you will sing it fifty times.”
“Fifty?” she said, incredulous, but Grandfather’s face was stone. She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the yawning void beneath the wire. She’d almost killed people she loved tonight. Biting her lip, she nodded. Whatever it took, she’d learn to control her storm-blessing.
CHAPTER TEN
IN TRUE-LIFE, BRANISLAV slumped against the rough stone wall of a cell beneath the Storm Guard fortress, iron collar dark against the pale skin of his throat. The collar’s chain dangled slack, a few links pooling on the floor before snaking up to the anchor ring in the wall.
Four days had passed since Branislav had imbued. In the field afterwards, Hana had imbued a Category One healing bandage, repairing the gunshot wound in Branislav’s thigh—for all it helped. None of the infantry soldiers had survived, and Branislav...
He’d lost true-life with his imbuement and, despite everyone’s best efforts since, he was still lost to storm-madness. To Gerrit’s eyes, Branislav’s sousedni-shape was as sharp as his true-form, and still warped. His fissured, glowing skin and charred uniform were almost as disturbing as seeing him continually beaten by enemies that existed only in his mind.
Since returning to the Storm Guard fortress, Gerrit and the other cadets had worked in alternating shifts, strazh mages trying to pull Branislav back to himself, Gerrit and Hana speaking to him in sousednia, trying to convince Branislav that he was safe.
It had helped—a little. Branislav’s sousedni-shape had shrunk down to his normal size, but he’d never acknowledged them, never stopped fighting his endless battle except for when a strazh held his attention with a combat nuzhda.
Fighting the fear that his friend was never coming back, Gerrit had decided to try something different today. He’d lifted a circus poster from their barracks, the color lithograph showing scantily clad acrobats balancing on a high wire while elephants trumpeted from the ground. The whole academy buzzed with excitement for the coming circus and its attendant leisure day. Gerrit hoped to lure Branislav back to true-life with it, and the others had agreed to play along.
“I bet there’ll be giraffes and camels,” Hana said, her good cheer almost believable.
“And monkeys,” Darina said at Gerrit’s side, tacking one corner of the poster into a chink of mortar. Fading bruises greened the ochre undertones to her light skin, but at least the swelling had mostly subsided. Bozhk doctors had healed her internal injuries, but they never wasted old imbuements on superficial damage. “Definitely monkeys.”
Filip snorted. “Right, because we care about monkeys.” He nudged Branislav with his elbow. “We’ll be checking out the performers, right, Branyek?” Filip winked at Jolana. “You think you or Jolana will find the cutest girl?”
Jolana didn’t play along. She clutched Branislav’s hand, her shoulder pressed against his, bruises still livid against her light brown skin. She’d spent her every waking minute with Branislav, but he’d never even acknowledged her.
“Hey.” Darina bumped Gerrit’s shoulder with her own.
He turned back to the poster, crouching to hold the bottom corners.
“It’s a good idea.” She nodded to the poster. A split lip made her mouth lopsided, and blood still stained the white of one of her eyes.
“He probably won’t even see it.”
“Still,” she said. “It’s better.”
Poster hung, Gerrit crouched at Filip’s side, letting sousednia’s alpine freshness banish the cell’s stink. ?Filip’s right, you know,? he told Branislav. Normally, the wind’s mournful howl relaxed him, but Branislav fell to the snow, grappling with invisible attackers, and Gerrit’s throat tightened.
Struggling to ignore the fight, Gerrit gestured over his shoulder, trying to draw Branislav’s attention to the cell wall. ?You should see the girls on the posters.? His sousednia echoed the cell’s true-life confines, boulders rising out of his snowy clearing to form unnaturally straight walls. But Gerrit hated feeling trapped, so he eliminated the cell’s ceiling and reduced the walls to knee-high. ?If the girls dress like that in real life, it should be quite the show.? He winked, feeling awkward cajoling Branislav the way Filip would.
Branislav twisted, attention snapping past Gerrit.
?What—?? Sweeping aside the boulders, Gerrit cleared his view. Captain Vrana strode towards them, her sousedni-shape mostly transparent. Gerrit concentrated, trying to determine if she was alone. Faint, a mundane’s smoke-form stirred the air at her side.
?It’s all right.? Gerrit laid a hand on Branislav’s arm.
Branislav surged to his feet, illusory foes momentarily forgotten.
Gerrit clawed back to true-life, hating how hard the transition had become. In the cell, Branislav still slumped against the wall. “We have company,” Gerrit said just as the iron-banded door slammed open and Tesarik