40
Psychomancers were rare. They were one of the three mind mages, their patroness Nafiza, was the being who was once three sisters. Psychomancers were originally gifted by Aaseayah, the middle sister, the abilities ranging from telepathy to vision and memory alteration. It was clear from Malik’s performance that his gift was the latter. Whatever he was making Jericho see, it was not what everyone else was observing. Whatever it was, it was enough for a king to lose all royal composure and lash out with rage.
Valine stared out the window of the carriage, seething. Malik withheld incredibly pertinent information from her. That was twice now. It wasn’t lying, but deliberately withholding was just as bad. She was sure the rage showed on her face, because her jaw ached with the pressure of keeping it still.
When they stopped in the Muravo Pass, Valine got out and strode off. Malik quickly caught up to her, reading her body language. He grabbed her by the arm and whirled her around. Ire flashed in her eyes. She felt her lip curl without her volition, and Malik froze, taking her in.
“You figured it out,” he said flatly. He did not release her.
“What?” she hissed, rage flooding her face. “That you’re a fucking psychomancer and didn’t fucking tell me?”
Malik covered her mouth and glanced around sharply. No one had seemed to notice. “Do not say that again,” he admonished her softly. “No one knows.”
Valine felt some of her anger evaporate. “No one?”
“No one,” he confirmed.
“Have you ever used it on me?” she asked, her voice steady, her eyes hard. Wrath simmering beneath the surface of her skin.
Malik held her gaze, and without hesitation, he told her. “No. But I have used it around you.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t use it very often because the false memories create a ripple in the air and anyone nearby will feel it. If they know what to look for and are sensitive to it, it’s obvious.”
“The vertigo.”
“Yes. Which is why I usually reserve it for high emotion situations and generally expose it only in circumstances that a bout of lightheadedness would go unnoticed.”
Valine realized he’d used it when they first arrived in Talloh. The sudden change in the king hadn’t been from a change in attitude. It was from a change in memory. And Valine’s fatigue was not from travel, it was from exposure to Malik’s magic. He’d also used it when she’d first revealed she was a necromancer.
“You cannot tell anyone,” he implored her, capturing both her hands. “Please.”
“I won’t say anything,” she replied automatically. Then realization struck her. “That’s how. You’re going to make everyone think I haven’t left the group.”
Malik smiled, it was part relief, part anxiety. “Clever Little Liar.”
Struck with emotion, Valine clutched Malik’s face and brought his lips to hers in a furious kiss. She parted his lips with her tongue, and the glide of his against hers had her moaning into his mouth. Their lips caught between teeth and were traced by tongues, a rough battle of wills and emotion. She broke from him and pressed her brow to his.
“Never use it one me.”
“Never.”
“I have to go,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said softly. “Please be careful.”
“I will, I’ll see you soon.”
He kissed her harshly and she responded in kind. When they broke apart again, Valine stepped back, unclasping her cloak, and handing it to him before slipping against the rock.
“Be careful,” Malik told her again, wanting to say something else, longing burning in his gaze.
“I will.”
She turned and slipped into the shadows. Although she didn’t say it, she was leaving her heart behind.