In the Wake of the Ruined (The Siren Mage, #2)(69)

And though I couldn’t articulate why, the word that came to mind was boundless. Like the sea. Like the air. She moved the world around her. Her emotions ebbed and flowed with lucent power. Without even trying, she could alter the air in my chest.

Little wonder she fought like hell to be free.

I kept myself rooted beside the old hedgerow. “You lied.”

Slowly, she met my gaze and spent a long moment searching for her words. “You can tell.”

It wasn’t a question. She didn’t seem surprised.

“When I was younger,” she said, “Agatha used to tell me it was my eyes that gave me away. That I would blink too much.” She attempted a partial smile. “Do I still?”

I stepped closer. “No.”

The crease between her brows deepened. “What, then?”

“You stare too intently. You go too remote.”

She gave an empty, ironic laugh.

I went to her then. Stopped before her and lowered myself so we were eye to eye. “Tell me what happened.”

She recoiled. “If… if I do, if I acknowledge it—”

Her voice cracked and she squeezed her eyes shut. I took her warm hand in mine and drew my fingers over the back of it as she breathed. The mist grew thicker, filling in between us. Finally, she looked up around the garden in wistful silence.

“Theo?” she whispered. “Do you think you could make something grow here?”

I squeezed her hand at the question, not certain how to answer.

“I just thought that—” Tears were collecting on her bottom lashes. “You could clear that spell from my stomach—I thought maybe…”

I turned her hand over in mine, so her scarred palm faced the strange sky. “You know, if we were bound again, you could try it yourself.”

She tried to glare at me, sweet little lines creasing her nose and eyes as she did. There was no ferocity in the look, though, and my mouth curled into a smile.

“Shame on you for being relentless when I’m down.”

“Is that a yes?”

She shook her head, regretfully. “No.”

I’d not expected her to agree, but a carving pain still moved through my chest. I nodded my understanding and then pressed my hand to the earth at her feet. “I’ll try.”

My power dove through the soil. Through the blight and old roots. Just as it had been when I’d healed Imogen, a cold, draining sensation overtook me, as if a slow frost crept through my flesh. I bent with concentrated effort, swaying as my energy drained further.

Imogen reached for my shoulders to steady me. “Theo?”

My vision threatened to dim as a bright green sprout broke through the dry earth. It grew quickly, stem stretching, leaves broadening, and then a deep-purple bloom cracked open and unfurled. A wildflower.

I met her honeyed eyes. “The land is very sick.”

She nodded as the gentle rainfall gathered and rolled down her cheeks like tears.

I plucked the flower then brushed its soft petals down the angle of her face, over the raindrops, along the line of her jaw. Her dark lashes fluttered closed.

The quiet grew heartrending, and I needed to fill it, if only briefly. “Did you know that Anthemoessa’s wildflowers were a gift from Panos to Ligea when she took up her crown?”

Imogen flinched, then forced her face smooth. “I’m sure Agatha taught me that once.” Tears made her voice heavy. “It was Ligea in the pool.”

I sucked in a breath, furious with myself that I hadn’t guessed. “Imogen.”

“I’m all right—”

“You’re not.” I cradled her face. Rose up to bring her close. “Is she… alive?”

Imogen went still. “She was. Barely.”

Understanding hit me so squarely, I nearly lost my air.

“That pool and the veins in it kept Eusia and Ligea connected,” she said. “I expect the empress put Agatha in there to keep the whole thing alive—my mother included. But if Eusia was willing to sever herself from Ligea, she must feel very confident that she’ll get me.”

I pulled her closer, wrapping her in my arms.

Her chest heaved. “This is my fault—”

“Imogen, stop,” I said into her hair, fingers tightening around the nape of her neck.

“No.” She choked on a sob. “On that beach, the day I took the severing draught, I told Halla that I intended to kill Eusia. Halla must have told her mother. And the empress raced here so that she could whisk Eusia to safety. Halla has tried to convince me of her good intentions, she said she would help, and I—” Her tears cut her off.

“Shhhh.”

Imogen had come back to me with a small crack in her. Her pain leaked through it in drops, but now that crack was a gaping hole. Everything that she’d held back and shoved deep poured from her in a torrent of feeling. I held her steady through the purge, doing my utmost to hide my worry. If she knew how helpless I felt, she would surely feel the same.

Lachlan’s piercing whistle sounded through the air, calling for us.

Imogen pulled in a deep breath and dragged her arm across her sniffiing nose. She straightened her spine. It both impressed and pained me to watch her gather up all her pain and gulp it back down. She took on a sudden regality, her face uncharacteristically stark. Only her swollen eyes gave her away. But austerity didn’t suit her.