“Laughter?” Lucian repeated.
“Could it have been her own laughter she was hearing?” the shopkeeper whispered, her dark eyes shooting to Lucian.
“M-my laughter?” Effie stammered, her eyes bouncing between the two of them.
She looked up at Lucian, waiting for his answer. He was staring at her, his expression drawn, bronze fire flashing in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, his hand snaking out and covering hers, halting its frenzied movement.
Effie glanced down, surprised to see that she’d been scratching at her arms hard enough to draw blood. The buzzing still raged inside of her, her skin feeling too tight, like she was going to burst from the vibrations inside of her.
Panic set it. Something was very, very wrong.
“I need Smoke.”
Something shifted in Lucian’s eyes, but she was too jumbled to make sense of anything else. Distantly, she heard the rustling of cloth and a low murmur of voices before her mind shut down, trying to protect her from the overwhelming assault of sensations.
Effie had no memory of returning to the citadel, nor of Lucian leaving her. By the time she was aware again, hours could have passed. It was the sound of fire crackling in a hearth that finally cut through the void, the sizzling pops providing her with an anchor to focus on as she pulled herself out of the darkness.
It didn’t take more than a cursory glance to tell that Lucian had brought her back to the Hall of Guardians. She was sitting in one of the high-backed chairs, a thick blanket that smelled faintly of him wrapped around her shoulders.
Kneeling before her was Smoke, his scarlet hood pushed back and her pale hand clasped between his.
“Welcome back, Daughter.”
Chapter 20
“Smoke.” His name left her lips in a warble.
She wasn’t sure why the sight of him brought such swift relief, or why she felt like she was on the verge of tears—except that he might be the only person to understand what just happened to her.
“Where’s Lucian?”
Smoke rose up from his knees, letting her hand fall limply into her lap. “I had to send him away.”
“Why?”
“So he could do what needed to be done.”
Effie couldn’t imagine he’d left her willingly. Lucian was too fiercely protective to leave her in a vulnerable state. Although, waiting around while she stared vacantly into the distance probably hadn’t been easy on him either. Her Guardian might have relished the opportunity to do something useful since he was incapable of doing anything to help her.
Either way, she harbored no ill will at his absence. It would be easier to discuss her mess of a vision with someone who could experience it himself and not have to worry about sounding like she’d lost her marbles.
“Are you ready to speak about what happened?”
Taking a deep breath, Effie tucked the blanket more tightly around her body as if she could absorb some of Lucian’s strength through the garment.
“I know that our prophecies are trapped in metaphors, but the images that came to me were . . . chaotic. Blurred faces, ash, tears, the sense of being on fire . . . laughter.” Effie shuddered, the cruel mocking sound echoing in her mind. Forcing herself to focus, she added, “There was no sense or reason to anything I Saw. Everything swirled together until it was all one jumbled mess. Even the pieces I could make out remained mostly out of focus or transformed into something else.”
“Do you feel that what you Saw was about yourself?”
Effie bit her lip, considering the question. “It’s hard to say, really.”
Smoke lifted up his hand. “Would you like me to—”
Before he could finish the question, Effie flinched away from him, quickly shaking her head. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Premonition?”
“No…” she responded slowly, checking herself for signs of the familiar buzz or tension.
He tilted his head and studied her. “Then why?”
Effie didn’t fully understand the answer to that question herself. It was just a gut reaction. Not having a better explanation, she settled for a different truth. “I guess I just don’t want to have to experience it again. It was awful enough the first time.”
“Very well.”
“That’s it? You aren’t going to insist?”
“I will always respect your privacy, Daughter. Your visions are your own; to share or not as you will. If what you Saw suggests imminent danger I would ask you to reconsider, but barring that,” he spread his arms and shrugged, “a verbal retelling works almost as well.”
“You aren’t upset with me?” she asked, more than a little relieved he wasn’t going to press the issue.
“Of course not.”
Feeling a little more settled, Effie asked a question that had been bothering her. “Smoke, what’s happening to my visions? Why are they . . . devolving?”
She didn’t voice the real concern: that if her visions were no longer trustworthy, then she was no good to anyone. She wasn’t ready to hear that without her gift, there was no place for her with the Keepers.
“Who says they are?”
“What?” she blurted in surprise.
“Just as the symptoms of visions change with time, so do the visions themselves. It is not uncommon for the future to appear fragmented or abstract. The more in flux the outcome, the more chaotic the vision. It is simply the nature of your gift.”
“You mean . . . this is . . . normal?”
“What is ever normal about prophecy?”
He was so matter-of-fact, so damn unaffected by what felt like a cataclysmic shift to her, that she couldn’t stop the incredulous laughter from bubbling up. Nothing got beneath that rune-covered skin of his. Except your past, she reminded herself, sobering slightly. If Smoke said this wasn’t unusual, all she could do was trust that he would not lie to her about something so important.
“So, you’re not worried about it?”
“Should I be?”
This was her chance to ask him. To give voice to the secret fear lurking within her. Effie opened her mouth, the words crowding on the tip of her tongue.
Smoke tilted his head, waiting for her to speak.
Heart racing, Effie closed her mouth and shook her head. She couldn’t do it. Not yet.
“No, I guess not,” she murmured finally. “I just didn’t realize it wasn’t unusual for visions to change. I’d become sort of used to them making more sense.” She frowned. “Well, okay, maybe not sense, per se, but at least being a little less fragmented.”
“Understandable.”
“So, what now?” she asked, looking up from the silver embroidery on his sleeve.
“Since you do not feel prepared to show me, I need you to describe your vision as best you can. Even fragmented, your vision contains a warning. With a second marker having passed—”
Effie jolted as if he’d burnt her. “A second marker? How? When?”
“The massacre in the jungle—”
“And you’re just now telling me!” she shouted.
Smoke held up his hands to stop her angry tirade. “You knew it was a possibility, but we only managed to confirm it today.”