Chapter Fifteen #2
Alaric visibly relaxed, his shoulders softening, a brighter smile reaching his eyes. “I pretty much saw the same. The day your Nana died, another day where you fainted in a store, and then the day I gave you that.”
“Huh.” I held my ring up to the light, looking at the intricate sigil design that used to glow faintly red, but now lay dormant. “I wonder if we would be able to do that again. Like sharing more memories or something? Maybe even read each other’s minds.”
Alaric raised his eyes in interest. “There is not too much left in the archives about Twinflames, but legend has it they can sense each other on an intuitive level.”
“I guess we’ll find out.” I stretched my arms above my head, willing the sore muscles to cooperate with more training. “I guess we should get back to it.”
He nodded, standing and then offering his hand to lift me to my feet.
I stood, my skin prickling against the warmth of his hand that lingered in mine just a little longer than necessary.
He walked me through the basic combat moves again, repeating them until they felt like second nature.
I had actually managed to escape one of his holds, using my legs to knock his knees out from under him, and he hit the ground.
I grinned, excitement at finally doing something right flooding through me.
Alaric groaned as his back hit the mat, a shadow of a smile lingering on his face.
“She can finally execute a basic low kick, but can she channel?” He teased as he stood, brushing a stray onyx strand out of his eyes.
“Channel?” I repeated, my heart rate finally slowing as I took in his stature, the echo of my recent victory fading away.
“You’ve got the basics of hand to hand down, and we’ve touched on how to channel your magic, but your channeling has been random and chaotic. We’ve got to teach you how to use runes in order to specify how your magic manifests itself.”
He took a step closer to me, the air suddenly thick with warm tension, the power between us shimmering in response to his words.
Alaric took my hand in his; the air around us pulsed as he used his free fingers to motion out a shape in the air, fire left in its wake as he spelled something out, just as he did in the library all those days ago.
“Custodia,” he remarked, his breath fanning against my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Rune of Warding. A protection—enough to deflect minor blows or dull the impact of a physical or magical attack. Every novice begins here.”
I leaned closer, watching the rune flicker as if alive. “You . . . just write a shape in the air and hope it works?”
“Not hope. Focus,” he corrected softly. “Your blood and magic carry your will. The rune only obeys if both are strong.” He dipped his head to me, now intertwining his fingers with mine. “Your turn.”
I hesitated, the weight of what was being asked of me feeling heavy.
My blood pulsed through me, intermingling with the magic I had only recently tapped into.
They both felt too bright, too loud, as I closed my eyes and focused.
I tried to copy his shape, the glare of the light of my power flashing intermittently as I honed in on the shape.
I whispered the word he had said, and for a breath, nothing happened—until the rune flared weakly, sputtering out in a tiny bright flash of light before dissolving completely.
Alaric’s lips twitched upward. “Not bad for your first time. Try again. The rune remembers.”
“Well, isn’t this cozy?”
Both of us turned. Celeste stood framed in the archway, her raven hair catching the torchlight like a halo, and her expression sharp enough to cut. Her eyes flicked from the bright fire of Alaric’s rune to where our hands were still intertwined.
“Only starting to teach her runes now, Alaric?” She asked, voice dripping with condescension. “After her show of power the other day, I would assume she’d already mastered the novice runes. How disappointing.”
The spark of warmth in my chest faltered under her gaze.
Alaric straightened, his jaw tightening. “She’ll get there. In time.”
Celeste’s smirk widened as her eyes locked on mine. “We’ll see about that.”
Celeste turned on her heel, her steps echoing as she exited the chamber. Alaric kept my hand in his, his dark eyes narrowing after Celeste. His green eyes swam with emotion—bitterness, resentment, and an echo of longing.
“Why does she hate me so much?” I mumbled, attempting to pull my hand out of his, but he only held tighter. He turned to face me, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“Not you,” he corrected. “Me.”
“Why?”
He shrugged, turning his body to face me fully, his free hand coming up to cup my face. The Twinflame bond hummed between us, our individual powers searching for ways to connect, hence the constant touching. Not that I minded, exactly.
“Celeste and I . . .” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Have a complicated history.”
“You dated, right? Sara-Kate told me.”
“Something like that,” he admitted. “It was just a summer fling, but clearly meant something more to her. That’s all.”
I felt my cheeks and the bond between us heat in response.
I tried to push the feelings of insecurity and jealousy deep down inside me, to a place I could deal with later without Alaric around.
It was becoming obvious that our bond would only continue to grow and gain more of each of us as time passed.
We could already feel each other’s intense emotions, and the last thing I needed was Alaric thinking I was jealous.
It wasn’t me. It was the bond. Obviously.
He pushed my chin up with his fingers, making me look him in the eyes.
“But whatever that was between me and her doesn’t hold a candle to this,” he swore, his green eyes now swimming with a different kind of longing—a kind that promised mountains would crumble and seas would roar. “I’m yours, Mari. Whether you want me or not.”
I nodded, my head feeling dizzy, the magic between us flaring from my fingertips down to my toes.
“Any other questions?” he asked, his head tilting as if he would bridge the little bit of a gap that still sat between us, our breathing labored.
I shook my head, squeezing his hand gently as I took a step back, taking a breath of fresh air to clear my head. I turned to my bag, glancing at the time on my phone, noting I needed to get home soon in order to comply with Tiffany’s new rules.
“I do have a quick question before we go,” I asked, the anxiety of worrying about Sara-Kate resurfacing as I turned around, shouldering my satchel. “Is there any way to predict if someone is going to awaken as a Bloodwright?”
Alaric turned slowly to face me, the blood seeming to drain from his face. “What makes you ask that?”
I was taken aback by his reaction, so different from the warmth and familiarity we had just shared a moment ago.
“I’m just worried about Sara-Kate. She’s been acting kind of off lately, having strange dreams. Reminds me of what I was going through not too long ago.”
He physically relaxed, patting my shoulder reassuringly. “I’m sure she’s fine. There isn’t a clear formula that is followed when someone emerges. Plus, has anyone she loved and is blood-related to died recently?”
I sighed. “No, not that I know of.”
“Then you’re just worrying yourself for nothing,” he continued, pulling away to gather his water bottle and towel. “I’m sure Sara-Kate is fine. Normal people can have bad dreams and become stressed occasionally.”
I nodded, trying to push Sara-Kate from my mind as Alaric packed up his things and led me out of the chamber. The tight tether of our Twinflame bond began to feel constricting, almost too tight. The power within my veins seemed to hum and heat, like it was warning me.
By the time Alaric walked me back home, my muscles ached and my thoughts felt just as bruised. I tried to focus on the moves he drilled into me—how to block, how to shift my weight, but all I could hear was the echo of his voice saying you’re just worrying yourself for nothing.
I wasn’t convinced, so I decided to do something about it.
That night, when Uncle Dan and Aunt Tiffany had finally gone to bed, I slipped into Dan’s hidden study, pulling the specific book that activated the hidden door.
As always, the air inside the hidden Bloodwright room always felt different—charged, as if the protection wards humming through the walls were aware of me, welcoming me in.
I crossed to the old oak desk, pulling open the bottom drawer where Uncle Dan had kept it tucked away, wrapped in velvet cloth.
My father’s ring. The ring I was supposed to have been given by Uncle Dan when he would have become my mentor. When he should have become my mentor.
I wanted to try something; to at least pretend I had some control over everything spiraling around me.
Maybe I could etch a small ward of protection into it, just enough to keep Sara-Kate safe while I figured out what was happening to her.
It wasn’t much, but it would maybe give her some relief and give me a sense of peace.
But when I pulled the drawer open, my breath caught.
Empty.
The velvet sat there like an open mouth, waiting, but the ring was gone. I rifled through the desk, panic rising in my chest. No ring. No note. Nothing. Then a sickening feeling, a change in the temperature, made my skin crawl.
Someone had been here.
And worse—they’d taken the one thing I thought might give me the power to keep Sara-Kate safe. The only hope I had of protecting her.