances at Jace, knowing that he could feel her turbulent emotions. But his face was impassive.
She would return to her family. She wouldn’t abandon Jace, never again.
But one thought troubled her.
If the queen defeated her and sent her to the gates, would her connection with Jace kill him, too?
9
Brandt broke away from Ana’s embrace. As they separated he ran his hand down her arm, stopping to clasp her hand one last time before turning his back on her.
They both understood danger. Before their marriage, they had fought side by side as wolfblades, among the first warriors the emperor sent into battle. But this felt different. This moment held a finality he didn’t usually experience. He couldn’t imagine not seeing her again.
Brandt shook his head and forced his eyes forward. Behind him, Ana closed the door to their chambers, leaving Brandt alone in the long hallway.
Two days had passed since the decision to attack was made. The days had crawled by since, Brandt’s normal routine disrupted by the emperor’s various preparations. He’d done little but dread this moment.
Now he wished he had squeezed more out of that time.
He passed through the rows of guards and into the study beyond, where the emperor waited alone.
The emperor stood up from the chair he’d been reclining in, not wasting a moment. “Ready?”
“Not at all.”
Hanns’ smile was grim. “Me neither. Shall we?”
Brandt nodded.
He followed the emperor down the secret passage. At times he ran his hands along the walls of the tunnel, still amazed by the craftsmanship.
So many mysteries.
And not an answer to be found.
They reached the gate, glowing with unworldly energies. The two men stood in silence, pausing before the task. The emperor broke the silence. “Alena?”
“She will join us.”
“Summon her.”
Brandt closed his eyes. He didn’t understand mental affinities, and a part of him remained surprised every time they worked for him. He imagined standing on a cliff overlooking an expansive valley. In his imagination he cupped his hands to his mouth. “Alena!”
His voice echoed in his imagination, so loud he almost clapped his hands over his ears.
The power of the gate, he supposed. This close, everything was stronger.
In return he felt an assurance she would arrive. In his experiences in this space, Brandt had learned to trust his emotions, to read more into them than he usually did. The mental affinity intertwined with emotions in ways that defied easy explanation. But he was confident that the assurance he felt was most likely from Alena.
Brandt opened his eyes. “She will be with us soon.”
The emperor nodded, studying the gate as though for the first time. “It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
“What?”
“I forget sometimes, lost in the details, how miraculous these gates are. Why do they even exist? What was their original purpose?”
“You really don’t know?”
“No. Anders I learned how to use them, and was the first in the empire to have some inkling of what they were capable of, but
