Chapter 42 #2
He blinked once, his eyes flicking to my mouth. “Should I prove it to you?”
Heat darted low in my stomach.
“I thought we were training.” There was no mistaking the sarcasm in my voice. “Kisses don’t play a role in that.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Training, Trew. Training.” I scowled and adjusted my feet.
He stepped back, the absence of his heat making the room feel cold.
“All right, then,” he said. “Try again.”
Something shifted high in the rafters. I caught it out of the corner of my eye. Too small for a hawk, too erratic for a bat.
My breathing stilled.
Trew’s head tilted, his gaze sharp. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly, snapping my attention back to the weighted ball between us. Definitely nothing worth mentioning to the man who already thought I was standing here, salivating about kissing him again.
I bent my focus toward the ball, willing it to slide even an inch.
A soft chirp broke the silence.
My arms went tight. Then a tiny weight landed on my left shoulder, so light it barely shifted the fabric of my tunic.
Slowly, I turned my head and found myself staring into the beady eyes of the little ball of fluff on legs.
The minxpip looked exactly the same as the day she’d flown across the arena and claimed me in front of the entire court.
Tiny, trembly, her feathers puffed as if she was trying to look intimidating.
Which was laughable, since she was smaller than my fist. Yet somehow, she’d already carved a space in my guarded heart.
Maybe small things did matter, after all.
“Hey there,” I whispered.
She chirped again, higher this time, and I swear there was an edge to it. A don’t you dare reject me again kind of edge.
From his perch, Gavelle gave a slow blink, his gaze locked on the minxpip. His feathers settled in a way that almost looked like acknowledgment. Which I found unnerving.
I let out a breath that was half laugh, half disbelieving groan. “Of course. You get a predator that could kill me in two beats of its wings. I get a hedge-dweller with anxiety issues.”
The minxpip nipped my ear.
I recoiled away from her.
Trew’s mouth curved. “Pherin heard you.”
“How do you know her name?”
“Gavelle told me.”
“Well, she didn’t tell me.”
“Because you keep holding yourself back.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Plan to do it again?”
“Maybe not.”
“I suggest you start with an apology.”
Huffing, I turned to face her, finding her beak within striking range of my nose. “I’m sorry.”
“Will it to her.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “They don’t speak or understand most of what we say.”
“Most.”
“That’s right.”
“How much do they understand?”
He flicked his fingers toward Pherin. “Let her in, and you might find out.”
The last time she’d landed on me, I’d kept every wall in my mind locked tight. I couldn’t risk the Beast Council knowing who I was. I couldn’t risk anyone knowing who I was.
But Trew had known all along. He was going to help me. Maybe she could help me too.
Even more, I felt like something had been missing since I’d made it through the Rite of Bonds, something I suspected only this little minxpip could give me.
I wanted to know her. I wanted her to know me.
I swallowed, closed my eyes, and slowly, carefully, eased my walls open.
It felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, leaning forward into the wind. A rush of sensation slammed into me, bright, warm, dizzying.
Affection, fierce and unquestioning, swamped me so completely it stole my breath and brought tears to my eyes.
The scent of hedgerows after rain, wet leaves clinging to my skin.
The rapid chirp of warning that meant don’t you dare, undercut with an odd, stern patience, as if she’d been waiting for me to get myself together but was losing patience.
My throat tightened. You chose me.
She chirped, a sound that pulsed in my mind as words now.
Pherin.
The name rolled through me, not just a label but a piece of her, pressed into my magic like a seal.
The part of me that had been holding on to suspicion and guardedness so tight it had nearly strangled me cracked open.
Pherin pressed her tiny head against my jaw, her feathers tickling my skin. And I, who had sworn never to reveal all of myself here, let her all the way in.
Trew stared at me, though not in his usual smug, I told you so way. Not even with the kind of slow, knowing smile he wore when I rose to his bait.
This was something quieter and much more lethal than any other.
“About time,” he said in a low, throaty voice.
Pherin fluffed her feathers like she agreed. Gavelle let out a short, crackling note that I could’ve sworn was approval.
Trew stepped closer, his gaze lingering on the tiny creature on my shoulder. “Careful, Minx,” he said, the nickname curling warm in my chest. “That little thing might be everything you need.”
“She’s not a thing,” I said, which only made his smile deepen.
“Anyone who underestimates you, woman, is a fool.”
I should’ve dragged up a biting retort. Instead, I stood there with my pulse thundering and my throat tight, Pherin’s warm weight a promise on my shoulder. It wasn’t just the pride in his voice, it was the way it sounded like he meant me, not just my magic.
I glanced away, pretending to adjust Pherin’s perch. “Don’t look so smug.”
“I’m not smug.”
“You’re smug.”
He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Fine. I’m smug. But I’m also right.”
I groaned. “Unbearable too.”
“And yet.” He took another step forward until the space between us evaporated. “You’re still here.”
I felt his nearness in every nerve, the warmth of him, the faint hum of his magic in the air between us.
Pherin’s mind brushed mine again, bright with fierce affection, plus a subtle little push of something that might’ve been approval.
I blinked. “Are you… Did you…”
Trew’s eyes lit with amusement. “What?”
“Nothing.” But I was pretty sure my minxpip had just given her opinion on my choice of company. And…I didn’t mind that one bit.
The change was instant.
One moment, my magic was the usual sluggish ember, warm enough to exist but not enough to matter. The next, it roared up my spine like a flame on oil, hot and startling, racing to my fingertips before I had a chance to aim it.
The weighted ball on the mat didn’t only wobble this time. It shot sideways and hit the wall with a sharp thump, nearly toppling the rack of practice staves above it.
I stumbled with the force of it, but Trew’s hand shot out, gripping my elbow. His magic brushed mine in the contact, a steadying heat, like a palm pressed to the small of my back.
“Easy,” he whispered. I felt it more than heard it.
I exhaled, my pulse pounding. What the hell was that?
Pherin’s mental voice drifted through me in a warm hum of satisfaction, holding a thread of something that felt suspiciously like finally.
Trew stepped back, but he didn’t take his eyes off me. “Again.”
This time, I managed to pull the magic up without it exploding out of me. The ball lifted, shaky, uneven, but it rose into the air. I set my jaw and tried to steer it toward the far wall and promptly dropped it with a heavy thunk.
Gavelle released another crackling sound.
“Don’t,” I muttered up at him.
Trew was grinning again. “Progress, if you can call it that.”
I narrowed my eyes and tried again. And again. By the fourth attempt, the ball skimmed across the mat and nudged the wall before plopping down.
That earned me a small nod. From him, it was basically applause.
“Not bad, Minx,” he said, retrieving the ball and taking a second from the cabinet. “Let’s see what happens when you have to divide your focus.” The balls hit the mat with muffled thuds. “Move them both.”
I inhaled, pulled at my magic, and the two balls jerked in opposite directions like they were trying to escape me. I wrangled them halfway to the wall before one smacked into the other and both rolled away.
Trew chuckled. “Coordination. We’ll work on it.”
Pherin gave a little chirp in my ear that somehow translated to keep going.
It wasn’t just my magic that was faster now. When Trew switched us to a sparring drill, my reflexes felt sharper, my dodges cleaner. Twice, I caught the flicker of his movement out of the corner of my eye and was already shifting before his strike landed.
“Amazing.” He circled me, a wooden practice staff in his hands. “You’re definitely faster. It could be Pherin’s influence.”
She peeped.
“Or maybe I’m better than you thought,” I said.
He smirked. “Maybe.”
The next hour blurred into a rhythm. Magic drills. Combat drills. More magic. My control might still be rough, but every now and then, I surprised myself. Surprised him.
That was when his grin changed, turning less smug. Whatever it was, it made heat spiral low in my belly.
“Catch,” he said suddenly, and tossed a small leather pouch at my chest.
I caught it magically—barely—though it smacked into my collarbone before I got it to hover in front of me.
If catching pouches was a metaphor for catching feelings, I was already fumbling spectacularly.
He lifted a brow. “Better.”
Another toss. Another catch. Then three in quick succession, one of which bounced off my shoulder before I could snatch it from the air.
“Try harder,” he teased, and Pherin’s chirp echoed the same sentiment in my mind, but with patient indulgence, like a mother urging a toddler to keep at it.
I focused. The next throw came fast and low, and I snagged it midair without blinking.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Trew said.
I was still riding that small victory when something whistled through the air toward my back. Instinct and magic kicked in before thought could catch up. I spun, lifting my hand, and snatched a blunt training knife from the air before it hit my shoulder.
My pulse roared.
Trew’s grin went slow and wolfish. “You. Are. Spectacular.”
Gavelle ruffled his feathers, like he was claiming credit. Pherin fluffed indignantly against my neck, and I had the absurd thought they might be arguing.
We moved on to more complicated drills. Trew guided my stance, my focus, and sometimes my magic itself. When his hand closed over mine mid-cast, our powers brushed, warm, sparking, almost physical. My breath snagged in my throat.
“Feel that?” he asked, his voice dipping low.
“What does it mean?”
“I’m not going to tell you—yet.”
I lifted one brow. “Tell me now.”
“Make me.”
I huffed, not quite ready to attack him.
We got back to work.
Once, I lost control of a floating ball entirely, and it zipped past his head like a spear. He caught it without looking, turned it over in his hand, and stepped in close enough that the heat of him bled through my tunic.
His eyes locked on mine. “Careful where you aim, Minx. You might hit something worth keeping.”
The words slid over me in a shiver I couldn’t suppress.
By the time we stopped a few hours later, sweat was sliding down my spine, and my hair had plastered itself to my skin. My muscles ached in the best way, my chest still rising and falling from the last drill.
Pherin stayed firmly on my shoulder, her cute feathers puffed in what I was pretty sure was pride.
Trew crossed to me slowly with a mix of satisfaction, amusement, and something else in his eyes I wasn’t ready yet to name.
He brushed a damp strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering.
“You’re dangerous now, Minx,” he said softly.
I tilted my head, meeting his gaze full-on. “Now?”
The corner of his mouth curved, but he didn’t answer, which said plenty.
We left the training area and walked toward my chambers, the sound of our boots echoing off the stone wall. Gavelle glided low over our heads before landing on a stone jutting from the wall higher up, watching our approach.
Pherin chirped, tiny and absurd, yet somehow looking ready to take on the entire world.
Trew glanced at her, then me, and his smirk softened into something that made my chest feel…complicated.
For once, I didn’t push the feeling away.
Maybe I was ready to burn.