Dragon-Eyed Madness: Annals of the Dragon Dreamer, #4

By L. Darby Gibbs

In a world where trust is precarious, Zyla Powerbane finds herself at odds with her former mentor after stealing the mad melder from his clutches.

While some may argue that her act was justified in the name of rescue, questions arise about who truly betrayed whom. As realities shift and perceptions deepen, Zyla's focus turns away from mere words and towards the tangible consequences of her actions.

Imprisoned, tortured, and ultimately rescued, Zyla is no longer interested in empty rhetoric. With her path set on a new quest, she must make hard choices that may force her to forsake love, sever friendships, and plunge the Lynkyn forests into hiding once again.

As the stakes rise and vengeance beckons, Zyla must reckon with the cost of shattered trust. Will she pay the ultimate price for her actions, or will she find redemption amidst the chaos?

Embark on an epic fantasy journey filled with discovery, the pursuit of belonging, and trials by fire and dragon. Experience the raw power of Zyla Powerbane's story as she grapples with the consequences of her choices.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inkabout Publishing
• Release date: Jul 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215170793

L. Darby Gibbs

L. Darby Gibbs, an accomplished author, juggles a passion for storytelling with diverse hobbies like tandem bike riding, music, and home remodel.  Married for 44 years, Gibbs, a seasoned writer, transitioned from sci-fi to fantasy and romantasy genres, where dragons often take center stage.  Her latest venture, romantasy series Fifth Flight, promises more magical adventures.

Book preview

Dragon-Eyed Madness

Annals of the Dragon Dreamer, Book 4

L. Darby Gibbs

INKABOUT PUBLISHING

Dragon-Eyed Madness

Annals of the Dragon Dreamer, Book 4

Published by Inkabout Publishing at Draft2Digital

Copyright 2023 L. Darby Gibbs

All Rights Reserved

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the retailer of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. However, you may temporarily engage in daydreaming that they are real for your own enjoyment.

Cover art copyright 2023 Gibbs & Gibbs

Edited by Kendra’s Editing and Book Services

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An epic tale of rebellion, sacrifice, and the fragile magic that binds a world together.

Jounnar Tovlian has lost everything to the Caster Council’s ruthless crusade—the Lynkyn forest that once fed his soul, the dragons that guarded its heart, and the kin who called it home.

Now, as one of the strongest melders alive, he leads a secret resistance against the Council’s growing tyranny. If the forests fall, so too will the magic that sustains their world.

When Mylia Bovee joins Jounnar’s cause, her sharp wit and fearless heart bring an unexpected calm to his grief. But Mylia carries her own secrets—among them, her role as an informant for the very Council they fight.

Her mission began as a desperate search for her lost family, but one choice has marked her as a traitor.

Bound by magic and hunted by enemies, Jounnar and Mylia must learn to trust—or destroy—one another as they race to free the dragons and rekindle the dying forests. The fate of Rigaria’s magic rests in their hands… and time is running out.

Before the dragons were freed and the melders rose again, there was one act of defiance that started it all.

✨ Begin the legend with Dragon-Eyed Defiance — free when you sign up for L. Darby Gibb's newsletter.

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Table of Contents

Map of Rigaria

1.Leaving Wisery Behind

2.Moro Returns

3.Dragons Have Other Ideas

4.Down to the Cinders

5.When a Primer Meets a Dragon

6.Montomoro Renewed

7.Guilt and Revenge

8.Fire and Flight

9.Seeking Zyla

10.A Compelling Link

11.Don’t Try, Do

12.Ainth’s Dream

13.Element Restricted

14.Lynkyn Knowledge

15.Dodging Casters

16.Klasin vs. Moro

17.Dreaming Truth

18.Timing

19.Call Your Dragon

20.Lose Your Dragon

21.Negotiation

22.Whispers in the Link

23.The Grand Lynkyn Time Debate

24.Madness

Excerpt: Chapters from Dragon-Eyed Void

Chapter one

Leaving Wisery Behind

Zyla

Zyla Powerbane refused to wake, curling deeper into the warmth that surrounded her. A crick in her neck dragged a flicker of awareness that disturbed the cozy blackness of her dreams. Her hip chimed in, the muscles spasming where the pressure of her weight pinpointed the angle of her position in Seguin’s lap atop a horse in Wisery forest.

Shh, she told herself. Go back to sleep, and she almost did, except that beneath her, everything shifted. Zyla fell forward, pressing against an arm that failed to resist the falling angle of her torso.

She jerked into awareness.

Arms clutched her and dragged her back to the center of the saddle, and she opened her eyes with a start. A muffled snort puffed her face, and she lifted her chin and stared into Seguin’s brown eyes, which blinked away the drowsiness that still held him.

Hello, Firebrand. We almost took a tumble, he said.

Who do we have to thank for not— she glanced at the ground beneath Rorik’s ambling hooves—landing in a heap.

I believe Rorik noted our lack of balance and gave us a shaking.

You fell asleep. She glared at the twitching ears of their mount. Rorik saw the opportunity to have a laugh at their expense.

Only briefly. Seguin’s expression belied the insignificance of the lapse.

Rorik burbled. Zyla received the distinct impression of a harrumph coupled with a cynical you’re welcome. Bay followed behind, her tail swishing as if she was having happy thoughts.

Even after a nap, they were still inside Wisery Forest. If she bothered to think about it, she’d allow awe to creep into her view of the size of the new forest, but she wasn’t going to. She planted a seed to escape imprisonment, and that was all the thought she had available for the event. What she wanted was to find Canderbury. The early signs of rage bubbled in her chest, and her lungs tightened as if to prepare for pain.

She wasn’t ready to recall the torment she’d endured while trapped in the basement cell. How much farther do we have to go? she asked, twisting in Seguin’s lap to look ahead. No trail marked their path through the trees.

Wisery’s forest appears to be rather immense, Seguin said. I sense we’ve at least another half day of travel before we reach the edge.

She raised her voice and faced the huge Lynkyn trees they trailed through. Isn’t a Grand Lynkyn capable of speeding us through? She slumped, recalling they were going north. They should head south and cut Canderbury off from any planned escape. Her former mentor must suspect his future had a dark engagement ahead.

Firebrand, Seguin said, tugging at her attention. Are you planning to burn down the forest?

Not the forest. She pressed herself against Seguin’s chest, wedging her head under his chin. He tightened his hold, his arms drawing her closer. He still smelled of earth and mortar, but the warmth he emanated made her muscles languid.

Let’s leave reparations for another time. We both need to recuperate and organize. His lips sent a tingle through her scalp, from the top of her head down her neck, where it then traveled with amazing speed along her spine until her fingertips and toes tingled. Let’s just be us for a few days. Be mine for a few days.

And then? She held her breath. Would he suggest leaving her some place alone so he could run away just when she was thinking he’d gotten used to her loving him? Had she told him she loved him?

Then let me be yours. We’ll take turns.

A glorious tenderness filled her chest, and she laughed. Okay. I can do that. For a few days.

And then?

She leaned away and turned her face to his, her eyes closed. We’ll stop taking turns and be each other’s at the same time.

Risky. I might not want to go back to taking turns.

She opened her eyes and grinned at the merriment that danced in his.

I fell asleep, he said.

You did.

It’s partly your fault. His lips twisted sideways. We’ve been riding a long time, and you feel so good to hold. His hands slid down her ribs and rested on her hips. I suppose I got too comfortable, feeling very safe. He leaned in, and she curled her fingers at the back of his neck, meeting his kiss. After slowly pulling away, he took a deep breath, his eyes warm and his smile broadening. I think you should ride Bay for a while. I don’t see us making progress through the forest if we continue in this riding style.

And you have an argument against delays?

Seguin’s hand pushed her upright, gripping her upper arm when she wobbled and nearly pitched out of the saddle. She yanked her eyelids open.

Bay burbled. At least, the bay horse hadn’t taken the approach Rorik had earlier. A fitful shaking would have sent Zyla flying before Seguin steadied her. She considered her agreement to ride Madras’ horse may have left her open to taking a fall.

Seguin released her arm and grinned.

Maybe not. The man had enviable reflexes. I’m awake. She straightened her back and adjusted her grip on the reins.

Darkness faded the forest, the sun at an angle offering light that was only a few shades above gloom.

They were still heading north, and her creeping rage rushed like a flooded river over its banks.

Now you are. Seguin gazed ahead and rolled his broad shoulders. We need to stop and rest. It’s been a long day, and I think we’re not that far from the forest’s edge. I’d rather take our first night in Wisery in the safety of a Lynkyn forest.

The faint Lynkyn hum rose to an insistent level. The undercurrent of the trees’ voices, until then, had carried a sonorous sound. But now, a rumble announced a change.

The Lynkyn seemed to tilt away from them. Creaking and a loud snap sent both horses’ heads into the air, ears flicking forward and back, eyes wide. Rorik flipped his black tail against his flank. The ground rumbled, and, in a blink that Zyla swore barely met the designation, Wisery appeared in their path.

He’d filled out some, but not enough to avoid the description of gangly youth. A very tall, gangly youth. He wore variegated green trousers and a loose shirt wide open at the neck to reveal rough skin with the beginnings of the channels of maturity and experience. His emerald eyes danced away from direct eye contact.

Hello, Wisery, Zyla said.

Powerbane. He ducked his head as if he feared addressing her incorrectly. His long brown toes curled into the ground, turning up the soil. Though more like bundled roots, his feet served him adequately, which didn’t explain his interest in them.

She didn’t think the shyness would last. Of the three Grand Lynkyn she’d met before, not a one lacked confidence and force. He needed time to sort through the past Lyn had packed into his seed. Perhaps he was the most recent of her children. Would that make him more confident or less? A new seed carried fresh memories of the devastation of the Lynkyn forest and the incarceration of the dragons, whereas an old seed knew firsthand how strong the Rigarian forest once was. An old seed had a fresh awareness of what it could become again, but it lacked understanding of the current conditions.

Seguin sat in his saddle, relaxed, his hands crossed over the pommel as if he had all day to greet and meet a shy Grand Lynkyn. What brings you out for a visit?

Zyla dismounted and encouraged Bay to find a pleasant spot to stand. The horse shook her mane and propped her shoulder up against a tree as if prepared to share gossip.

I’ve linked heart roots with three forests.

Good for you, she said in what she hoped sounded like a motherly voice.

Bruhl, Harlee, and Tov, Wisery said.

You’ll have to introduce us to Harlee and Bruhl sometime, she said, smoothing her voice. Something in the surrounding trees suggested Wisery had bad news to impart. I’m not familiar with all the Grand Lynkyn.

You planted Harlee.

Ah, there’s that arrogance showing through, with a touch of peevishness for spice. Should she really know the name of every seed she planted? Some she left shortly after they cut the earth and spread their first leaves. I didn’t stay long enough for us to become acquainted. She didn’t let the information divert her from finding out why the Grand Lynkyn appeared. Was there something you wished to tell us?

You need to leave.

Seguin chose that moment to join the conversation. We are leaving. After a meal and a night’s rest, we’ll exit. He tugged at Rorik’s belly cinch and slid the wide leather strap smoothly out.

You need to leave now.

As in, without delay? Seguin asked. His hands gripped the saddle, ready to lift it. He paused and waited.

Wisery’s green gaze settled on Zyla. You cannot stay. Your emotions are distracting.

Seguin and Zyla traded raised brows, and her face grew warm. A tree made her blush. She frowned at him. With hundreds of years of knowledge available to him, her feelings for Seguin should not embarrass Wisery, even if he appeared to be a teenage boy. In what way are our emotions distracting you? They never bothered Est.

Seguin eyed Zyla, his expression tight, and set at once to reseating the saddle on Rorik.

What nettled him?

You are angry and want revenge, Wisery said, his emerald eyes pointedly aggressive. "It runs through us like a disease. I cannot concentrate on my tasks and wish to reach out and tear the casters into mulch. You must leave."

Seguin tightened the last strap, gave the saddle a tug, and stared at her from under his dark brows.

Well. Zyla crossed her arms over her chest. Her foot tapped, and she forced it to stillness. She picked at a chipped nail. I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable.

What if she stopped thinking about tearing casters into mulch? Seguin asked.

She won’t stop, Wisery complained. It is all she can think of.

That is not true. She had more self-control than that. I can think of other things. Her hands trembled and fisted.

In an instant, she was back in the cell, the flame burning in her chest. Canderbury’s voice hissed in her ear, I cannot battle a melder, especially a melder gone mad. But you will, and when I find you, madness you cannot imagine will destroy you.

She pressed her hands to her face, listening to the hum of the Lynkyn around her and a squirrel scampering along a bough. There was rustling through the ground cover. Bay nuzzled her ear, a loud huff tossing strands of red hair about her face. The pace of her heart slowed. There, she had control.

Darkness dropped over her, and she looked up, expecting to see Quoa blocking out the waning rays of the sun. Wisery towered over her. His youthful face twisted into a tight grimace. Hate fills you, and it poisons us.

Seguin stepped between them. We’ll be on our way soon, Wisery. Give me a few minutes to talk to Zyla.

Wisery rolled forward on his gnarled feet. If she doesn’t stop pouring wrath into my forest, I will push her into a dream again, and you can remove her while she sleeps.

What? She stumbled back. He could make her sleep. "You put me in the Void?"

To protect you from the pain, yes, Wisery said, his voice placating. It made it possible for me to get your attention. How else could you know to release me into the soil?

Wait. You pushed me into the Void, but there were no dragons and no sign of the Void failing. She recalled the silence and the coolness of the black plain. She shook her head. I thought you wanted to be planted there.

The Void was only a dream, but asleep, you noticed me and could think.

Not the Void? The sharpness of the experience denied his assertion.

Just a protective dream. If you planted me, I could break the magic and stop its attack on you.

She paced between a pair of trees and pulled understanding from what the Grand Lynkyn shared. While it tore my melder from me, you kept me inside a dream long enough to allow me to have some awareness when I awakened.

It was necessary. Afterward, it was still necessary. You were too ill, and my growth put you in danger.

Finished with Rorik’s re-saddling, Seguin went to Bay. We’ll be on our way, Wisery. Zyla, into the saddle you go.

Bay halted beside her.

No! I have more questions.

Seguin tugged Zyla forward and held the stirrup straight.

She tried to push him aside, but Seguin strained against her effort. Where was Canderbury precisely? How many casters traveled with him? Was he injured, weakened enough to be destroyed by her, no matter how enfeebled she was?

The Lynkyn hum rose around her, and Seguin gripped her shoulders. Look at me, Zyla.

She pulled back her rising frustration. She had other questions she could ask. Where is Moro? Canderbury was afraid of Moro.

Wisery tensed, but he said, The primer and her melder carry him home to Montomoro.

Seguin gripped her shoulders, but he faced Wisery.

Primer? she asked, peering past Seguin.

She took her Lynkyn form, Wisery said, turning up the dirt at his feet.

Seguin patted Bay’s chest, satisfied with the security of the saddle.

Rorik burbled, and Zyla tried to catch his communication with Seguin.

Rorik said Madras and Thaddeus came to help a Grand Lynkyn.

I don’t understand. She questioned Seguin with a look.

I sent Rorik on with Thaddeus when the casters returned to attack Est. They must have made it to the raiser forest where Madras was. I don’t know the details, but Madras heard Wisery’s call for aid.

What does that have to do with Moro? She may have been gone three days, but the world should not have changed that much. A Lynkyn form? Wisery can reach all the way to the raiser’s forest? She shook her head. That was farther than Est could sense a Lynkyn forest. Wisery was large, but could he reach that far north?

The staffs are parts of Moro, and there was more of his trunk stashed somewhere in Wisery. Seguin wiped his hands on his trousers as if removing an unhappy memory. I felt him and imagine the pieces combined when Wisery destroyed the school.

I don’t understand. It’s not like Moro is a seedling. Returning him to his forest was one of her tasks. Sequin had taken it over, and now Madras had seized the undertaking?

Rorik couldn’t explain what happened, but they took Moro.

They took a Grand Lynkyn? After her own experience with the staff, it was best she not be involved, but how was Madras achieving it?

The Lynkyn hummed, and Wisery said, She is a primer, and in her Lynkyn form, she can travel from forest to forest.

The explanation didn’t hold water. There isn’t enough forest. There was a lot of Wisery forest, but it didn’t reach Montomoro.

With a Grand Lynkyn, she doesn’t require the forests connect.

Even Seguin looked stunned. Lynkyn form? You said that before. He elbowed Rorik. Tell me what’s going on.

Rorik burbled and shook his head.

I think hiding among the trees is a poor excuse for not noting a Grand Lynkyn and Madras leaving. She didn’t take Bay.

Zyla turned to Bay, who shook her head, her blonde mane whipping from side to side.

She didn’t need a horse, Wisery said, as if stating the obvious. She was in her Lynkyn form.

Seguin grumbled. Still not clear. Madras is Madras, not Lynkyn.

Zyla touched her hand to a Lynkyn tree. Show me. The memory played, showing Madras and Thaddeus standing before a decrepit Grand Lynkyn hunched and huddling on the ground. Rucksacks sat at their feet. The three stretched out of shape and blurred. Like a wind strewn with leaves and twigs, the blurry twister slid through the trees, no limb disturbed or leaf blown aside.

She eyed Wisery. Is Madras a Grand Lynkyn?

She’s a primer. They move Grand Lynkyns and Lynkyn forests.

Seguin scrubbed the back of his head. Madras moved Moro? Why is Thaddeus with her?

Primers cannot do it alone. They require a melder. Wisery straightened, tightening his arms across his chest. You need to go.

Seguin nodded. Enough questions. Up you go, Zyla.

She chewed her lip. Wisery could keep her from heading south, and Seguin was adamant about riding north. She shoved her foot into the stirrup, letting Seguin keep Bay steady as if the horse would even think of being difficult. In the saddle, she glared at him. Okay, I’m ready.

That’s my girl.

He grinned up at her, and she grinned back. It was going to be difficult to stay annoyed with him.

I could just head south without you, she said.

You won’t.

You believe that?

Bay is heading north.

The horse danced on sure-footed hooves until she faced distant Montomoro.

Oh, I see how it is.

We all love you. That’s how it is. Seguin squeezed her knee, then mounted Rorik. Wisery, goodbye.

We will have a long memory of you, the youthful Grand Lynkyn said, his voice both pleasant and assertive.

Zyla stiffened. May the sun shine, the rain drench, and the soil sustain you. She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. This wasn’t a pleasant farewell.

And you as well. Wisery dropped like sand to the forest floor, the sound like rain on stone.

The hum prodded her forward.

Chapter two

Moro Returns

Thaddeus

Thaddeus knew about Nahlyn, but this was the first Nahlyn forest he’d experienced long enough to get comfortable. Stopping here was his idea, and Madras walked around the narrow clearing as if she wondered why he picked this spot. The lump of Lynkyn log, at least as round as his cell back in Wisery and twice as long, lay at the edge, leaving them just enough room to stretch out if they spent the night. They’d have to take different sides of the rock he sat on, a feature he appreciated.

Madras spun around. So, why here? Her hand rested on the smooth bark, and she smiled. The Nahlyn hadn’t stopped humming joyfully since their arrival. The leaves rustled in the light breeze. She pointed at the quiescent log. Shouldn’t we keep him away from Lynkyn forests?

They’re Nahlyn. Too few and too young to grab his attention. Moro slumbers. When they traveled, carried along by Madras in her Lynkyn form, the combination of Moro and Madras mixed with his need for space took constant control. He’d had nobody so close for an extended time before. He didn’t mind Madras, but Moro leaked. The Grand Lynkyn burrowed in, seeking his place where he didn’t belong. Thaddeus didn’t need another Grand Lynkyn taking residence. Bruhl lacked manners, and desperation drove Moro. Both of them took before asking. This small wood’s presence soothed him.

Thaddeus, did you hear me?

His hand fell to his side, the broom dangling from his belt swinging with each tap of his fingers. What?

I thought I saw a little girl, six or seven years old, peeking at us.

That’s Harlee. He knew where the tiny Grand Lynkyn lurked, spying on them. She had no wish to intrude and would tap on his senses for permission. He liked that about her.

You’ve already made friends? Since when do you introduce yourself to strangers?

I spoke to you. He didn’t want to smile, but he couldn’t help himself. Madras made him comfortable. She didn’t treat him like he was fragile, and she asked his opinion, even when he couldn’t possibly have one.

No, you called me a primer and then strode away. Not friendly at all. She walked around the tree, her hand dragging behind her along the slender trunk. When she came around the other side, she said, So, tell me about Harlee.

She’s a Grand Lynkyn. He watched Madras closely, following her slow steps to the center of the clearing.

Madras nodded as if the information made sense, and then she shook her head. She’s a little kid. How is there a child Grand Lynkyn among Nahlyns out in the middle of nowhere?

Zyla planted her.

You know, that really doesn’t explain it. She pretended to peer at the Grand Lynkyn’s hiding place, stopping before her steady stare landed on the child. We left Wisery, and after a few hours, he was a giant, young but a giant, and surrounded by Lynkyn, not Nahlyn. This Grand Lynkyn is a little girl peeping around a tree. If Zyla planted her, which could not have happened recently, shouldn’t she have developed into an ornery woman by now?

He huffed. She needs interaction and a melder melding to mature.

Is that why we’re here? She sat down next to him, and he shifted over, putting more space between them. Madras didn’t let on that she noticed, but he was certain she did. She always knew when to ignore his idiosyncrasies. He’d come here because he knew Harlee would ask for nothing from him, and he wouldn’t have to be the one to help her mature. His hands twitched, and he sat on them. No sweeping.

Does Harlee need something from us? She gazed toward the tree the Grand Lynkyn hid behind. We’re happy to help, she called out.

Give her space. She’s shy.

Hmm. She slanted her look his way. I know the type. Needs time to get comfortable with strangers. She sat back on the rock, leaning on her hands planted behind her. How long before she comes in for a chat?

He shrugged. She would when she was ready.

Any chance you’ll let me braid back your hair, just at the temples? You don’t need to hide from me. I know most of your secrets.

He snorted. She did not know his secrets.

Facing him, she crossed her legs, tugging on her calf-length split skirt to make room for her knees sticking out the sides. Her thigh-high boots held small feet. She leaned her elbows on her knees and said, You like to hide behind that hair. It’s not much of a protection, you know. Sure, it keeps you from making eye contact, but this is me, Madras, your uncertain primer. She wiggled her fingers before his face. Let me pull your hair back. We’re friends, right? If we aren’t, if we see each other’s eyes, then we’ll become friends. She ended her speech with a crooked smile.

He tried to smile back, but he knew she couldn’t see his face. The hair interfered. If he couldn’t hide behind the hair… He looked toward the little girl, where she peeked out at them for an instant. Maybe if he didn’t hide, she wouldn’t either. Okay.

Madras sat up. Really? I thought it would take days of negotiation. She held up her index finger, said, Wait right there, and ran to her rucksack. While digging through it, she hummed.

He leaned forward, listening for the tune, but there didn’t seem to be a pattern. Madras was unlike anyone he knew. He grimaced. He didn’t know enough people for a comparison. Outside of Zyla, whom he’d given little attention, Madras was the only woman he’d spent any time with. She was the only one he could talk to.

She bounced to her feet, one hand fisted around whatever she’d been searching for. The other held a brush.

He squinted. I don’t like brushes.

Well, you’ll like this one.

They yank on my hair.

Madras looked off into the trees. Who was the last person to brush your hair?

A flash of memory hit him, and he shoved it into the darkness. No one. I just don’t like them.

She raised a finger at him, her mouth quirking up on one side. That is a crazy notion, disliking something for no reason. I will start with my fingers, and if you change your mind, we’ll switch to the brush.

When she said crazy, it sounded like she was teasing him. She was the only one who teased him. As she walked around him, he kept his gaze on her until he had to move, which he didn’t.

Her footsteps carried her out of sight. Relax. I’m braiding your hair, not sneaking up behind you. Pulling the hair draping his face back, her fingers ran over his scalp until every strand registered a tingle. There are a few knots. Let me work them out first.

She had him tilt his head down until his chin touched his chest. Her fingers brushed through his hair over and over. He enjoyed the tingle it inspired. Sometimes she would stop and tug, gently pulling tangled strands apart. He closed his eyes, shoving memories one after the other into the dark as her fingers tickled them out of his past. He almost asked her to stop, but her fingertips would run up the back of his head, then slide through his hair, leaving him unexplainably relaxed. Tense and relaxed. It felt oddly pleasant.

There. Just a couple more knots to go.

She tugged a few more times, then ran her fingers through his hair from his temples back to his neck. Her face came up beside his, her lips close to his ear. Can I convince you to let me run the brush through twice?

He nodded. When the bristles touched his scalp, he flinched, and she stopped. Clutching the collapsed broom between his hands, he waited, his shoulders tight. He shoved another memory into the dark, but not before he saw the woman’s face. Maybe this was a horrible idea. He hadn’t seen that face since before Afley found him.

The dark places prodded, and he clutched the broom and emptied his mind. Madras didn’t know his secrets, and he didn’t want them brought into the light.

Did I hurt you?

No. There was nothing to see. Go ahead.

She brushed the length, first one side and then the other, and set the brush aside. Emptiness crowded him when she stopped, and he waited for her fingers to run through his hair again.

She spoke before touching him. I’m going to pull a section from each temple and braid it down the back.

He gave a curt nod. Words would only bring the shadows again, and the memories that wanted to crawl out with flaming fingers, ashy skin with cracks of red running like lava