Chapter 13 #2
“Regardless of where you’re fighting, it’s important to learn to wield both magic and metal.
They go hand in hand.” She starts circling, spinning the dagger again.
“Magic isn’t something conjured from the plants or the rain or the clouds.
Does that nurture us? Yes. But the root of all magic is in your blood—beating in your heart and running through your veins.
If you want to access your magic, you need to connect with yourself.
We could sit and stare at a blade of grass until something miraculously appears, or we can do it my way and force it to wake up. ”
“Through fighting?”
“When you were in the prison, what gave you the ability to wake him?” She points the tip of her dagger at Wilder.
“You mean besides my charming personality?” Wilder’s voice at my side makes me jump.
I didn’t hear him approach.
“I will stab you in the heart without even blinking.” Greer’s jaw tightens, and I don’t doubt she means it when her hard gaze sets on him.
He doesn’t move, and neither does she.
“I don’t know how I did it,” I say, trying to cut through the tension.
It’s enough to pull Greer’s attention back to me. “What was happening right before you used your magic? What led up to it?”
“The rebels attacked.” My mouth dries; I’ve tried not to think about it.
“My father tried to fight them off, but he couldn’t.
He died for me—” My voice catches, and I do my best to steady it.
“I almost died myself, so I ran to the one place I thought they wouldn’t follow, the prison.
But they did. They wouldn’t stop, even when I reached the cells.
Even when Wilder fought them off—” I glance at Wilder, surprised to see him watching me with a solemn expression.
“He took a sword to the heart for me, and all I could think was that I couldn’t handle any more death in my name. Any more death at all.”
Greer’s gaze darts between us.
“I had to do something. That’s all I knew. I had to do anything because I couldn’t let him die for me. That’s when my magic appeared.” By the time I finish my story, my voice is nearly a whisper.
Wilder steps back, and that seems to pull Greer out of her trance.
“You drew on your emotion.” She starts pacing again. “You connected with the heart of what you truly wanted. That’s why your magic found you.”
“I guess so.” It didn’t feel like that, but Greer sounds certain.
“The reason some Fae struggle connecting with their magic is that they try to force it to be more than it is. They barrel down and harness it with brute force. The most powerful Fae are much more subtle with their approach. They allow their magic to flow through them without thinking. Without restraint or pressure. Which is where fighting comes in. When you’re fighting, you stop thinking about what you want to do and simply focus on what you need to do.
Your magic will be there when you are ready if you allow it. ”
“And what if I’m not ready in time?”
“Then you’ll die.” Her answer is void of emotion, but I appreciate it.
I’ve been fed so many lies. A little honesty is refreshing.
“Here.” Greer digs a toe in the dirt and draws a line. “Try to cross this line. But first—” She unsheathes a second dagger and hands it to me.
When I take it, she grabs a second of her own. We’re face-to-face with this thin, invisible line between us. I don’t take my eyes off her as I assess her positioning. She keeps a light grip on her daggers, but it’s clear she won’t drop them. They’re an extension of her.
She’s not nearly as tall as Callum, but size is nothing compared to skill in situations like this.
Remembering hesitation will do nothing but get me killed, I move quickly and try to take her down before she has the chance to counter.
But Greer is quicker. With the first sweep of the blade, she dips low, knocking the back of my knees with her heel and taking me to the ground in one swift move.
My lungs sting as I stare up at the clear sky from my back.
Wilder chuckles from the side of the training ring.
“Are you here to judge, or do you actually serve a purpose?” I glare at him.
“Just waiting for my turn.” He crosses his arms over his chest, watching me with wicked amusement.
Greer reaches down, offering me a hand and helping me up.
We go again, and it takes her a second longer to take me down this time, but my attempt is still pathetic. I can’t move nearly as fast as she can. Each move is met with one she must have planned three steps ago.
By the fifth time my back hits the dirt, my body is already aching, and my lungs are on fire.
“You’re in your head,” Greer points out when I decline her help getting up this time.
“I can barely defend myself, much less attack.” I wipe the dirt off my backside.
“If you keep telling yourself that, you’ll make it true.”
“Am I supposed to be manifesting a good mood now?” I snap. “I can’t even manifest my magic.”
“She has a point,” Wilder comments from the sidelines, helpful as ever.
“Why are you here?” I storm over to him. “Can you just leave me alone already? It’s not like you need to train and get stronger. I don’t need you standing around judging my weaknesses.”
“If you didn’t want me around, then maybe you should have let me stay dead.”
“If I’d known what a gods forsaken pain in the ass you’d be, I would have.” I slice the blade upward, but he easily dodges my attack. “And as I’ve said, resurrecting you was an accident.”
“Now that part, I believe. Not even a flicker of magic after all this pouting. It’s pathetic.” He smirks as he dodges me again.
“I’m human.” I grit my teeth.
“If you’re going to continue using that as an excuse, you might as well give up now.” He swings the sword, nicking my arm when I don’t move fast enough.
Thankfully, it only slices leather.
“You almost cut me.”
His golden eyes gleam. “Then move faster next time.”
“You insufferable”—I swipe my dagger through the air—“heartless”—I strike with each step—“gods forsaken”—I shove the blade upward and miss him entirely—“Fae.”
I twist, aiming straight for his throat, but in a blink, he grabs my hand and spins me around so I’m pinned to a tree, and his blade is at my neck. My chest thunders.
“Are you done with the compliments?” I feel him smiling with his words, but his expression remains passive.
I shove him off me, storming across the courtyard.
“Giving up so soon?” Wilder taunts.
Spinning around, I throw the dagger straight at his head, just like Callum taught me when we trained in Alyssium. But just before it reaches Wilder between the eyes, his magic catches it midair. Golden sparks web from his aura, gripping the handle. It encircles it, spinning the dagger around.
Wilder holds out his palm, face up, until the hilt of the dagger meets it. “Close, human, but not close enough.”
“Maybe I’m taking it easy on you.” I shove my chin up when he starts to walk toward me.
“If you could figure out how to use your magic, I’d have no doubt that would be the case. But I suggest you don’t actually kill me, no matter how badly you want to.” He grabs my wrist, and my skin prickles at his touch as he sets the dagger in my hand.
“Why? Isn’t it my right to kill you since I’m the only reason you’re here right now?”
“I suppose. That is, if you have a death wish yourself.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Rite has rules, like anything else with the gods. Until we fulfill our promise, we’re all tied. You… me… Malachi.”
“Tied how?”
Wilder steps closer, and even if he doesn’t lift a hand, I feel him on my cheek, drifting a lick of magic over my freckles.
“If one of us dies, we all do. Why do you think Malachi hasn’t made a move and tried to slaughter me in my sleep?”
“Because he’d rather wait and watch you lose to him in the Rite?”
Wilder’s golden eyes darken. His pupils drink some of the gold the longer I stare into them. “Ask your king if you don’t believe me. That is, if you can believe him. Either way, you’re stuck with me for at least a little while longer, Starfire. Like it or not, you can’t kill me.”
With a final brush of magic on my throat, Wilder turns and walks away.