Chapter 21
Aurora
Aurora was still in a state of shock by the time court ended early for the day.
She supposed she shared that with the petitioners, who were remarkably few and far between.
The regular courtiers were unusually reserved, daring only to congratulate them.
Aurora didn’t know whether or not that should concern her yet.
“You really don’t do things by halves,” Aurora remarked as they dined on a midday feast.
It seemed the whole of Altanus was celebrating their reconciliation.
Polydorus had decided it would be best if the palace provided a fair bit of liquid encouragement to ensure the stories about this day were good ones.
As a result, the streets were full of cheery drunks and impromptu parties.
Even so far ensconced within the palace, faint strands of music and revelry reached them.
Theron grinned.
“Something of a shared trait, I think. Admit it, anything less would not have satisfied the vengeful little fairy mouse inside you.”
Aurora tried to hide her smirk.
“I’ll admit no such thing.”
Not out loud, at least. But he was correct.
She’d never witnessed such a dreadful public spectacle—nor been so moved by what it meant.
He really did mean to put her first and politics second.
He was committed. But as for her? She’d forgiven him then, when he’d done exactly as she’d demanded, admitting his wrongs and ensuring all of Aureum would hold him to account for it.
Her heart was another matter. A great weight was lifted, yes, except it was still bruised.
For the first time in weeks, she could see a path forward for them, but she still needed to walk that path.
“What has stolen your smile?”
She touched her lips, surprised her expression had changed.
“It’s just…even after everything, I’m still hurt.”
“I asked for your forgiveness, and you’ve given it, but that doesn’t mean all is forgotten. For now, I’m grateful for the chance to win back your heart.”
“And what will you do to win me?”
“It’s a surprise.” He winked.
She rolled her eyes.
“Sounds like someone doesn’t have a plan.”
“Oh, there are plans aplenty,” he said, his voice deepening. It sent a frisson through her, her body responding as if he’d trailed his fingers across her skin. “But I’m holding myself back. I’ve no intention of scaring you off just yet.”
Aurora swallowed.
“I don’t scare so easily.”
“Is that so?” he asked, getting up from his seat. He towered over her, his eyes blazing with heat as they roamed across every part of her. Aurora did her best to keep her cool, sipping her wine with a raised brow.
“Then perhaps I can persuade you.” His gaze locked on her lips. Goddesses, yes, it had been so long since she’d lost herself in a kiss with him. Longer still since she’d felt his hands branding her with his passion. “To resume your magic lessons.”
The spell was broken. She blinked in disbelief. Only to find a playful smirk on his face.
“Oh! You beast of a man!” she growled, pinching his side.
Theron laughed. It made her still. Had she ever heard him laugh like that? So carefree? It was as if the rite had not only unlocked her heart, but his as well. As his laughter died down, his smile was like warm honey.
“Be forewarned, if you’re a very naughty pupil, I might be forced to correct such behaviour once class has ended,” he purred.
“Oh? I don’t believe you.” She shrugged, trying and failing to keep her voice even.
“I’m a changed man, Aurora. Keeping my vows is very important to me.”
“And what vows are those, precisely?”
“I believe I once promised to tie you up and torment you until your knees buckled and your honey coated your inner thighs. I had no intention of stopping until you’d begged me so sweetly I was moved to show mercy.
Only once I’d made a mess of you did I plan to fuck the brat out of you.
But you wouldn’t want that, would you? After all, you plan on being a very good girl for our lesson. ”
It took several moments for Aurora to compose herself.
She wasn’t certain what she wanted more—to be called a brat or a good girl.
The image he painted made her throb with need, made her desperate for a taste of him.
She loosened her death-grip on her wine glass and even managed to set it down without embarrassing herself.
Leaning back in her seat, she examined her nails.
“I don’t believe I agreed to a lesson.”
But he was not one to be so easily dissuaded. Theron tipped her chin up with a curled finger, forcing her to gaze into the molten gold of his eyes.
“Aurora,” he rumbled.
She couldn’t help the shiver his deep voice sent down her spine. Neither could she hide it from him. His smile widened. Though he’d won this round, she wasn’t the least bit upset.
“Alright.”
“Good, because today you learn to recognise—and accept—your limits. Each time you push past them, you do incredible damage to your body. If I weren’t around to heal you, it would take you weeks to recover, understand?”
She nodded, surprised by his vehemence.
“Your word, love.”
She blushed.
“I understand.”
“Good, then I want you…” He grabbed an oil lamp and lit the wick before setting it before her. “To freeze the flame in place.”
She sank her magic’s teeth into the wick, holding it still. Theron waved a hand next to it, to test whether it would flicker. When it didn’t, he pulled up a seat across from her.
“Your magic is a wonder to behold.”
Aurora couldn’t help her smile.
“When we near the limits of our wild magic, there is a feeling associated with it. But it’s faint, and it’s especially difficult to sense for those accustomed to feeding the magic one’s emotions.
Wild magic wants to run free. It hates limits.
But our bodies can only handle so much before they break down.
Sometimes, this is a blessing. In the face of overwhelming danger, being able to push past your limits might mean you survive another day.
But oftentimes it damages the body so severely you risk death by internal injury.
I have healed you of such injuries time and again.
It’s well past time you learned how to be less reckless. ”
“Then what does it feel like?” she asked, sweat beading her brow. He hadn’t exactly been in a hurry to explain this lesson, and yet all the while she held the wick and flame still.
He grinned.
“Are you picturing that amphora in your mind, the one with the hole in the bottom?”
“Vaguely.”
“Make it clearer. Think about how heavy that amphora was when you first stilled the flame. In your mind, you’re holding it in your arms, and as the water drains from the bottom, the amphora becomes lighter. How much water remains, Aurora?”
“I…” She halted, closing her eyes to picture what he said. “I don’t know. More than half?”
“How much longer do you think you could hold that flame?”
“Another half hour.”
“Truly?”
“Yes,” she answered, opening her eyes.
She’d held attendants half as long in short bursts in order to write her letters to Hyllus and they were much harder to hold than a single flame.
“Yet you’re already breathing hard. Sweat is beading at your temples, and you’ve taken to clenching your fists.”
She loosened her hold on her gown, wiping away the clamminess of her palms.
“What does that have to do with anything?” she asked defensively.
“It means the hole in your amphora is larger than you think. It means you still require a great deal of practise before you can safely still that flame for half an hour.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t even have a headache yet.” She waved him off.
“If you have a headache, then you’ve pushed past your limit.”
Aurora frowned.
“I’ll never accomplish anything at that rate.”
If she’d stopped every time she had a headache, she would never have learned what it felt like to freeze or speed up time. Certainly, she never would have been able to push time backwards.
“Do you know how long it takes for the average person to master their magic? To the point where they can continuously wield it for an hour without exhausting themselves or feeling a physical strain?”
“No,” she grumbled, suspecting she wasn’t going to like the answer.
“Years, Aurora. How long do you suppose it takes to learn to stretch that hour out from one to three? To seven? More?”
Her heart sank.
“I don’t know.”
“A decade, at least.”
“We don’t have that much time!”
The cycle of calamity was upon them this very moment. Drakon roamed Aureum unchecked, and he wasn’t going to take a decade-long break.
“Yes, we do. And you’ve already made good progress. Now, release the flame.”
She did as he instructed and sat back in her seat, scowling at him.
“You never told me what it’s supposed to feel like—my limit,” she grouched, trying not to huff and puff.
“Do you believe you’ve reached it tonight?”
“No.”
As far as she was concerned, her limit was when she was too spent to stand, too exhausted to open her eyes, and every muscle in her body felt bruised and beaten.
“You would be wrong. The moment you began physically straining yourself, you neared it. How do your muscles feel?”
She flexed her arms and clenched her thighs.
“Like I just ran.”
“And was it a pleasant run? A bit of exercise to get the blood flowing? Or does a nice break under the shade sound appealing?”
“The latter,” she admitted.
He leaned back, his expression grave.
“Then you’ve already harmed yourself. Except unlike exercise, this damage doesn’t help you grow stronger—it weakens you. Not permanently, mind you, but it takes time to properly recover.”
Aurora swallowed back as much frustration as she could. It wasn’t his fault she was such a novice.
“Then how am I supposed to do anything at all with my magic?”
“You learn to walk before you take to running. If you’re reaching your limit faster than you would like, then you need to better control the flow of your magic. It’s no longer a torrent, pouring out of you in a few heartbeats, but only just.”
She groaned, head in her hands.
“You’re telling me to go back to the basics.”