Chapter Fifteen Lore #2
He sat on the edge of the mattress, looking as reserved as ever, but there was a lightness about him now too.
He’d been really worried.
I supposed that was due to the small fact that the fate of the realms rested on me figuring out my power, and up until a little while ago, I’d only mastered the art of creative—and highly expressive—mental swearing.
“We’ll practice daily to keep your shields strong, but you did well, Lore.”
A smile curved my lips.
Partly from the praise, but also because while I was more tired and drained than ever before, and while a sliver of doubt crept in, I also felt good.
I’d done it!
I’d kept a Prince of Sin from breaking through my mental shield.
In theory, if I could withstand his power, I should be able to keep the Liber Noctem out as well. Then I might really be able to direct which stories we ended up in. I’d take anything that could give us an edge.
I desperately wanted to help find the Book of Nightmares and give Sloth a chance to spell it forever. Then I wanted to go home and hug my family.
My victory was extra sweet since I knew Sloth hadn’t held back; he’d given it his all. While his power was still overwhelming, I’d finally reinforced my own magic enough to withstand each of his attempts to infiltrate my barriers.
I’d also sensed the first trickles of power that didn’t belong to me before he’d fully stepped into my head and immediately slammed that wall into place, effectively blocking him from invading, no matter how clever his tactics were.
Now it only took minimal effort to keep the barrier up while I focused on other things. He was right—it had been natural, and once I’d gotten enough practice, it was like working out certain muscles. I could flex it at will.
“If you sit up, we’ll start testing your dreamweaver magic.”
I rolled to my side and buried my face with a pillow.
Maybe if I smothered myself a new dreamweaver would magically appear and become the champion. Being a main character was exhausting.
Sloth plucked the pillow off my head and tossed it to the side like the wicked prince he was.
I was more drained than I cared to admit, so I just lay there and pretended like his gaze wasn’t burning a hole through me.
The sociopath reached over and flicked me, not hard enough to hurt, but enough for me to realize I’d drifted off and had started snoring.
I groaned.
“It’s dawn.” I flung an arm over my eyes in a sorry attempt to block the light. “Don’t you believe in the restorative power of sleep? You’re the Prince of Sloth; try to behave more accordingly or your court will launch an uprising.”
He was undeterred.
“My court doesn’t act out of emotion. They are preoccupied with their own academic pursuits and will have the knowledge and power to maintain the status quo while I’m gone.”
Honestly, I would love to be a member of his court. Reading my chosen genre all day was definitely an appealing sin.
“We’ve been in this story for hours. If the Book of Nightmares hasn’t begun twisting it yet, it will soon. We need to figure out what your test is.”
I dropped my arm from my face and peered up at him.
He was right. No matter how physically exhausted I was, we needed to keep forging ahead while we had some respite.
I pulled the phoenix tear from my pocket and held it tightly.
It was still hard to believe it came from a mythological creature, and I had such an odd sense of sadness for this bird I didn’t know. It must have been heartbroken to cry magical tears. I swore a slight hum went through the stone, but other than that, it remained inert.
I really wanted to try to overpower the Liber Noctem before this test began. If this story followed the main plotline, then I had a growing fear about what the test might involve. Or rather, who.
I tried to remember what I’d been thinking or feeling back in Bellington. There had to be some spark, some trigger.
I closed my eyes and let the worry and pressure slip away.
We sat quietly for a while, and I pretended not to notice the tension building in the room as the minutes ticked by.
I poked and prodded at my mind, searching for any part that felt different. It wasn’t like building a mental shield, and aside from allowing myself a few moments to daydream and see if that worked, we remained in the inn.
I exhaled, centering myself again.
I tried to imagine a channel or thread that bound me to the phoenix tear, allowing it to help guide my power.
But whatever made me a dreamweaver didn’t respond.
I glanced over at the prince.
“Nothing is happening. I can’t seem to feel or identify anything that triggers my power. Or the phoenix tear.”
He stood from the bed and began pacing in the small space between the bed and the copper tub. “You should be able to shift us. Try manifesting a small change here. Maybe turn the glass into a mug.”
I gave him a dubious look but focused on the empty lager glass.
I held the phoenix tear tightly, envisioning my mother’s favorite “one more chapter” mug, which Fable and I had made her when we were children.
I could see the chip, the stained enamel. I could even smell her favorite rose hips tea. I opened my eyes and… nothing. The lager glass hadn’t changed.
The prince pressed his lips into a tight line and remained silent.
He was doing his analytical mind thing again, flipping through catalogues of information he kept stored there.
He started pacing again and cut a few glances my way, his brows tugging closer and closer together. My magic clearly wasn’t meeting his expectations, which made me more nervous. I’d told him I wasn’t a dreamweaver. And now we were in serious trouble.
He finally stopped moving and peered down at me.
“The first use of your powers came when we were under attack. Which could indicate a fear of death. Then you shifted us again when…”
I fought my smile, waiting to see how he finished that sentence.
He cleared his throat but was obviously at a loss.
The fearsome prince could handle giant spiders and bar brawls, but sharing his emotions was the one hurdle he couldn’t leap over.
I began mentally designing a tattoo for him, Felled by Feelings.
All my favorite love interests had unique tattoos, and it was something I liked to imagine to bring some normalcy back into my life.
The typeface would need to be bold, no-nonsense, and in a blue that matched his eyes. Maybe with some decorative icicles dripping from it as an ode to his chilly personality.
After another silent minute passed and he seemed no closer to expanding his thought, I decided to tease him.
“Are you talking about when you held the dagger to my throat?” I adopted my most innocent expression. “Or when you did some very interesting moves with your hips after you pinned my arms above my head?”
He shot me an unreadable look.
“Fear seems to be the common thread for your magic. Which makes sense, given how much the goddess thrives on it.”
I wasn’t as sure.
I thought back to when he’d pressed me against the wall and had leaned in.
I’d been convinced he was about to kiss me, and if the hungry look in his eyes was anything to go by, it would have been the sort of kiss I’d sell my soul over.
Obviously, fear had been the last emotion I’d felt.
Even if he’d looked like he hated the idea of losing control.
I was momentarily spellbound by the flicker of desire I’d seen in him, the passionate blaze he hid so well beneath that frosty veneer.
I never thought he’d be capable of such warmth or feeling, especially when it came to me. I suspected he’d been unaware his mask had slipped.
When he’d lifted my chin using the flat part of his blade, my brain promptly short-circuited, and I’d thrown common sense out the window.
Ready, willing, and able to sign on the dotted line and give myself over to the Underworld.
Apparently, a knife to the throat was appealing in the right circumstances.
“Not exactly fear-based.”
Unless I was afraid of admitting my desires.
I pushed myself into a sitting position when he finally stopped pacing and sat next to me. I rubbed the phoenix tear, hoping it would wake up now and get me out of this conversation.
“I was afraid you were dying with the spiders, but… I wasn’t scared in the cave.”
He cocked his head to one side.
“What were you feeling then?”
His expression remained an inscrutable mask, giving nothing away, but I could have sworn his eyes held a spark of intrigue.
I couldn’t tell if he was genuinely seeking the answer or simply wished to gauge my reaction, but either way, the atmosphere slowly became charged with a different kind of tension.
I suddenly realized we were alone. Sitting on one small bed.
As if he was just noticing the same thing, he shifted a little, his leg pressing firmly against mine. Gods. Maybe this was my test. My fear of rejection.
The heat of his muscular thigh warmed me through the fabric of my new dress. The dress he’d sent for while I was practicing my shields.
He glanced down, and I wished I could decipher his expression.
He’d asked me something, but I was struggling to recall what.
My feelings. He’d wanted to know what I’d felt when he’d thoroughly knocked me off-kilter back in the cavern.
“With the dagger or the hips?”
Energy crackled between us as he leveled me with his full attention again, the force almost palpable as his cool gaze locked onto mine and remained.
“Both. Either.” He lifted a shoulder, then dropped it. As if he didn’t care one way or another, but then he abruptly stood and took a few steps away from the bed. “If you weren’t scared, were you angry?”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
He’d admitted to sensing emotions; he knew what I’d been feeling.
He was most definitely messing with me.
Suddenly, I wished I hadn’t poked fun at him. He had obviously sensed my desire and now I had to figure out how to play my hand.
My throat felt parched.
There had to be a simple way I could talk my way around what I’d felt without setting off his lie-detecting senses.
It wasn’t like I was withholding important information that would help us. He already knew I’d felt desire, not fear.
I wasn’t sure what his game or angle was, but I refused to submit.
If he wouldn’t admit that he’d been considering a kiss, I wouldn’t admit how much I’d wanted him to. In that moment.
I chalked it up to TICS, temporary internal conflict syndrome. Never mind it was a completely made-up ailment.
“I—”
He stepped closer and loomed over the bed, enjoying every second I squirmed under that penetrating stare.
“You?”
I inhaled deeply, searching for the first, most ridiculous thing I could say…
The prince was really getting me flustered.
I rubbed the phoenix tear like it was a worry stone.
An enormous shadow flew past our window, eclipsing the light of the sun.
Whatever caused the momentary blackout circled back and hovered there, blanketing us in thick shades of gray before moving on again.
I released a dramatic whoosh of air.
I’d never been more relieved at an ominous interruption before in my life, even if it meant this was the testing portion of this Trial.
“Saved by the… Oh, gods.”
This was bad.
If the shadow belonged to what I feared it did, then I needed to suddenly figure out my magic and overpower the Liber Noctem to get us to the next story.
Immediately.
Otherwise, I was pretty sure I knew what this test would be.
I really didn’t want the prince to witness my complete and utter ruination. It wouldn’t be at the hands of someone else; I suspected it would be my own undoing.