Being dumped back into the dreamscape by someone else’s will was as offensive as it was shocking. For a short while I even forgot my anxiety over what I was about to do. The dreamscape was my world, dammit! I was supposed to be the one with all the power there! I went as I would, and I reshaped dreams as I pleased! Tam unceremoniously throwing me out by deciding to wake up was a rude awakening to say the least, the pun be damned. I should—-

  Focus! The spark, remember?

  Conscience’s voice brought me out of what might have grown into a minor tantrum, reminding me that I had a job to do. And with a slightly clearer head I could recognize that, if anything, Tam not being in my power even here was a good sign. It made it all the more likely that he’d told me his true feelings about my power over our sisters and about volunteering as a test subject, and hadn't just been very clever about telling me what I wanted to hear.

  Tam was awake, and Val was by his side. At least I assumed that it was Val; they’d been there when I got kicked out of the stripped-down dream I’d created, and they didn’t go anywhere. And so, I had no reason to delay.

  I’d never imagined being reluctant to explore my powers, but there I was, unhappily circling Tam and trying to determine if one angle was better than any other. Or, more likely, procrastinating by pretending that was what I was doing. It took another sharp reminder from Conscience before I accepted that one angle was as good as another, and I should just get on with it.

  It was shockingly simple, in the end. I’d already figured out how to move souls, and how to bind them to a body. So, the first thing I tried was to send out a tendril of my power, and wrap it around the spark. At first it wouldn’t penetrate Tam’s soul; it bounced or slid off. But I’d accidentally pulled a tendril through Tam when I was trying to keep his soul from floating away, so I knew it was possible. The trick, it turned out, was to be slow and deliberate. The soul was apparently made of corn starch; any sudden, forceful attempt to penetrate it failed, but as long as I didn’t rush, it was easy.

  Pulling the spark out was a slow, careful process. Once it was outside his soul it vanished, absorbed into my tendril, and Mak became as insubstantial to my sight as Val.

  Is that it? I asked into my own mind. Is it really that simple?

  Looks like, yeah, Conscience confirmed.

  I— I just… I floundered to explain my disappointment in a way that didn’t make me sound quite as awful as I felt. I thought it would be harder, I finished lamely.

  You thought you’d have more time before you had to try with Herald, Conscience countered. Not unkindly, but she wasn’t about to allow me the comfort of pretending, either.

  Yeah, I admitted. I hate this. I really hate this.

  I know. But you’ll do it. You’re not that far gone yet.

  She was right. Of course she was. I’d grown partially from her, and she’d been with me for as long as I’d existed. I’d hesitate, and try to find ways to delay, and I’d hate myself both for putting it off and for doing it, but I’d do it in the end. Because I loved Herald, and because it was the right thing to do.

  And then, if this freed Herald, I’d have to try the same with some of my other humans, no matter how it pained me. Instinct might go spare, but they deserved it no less than Herald did. Mak hadn’t had any real choice in betraying me, and Kira was a victim of the Silver Spurs more than anything. Barro probably didn’t deserve what I’d done to him either; enthralling him had been no more intentional than with Herald. It had just happened. Same with Jekrie. And while Ardek had known in general terms what had been going on while Herald, Mak and I were locked up, he hadn’t been in any position to help. I’d been far harsher to him than he deserved, and I owed him the opportunity to make a life free of me if he so chose. Besides, what kind of person would I be if I freed Kira, but not the man she loved?

  There. I’d thought the thoughts. I’d put what I ought to do into words, if only in my head. Now I just had to actually go through with it. To take the risk that all the people in the world who were most precious to me, whom I relied on to keep me from going absolutely mad, would hate me and flee the moment they had the chance.

  Gods, how could I do that? I knew what I’d told myself, and what Conscience believed of me, but how could I take that risk? How could anyone?

  They may not want to leave, Conscience reminded me, correctly guessing what I was thinking about. And she was right. They may hate me when I wasn’t in their heads anymore, but they also might not. Perhaps they’d focus on the good parts. I hadn’t been such a terrible mistress, all told. I’d tried to be kind and generous, to make them safe and happy and not to abuse them or override their free will unless I thought it absolutely necessary. Well, except at the start. Gods and Mercies, but I’d been cruel to Mak. But maybe they’d find it in themselves to forgive me. I had to hold on to that hope, faint as it was.

  Of course, even if they did abandon me I wouldn’t end up entirely alone. There were always the ones I had serious grievances against. Avjilan had tried to kill me on several occasions, endangering Kira and my sisters in the process. Onur had sent people to murder or abduct my family. Tammy had been an irredeemable sack of shit who murdered innocent villagers and abused Kira for the hell of it, and while she was a very different person now, there was no guarantee that the monster she’d been wouldn’t resurface if I let it. And Zabra…

  Zabra was the worst of them. She’d had innocent people kidnapped and sold into slavery, and when we stopped her she had my sisters tortured until Mak betrayed me to her. Tarkarran was the one who actually done the torturing, but Zabra was ultimately responsible. The fact that I’d let her live, even with the risks involved in killing her, still amazed me sometimes. She was living proof of just how much self-control I could have when it really came down to it.

  I might find it in me to free those who were pretty much innocent, but those four? I wasn’t letting them go. Absolutely not. I loved them all, but the fact that they were still alive was mercy enough on my part.

  Not that any of that mattered in the short term, meaning the next few weeks. If I was freeing anyone, Malyon really wasn’t the place for it. What if they couldn’t stand being around the others anymore? What if they freaked out, and fled into the ruins? Even if they didn’t, they’d be miserable, forced to stick around for the sake of their own survival. I couldn’t imagine how awful that would be; forced to choose between people you couldn’t stand being around, either because of who they were or because of what they reminded you of, or almost certain death.

  No, I needed them to be somewhere safe, preferably back at the inn, if I did it.

  When I did it. I really had to force myself to think in terms of when, not if.

  Really, I shouldn’t be doing it to Herald where she was, either. There was nowhere for her to go! She literally couldn’t leave without me; there was no way that she’d survive going down the side of the mountain or dropping into the Throne room. Hell, she might even get badly hurt trying to get down into the pit! What was I thinking?! If I was going to risk freeing her—

  There’s that ‘if’ again, Conscience warned me. Apparently I hadn’t been thinking quite quietly as I’d thought. Listen, mate, she continued. I don’t think you’d actually try to back out now, but I wouldn’t let you. We’re doing this. Yeah, it’s less than ideal to have her somewhere she literally can’t get out without your help. I really wish it didn't have to be that way, but as far as we both know, it does, and we can’t risk cocking this up. I wish she wasn’t so scared and miserable about the whole thing, because she really is a terribly sweet girl under the brutal shell she’s built to better serve you. And I wish that I could tell you what’ll happen. I wish I knew if she’ll go back to how she was, and if she’ll hate you or still love you as much as ever—which I wouldn’t discount, honestly. She knows you. She knows how hard you’ve tried. But I don’t know any of that, not for sure. All I know is that she deserves a chance to choose to be free. Of course, so do those poor bastards she’s enslaved for your sake, but there’s nothing we can do about that. I can only hope that once she’s had a taste of freedom she’ll try to pay it forward if she can. So go back to her. If she’s still asleep, talk to her. Tell her that it worked on Tam, and that there’s no reason to think that it caused him any harm. And then do it. And if she’s awake, then just do it right off. Believe it or not, I hate to see you hurting yourself over this when we both know that you’ll go through with it in the end.

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  What if I lose her? I asked, putting all of my fear and misery into those five words. What if she leaves?

  She’s not yours to lose, Conscience said, and her tone was as gentle and understanding as I’d ever heard it. Or she shouldn’t be. That’s the whole point. She has every right to leave. And if she hates you, well… you’ll just have to hope that she gives you another chance some day. For what it’s worth, I truly don’t think that she will. Now, go on. It’s past time.

  With possibly the greatest effort of sheer will I’d ever mustered, I returned to Herald. She was still as bright as I’d left her; still asleep. Instinct was nowhere to be seen, which I took to mean that she was with Herald. That was a relief. Instinct wasn’t the most comforting person to have around, but I hated how I’d left Herald, and I was glad that she wasn’t alone.

  When I entered her dream, Herald was nowhere to be seen, but her whereabouts were easy enough to guess. Instinct lay curled in a big, scaly ball, with her wings covering her head. Low voices emanated from the cocoon she’d made, which stopped shortly after I arrived.

  One wing slowly rose, and a huge, golden eye peered out at me. Then Herald pushed Instinct’s snout out of the way so we could look at each other. Her brave smile fought to reach her eyes, and though it didn’t quite make it, it made one hell of an attempt.

  “So,” she asked, her voice thin and unsteady. “Did it work?”

  “I think it did, yeah,” I said, approaching them slowly. The words felt terribly sad, like an admission that this was it; that this might be the last time she looked at me with anything resembling love. I wished that her smile was genuine. It would have been nice to see her happy in our last moments together. But no, this was more appropriate. If I was about to turn her life upside down, it was only right that she be a little apprehensive.

  “Instinct,” she said, looking up at the enormously exaggerated form cradling her, “I would like some time alone with Draka before… you know. Please.”

  “Very well,” Instinct said, carefully and entirely unnecessarily uncurling from around Herald. She took a few steps in my direction, then turned back and said, “Remember what we talked about.”

  “I will,” Herald said. And just like that, Instinct vanished.

  “What did you talk about?” I asked.

  Still looking where Instinct had just been, Herald smiled sadly. “She will never admit it, but she is terrified. She did not quite beg me—we both know that she never would—but she kept talking about how she did not want me to leave, and that she hopes I will remember all the benefits I have enjoyed so far.” With a soft chuckle she added, “It was a little like she was trying to sell me something, to be honest.”

  “I agree with her,” I said, taking Instinct’s place and curling around my sister, silently praying that this wouldn’t be the last time I did so. It seemed terribly sad for our last cuddle to be in a dream. “Though I’d add that I hope that you’ll remember that I loved you long before everything got so out of hand, and that I’d never do anything to hurt you. Not intentionally, anyway.”

  “I know,” she said, relaxing into me. “Must you really do this? I said that Instinct is terrified, but Gods and Mercies, Draka, I’m so scared that I’ve come out the other end. Now I’m just hopeless. Can’t you see that I don’t care about this imaginary freedom of yours? I’m happy, you big, dumb lizard! Does that mean nothing to you? What point is freedom if I can’t be happy?”

  There was no heat to her words. No bite. I almost wished that there had been; that there had been any sign of anger or frustration. This was just pleading with a rougher tone, and it only convinced me further that no matter how much I hated it, and how much Herald thought she didn’t want this, I had to do this. Even if Instinct had never come adrift from me, if I’d ever found what I now had for any other reason, I would have been obligated to at least try to free Herald. Conscience was right: no matter how painful it was, I was going to do it. For all my procrastinating I was always going to do it, from the moment the possibility occurred to me. From the first day I met her, Herald had simply been too good to me for me to do anything else.

  “Your happiness means everything to me,” I breathed. ”And I swear that if I could trust that it wasn’t my influence forcing you to say these things, I’d leave things as they are and try to find a different way to bring Instinct home. But I can’t. Whatever you might feel without my power poisoning you, as it is, you can’t want to be free. And that’s why I have to try.”

  “So that is it? You will just discard me?” she asked, staring off into the infinite darkness. There was a hardness to her face now that hadn’t been there before; not quite anger, but as close to it as she could get when it was directed at me.

  “You know I’d never,” I tried to reassure her. “Not if I had a choice.”

  “I thought I was as precious to you as any of your treasures,” she continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “Yet you would never give away so much as a tarnished silver eagle, but you will send me away despite me begging you not to. I do not think I have ever felt so worthless.”

  I really had to applaud her cunning there. Making it seem as though me freeing her meant that I didn’t treasure her, that… Sorrows take me, that was more than I could bear. She must have truly, at the core of her, believed that freeing her would hurt me more than accusing me of not loving her. And she was probably right, but I was still going to do it, and as my resolve hardened my heart I could feel Conscience’s sympathy and encouragement.

  “Herald, I love you more than anything else in this world,” I told her. I waited until she looked me in the eyes and her face softened before I continued. “That’s why nothing you say will stop me. I hope to all the heavens that if it works you’ll choose to stay with me—with us—but in the first place, if at all possible I have to give you that choice. And no matter how this ends, I hope you’ll understand that nothing would make me happier than you choosing me, freely, despite everything that I’ve done these past few months.”

  “I already chose you!” she cried, her eyes pleading with me to just let this all go. “From the moment you offered to help us down in that mine, I have chosen you every day! First out of curiosity, then out of friendship, and for many months now, out of love! Why isn’t that enough?”

  “Maybe you did at the very beginning,” I conceded. “But so many things have happened since then. Herald, I turned your sister, the woman who raised you for most of your life, who sacrificed so much for you, into my adoring servant. I did that because letting her live seemed crueler than killing her, and I admitted as much to your face. And you told me—”

  My voice failed me, and even in this dream, where I should have been in absolute control, I had to swallow and take a moment to center myself before continuing. “You told me that you knew that you should be furious with me. That you should hate me for what I’d done to Mak, and what I made her do. But you couldn’t. I don’t know when we crossed that line, but you haven’t had an independent opinion about me for most of the time we’ve known each other. We’ve been together, and we’ve had some wonderful times, but you haven’t even been able to want a life away from me. I’ve stolen that from you, Herald! Not intentionally, but I have!”

  “But you have given me so much in return,” she replied desperately. “Joy, wealth, power… Do you understand how amazing my Major Advancement is? I can go invisible, Draka! I can bend others to my will! Two powers out of legend, and I got them both at once, at only seventeen years old. Is that not worth some vague idea of ‘freedom’ that I do not miss anyway?”

  “If you’d chosen to give up your freedom… maybe,” I said. I wasn’t so sure. Conscience most certainly didn’t think so. “But you never had the choice. I owe you the chance to change your mind. All right?”

  And there, finally, she gave up on trying to convince me. “All right,” she replied forlornly.

  We lay there for what might have been five minutes or an hour. Time wasn’t important; enjoying these last few moments was. “I don’t want to hate you,” she whispered after a while.

  “I don’t want you to either. Do you think you will?”

  “No. But what if I do?” Then, with the faintest trace of hope, she added, “Perhaps it will not even work. Then we can both get what we want.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, humoring her. “Sure.”

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