The Sweet Far Thing - Page 42/257

I return the gesture and am ushered inside the cave. Two of the Hajin carry bushels of bright red poppies gathered from the fields below. They sort through them, taking only the good, which they weigh on large scales before feeding them to the smoke pots. As I pass, the Untouchables welcome me warmly, offering flowers and smiles.

“Have you come to return the magic to the Temple?” Asha asks.

“Not just yet. But I shall,” I assure her.

Asha bows, but I see from her lack of a smile that she does not believe me. “How may the Hajin be of help to you?”

“I should like to approach the well of eternity.”

“You wish to face your fears?”

“There is something I must put to rest,” I answer.

She shakes her head slowly. “Putting to rest is not so easy. You are free to enter.”

A wall of water separates me from what lies within. I need only pass through it, and I will know for certain. My lips are dry with fear. I moisten them with my tongue, try to steady myself. Holding my breath, I push through the water’s skin, and then I’m inside the sacred heart of the Temple.

The well of eternity sits in the center. Its deep waters make no sound. Heart hammering in my chest, I approach the well, until my fingers light upon the rough edge of it. I can scarcely draw a breath. My tongue catches against the roof of my mouth. I grip the edge of the well tightly and peer in. The water inside has turned to ice. My face is reflected in its smoky surface. I trace the outline of it there.

A woman’s face presses against the surface, and I stumble back, gasping. Her features emerge from the murky deep of the well. The eyes and mouth are closed as in death. Her face is bleached of all color. Her hair floats on the water beneath the ice like the rays of a dark sun.

Circe’s eyes snap open. “Gemma…you’ve come.”

I back away further, shaking my head. My stomach lurches. I want to vomit. But fear keeps me from doing even that. “You…you’re dead,” I whisper. “I killed you.”

“No. I live.” Her voice is a strangled whisper. “When you bound the magic to yourself, you trapped me here. I shall die when the magic is returned.”

“And I’m g-glad of it,” I stammer, walking quickly toward the wall of water that separates this terrible room from the Caves of Sighs.

Circe’s eerie voice echoes in the cave like the imagined murmurs of demons. “The Order is plotting against you. They plan to take back the realms without you.”

“You’re lying,” I say, shivering.

“You forget, Gemma—I was one of them for a time. They’ll do anything to have the power again. You can’t trust them.”

“You’re the one I can’t trust!”

“I did not kill Nell Hawkins,” she says, naming the girl whose blood is on my hands.

“You gave me no choice!” But it’s too late. She has found my wound and gouged it further.

“There is always a choice, Gemma. While there is time, I can teach you to harness your power, to make it obey you. Do you want it to lead you, or will you be its master?”

I approach the well cautiously. “My mother might have taught me in time. But she never got the chance. You killed her first.”

“She killed herself.”

“To keep her soul safe from you and that horrid Winterlands creature—that tracker! She did not wish to be corrupted! I’d have done the same.”

“I wouldn’t have. For a daughter such as you, I’d have fought with my very last breath. But Mary was never much of a fighter, not like you.”

“You’ve no leave to speak of my mother,” I snap.

I steal a quick glance, and for a second, I see in her face something of who she once was, a glimpse of my former teacher, Miss Moore. But then she speaks, and that chill runs up my spine.

“Gemma, you needn’t worry about me. I would never harm you. But I might still help you. And all I ask in return is to have a taste of magic again—just once more before I die.”

For a moment, her words sow doubt under my skin. But she is not to be trusted. It’s only a ploy to get the power. She hasn’t changed. “I’m leaving.”

“There is a plan in motion. You cannot imagine what dangers you face. You cannot trust the Order. Only I can help you.”

I was wrong to come. “You’ll get nothing from me. You can rot in there for all I care.”

She slips below the shadowy surface of the water, and the last thing I see before she disappears is one pale hand that seems as if it’s reaching toward me.