Jocelynn Drake - Dawnbreaker

Close the door, Jabari ordered again.

I stretched out my focus and tried, but only succeeded in tearing another scream from my body. “I can’t,” I cried, my voice choked and shattered. “Too many.”

Too many what? Jabari demanded, his anger and frustration sending another shockwave of power through my frame. I could no longer feel my body. There was only pain, as if my entire being were made of it instead of bone and sinew.

“Doors. Thirteen doors,” I whimpered.

“Focus!” he shouted.

I cried out again as his power obliterated all thought. Now there was only light and pain. Somewhere in the light, I saw something move. I prayed it was death. I didn’t care about the humans, the naturi, or my kind. I just wanted the pain to end.

“Mira,” Danaus gently said.

He sounded close. I could feel his serenity, and struggled to grab hold of it. He carefully placed both of his hands on my waist, pulling me back into my body. I cried out again as the contact caused a brief spike in the power he was sending through me, but it soon evened out again.

“Can you hear me?”

“Please, stop,” I pleaded. I was crying, but I couldn’t feel the tears.

“Soon. We must close the doors,” he said. He sounded so patient, as if he wasn’t growing tired from the amazing amount of energy he was expending. He slowly slid his hands up my sides until they rested on my shoulders. His warmth was wrapping around me in a protective cocoon, and I clung to that small comfort.

“Can’t. Too many.”

“Can you close just one?” he asked. With amazing care, he slid his hands along my arms and threaded his fingers through mine, tightly clasping my hands. “Just close one door.” His lips brushed lightly against my ear as he spoke.

Mentally pushing aside all the others, I chose one door and pulled the two seams together. A sob lodged in my throat when the door closed, and I felt Danaus give my hands a reassuring squeeze. We moved slowly from one door to the next, pulling them together like stitching together bits of fabric. We were on the last door when the power in my body sharply dropped. While my initial reaction was relief, I knew something was wrong. I could no longer sense Sadira. It was as if she had completely disappeared. The void was deeper than if she had just cut off the connection, but I couldn’t hold onto the thought. It flitted away like a bit of stray paper caught up in a breeze, and my focus returned to the blinding pain that still beat through my entire body.

“Close the door,” Danaus prompted me when I paused.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You are stronger than Sadira. You always have been. Close the door.” His voice had taken on a new urgency. We were running out of time. I reached out with the last of the strength I could muster and pulled the door closed.

The white light disappeared and my vision slowly cleared. I saw Aurora standing there for the first time in more than five centuries. She looked like a sun goddess, with her long golden hair and perfectly tanned skin, regal in flowing white robes that danced about her in the wind. Staring at me, a malicious smile grew on her perfect face. She knew me; knew who I was and what I had done.

Still charged with the powers of Danaus and Jabari, I could sense the anger and fear of the naturi as they crowded around their queen. There were only a couple dozen of them, far fewer than they had hoped for. They outnumbered us. But we had closed their doors and defeated more than a score of them. I refused to believe that the entire naturi race had been able to run to freedom in the time it took me to close the doors. Most still had to be trapped on the other side. But then, I doubted that Aurora cared about those that had gotten left behind.

She was free.

Conscious thought slowly leaked back into my sluggish brain, followed by the pain. My body hurt beyond belief, forcing a whimper between my clenched teeth. I reluctantly opened my eyes, somewhat surprised to find I was still here. I lay on the ground with a collection of rocks digging into my back. Around me, white-gray stone rose up, indicating that I was still in the Main Plaza. The sky was beginning to lighten from its endless black velvet to a murky slate gray. Dawn was coming.

Slowly, I turned my head, my eyes falling first on Sadira’s lifeless body. She lay staring blindly up at the sky, an arrow protruding from her chest. Someone had gotten in a lucky shot, piercing her heart. She had died quickly.

As I turned my head back in the opposite direction, I felt an extremely sharp point dig into my cheek. My eyes continued in the same direction to find Rowe standing over me, with my sword pointing at me, the tip having prodded my skin. Not surprisingly, a wide grin was spread across Rowe’s face. And why not? He thought he had won. But I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. Not so long as I still had the power to move.

“Long time no see,” I said in a low gravelly voice. My throat was still raw from the screaming I’d done earlier. As I spoke, hoping to keep Rowe distracted, I reached out with my powers. Danaus was close by—still alive. Jabari was also close, to my surprise. The Ancient nightwalker could have disappeared and reappeared in the relative safety of Venice and the Coven the moment the tide turned against us. He had stayed, but it didn’t guarantee that he would be around for long.

“Yes, it has been too long, little princess,” Rowe purred. “Sorry I couldn’t make it to your little domain, but I had more pressing matters that needed my attention. But it doesn’t matter any longer. I have you now.”

“Let’s see if you have the ability to keep me,” I said, smiling back at him. Putting my empty hands on the ground on either side of me, I slowly pushed into a sitting position. My entire body screamed in protest at the movement, surrendering a whimper before I could stop it. Rowe followed my neck closely with the sword, ready to slice my head off in an instant if I moved too quickly.

“What are you going to do with her?”

It was a familiar voice, and I looked up to find Cynnia standing a few feet behind Rowe. Her beautiful white wings were once again exposed, partially stretched out from her back as if she was preparing to take flight. I think it was an anxious stance on her part. The dark horse she had bet on to win hadn’t come through, and now she found herself standing with her own kind again—her fate hanging in the balance, just as mine was.

“Her Majesty wishes to see her,” Rowe replied.

“And what will you do with me?” Cynnia asked.

“I imagine that Her Majesty will wish to speak with you as well,” Rowe bit out, refusing to remove his glare from me to the young nightwalker. I watched as Nyx silently walked over to us, a frown on her face.

“There’s nothing for you to be worried about, Nia,” Nyx calmly said, putting her hands on her sister’s wings. She applied a gentle pressure, as if forcing her to relax her stance. “We all know that the nightwalker held you captive, forced you to turn on your own kind. Aurora will understand.”

A dark smile crossed my lips as Cynnia finally looked down to meet my gaze. I knew we were both wondering the same thing: would Aurora buy such a story? Particularly when there remained some doubt in the air as to whether Aurora actually wanted her sister alive in the first place.

As we spoke, a large contingent of naturi walked over with their weapons drawn. There must have been something strange in their stance because Nyx moved Cynnia behind her as her right hand came to rest on the hilt of her sword. At the same time, Rowe’s smile slipped into a dark frown. I was willing to bet that this wasn’t the invitation they were hoping to receive from Aurora.