Chapter 40 #2
At the sound of her name, she lifted her head and angled her nose toward me like she knew I was bragging about her. I stroked the broad curve of her head, running my fingers over one of her floppy ears before giving it a gentle tug.
“The cat might be a good pet.” I eyed the little menace who kept in step with Etienne as if he knew we were talking about him.
“You’d have to name him, though,” Finley added.
“Frisky,” Etienne said without hesitation.
Alastor’s chuckle came out low. “What would you do with a cat, pray tell?”
Etienne lifted a shoulder, the corners of his mouth tilting in a sheepish grin. “I only meant, he’s frisky. That’s all.”
“You probably shouldn’t keep him,” I added. “You don’t seem like a cat guy at all.”
Finley giggled, squeezing my hand once before pressing a quick kiss to my shoulder.
“You’re all assholes,” Etienne muttered.
Laughter echoed through the heavily wooded forest. Trunks rose like giants reaching for the sky. Their branches tangled high above us, weaving a canopy so thick it swallowed the sunlight with only thin streams of gold filtering through the leaves.
It didn’t matter how often I stepped into the Sali oak forest. It didn’t seem real, but more like a place that only existed in dreams.
When we reached the pond, the cat, or Frisky, darted ahead again. While Alastor untied his boots, I knelt in front of Finley to do the same for her. Her fingers wove through the messy strands of my hair, and when I looked up at her, all I saw was the love I had for her reflecting in her eyes.
“I’ve been thinking,” Alastor said, rolling up his pant legs before he dipped his feet into the shallow edge of the pond.
He sat on a damp pile of leaves and turned to face Finley and me. Finley offered her hand to steady me as I kicked off my boots and lowered to sit between her and Alastor. I didn’t need the help, but I let her give it anyway. Because it was her and the way she showed her love.
To think, I believed I could lose this when the love we shared was threaded through us.
Etienne settled beside her while Luana stretched out behind us. The water lapped at our feet, a cool contrast to the heavy warmth in the air.
“Next time you train with Eiran, it might prove useful to build in meditation and breathing exercises to center you both,” Alastor said, his attention on the rippling water. “When Zaicha attacks again, that focus could be the difference between who holds control and who doesn’t.”
For several beats, no one spoke. The wind rustled the canopy overhead, sending streams of sunlight across the pond. Frisky brushed against Etienne’s arm before he sat like a little sentinel at his side.
Alastor folded his hands loosely on his lap. “Will you try it with me?”
“Yes, of course,” Finley said.
“You’re going to breathe in through your nose, hold it for ten counts, and release through your mouth. Slow and controlled, so you dictate the pace and not panic.”
He guided us through it, and I did as he said. The air was rich with the summer heat and the scent of damp earth. Beside me, Finley’s shoulders lifted and fell with each practiced breath. To my surprise, Etienne followed too.
In and out. Over and over again. Listening to the easy cadence of Alastor’s voice and letting calm wash over me.
As time ticked by, some of the tension in Etienne’s jaw eased. His hands, clenched as if always ready to fight, stilled against his knees.
Frisky chose that moment to leap onto Etienne’s lap and curl into a tight ball. Etienne’s smile was filled with genuine joy, and when he ran his hand over the cat’s back, Frisky arched into the touch.
The rhythm of Alastor’s voice and the sound of the water pulled me in. The world didn’t quiet very often, but for a few breaths, it did.
The fight was coming. I felt it in the way Finley’s and my bond trembled with our magic. When it came, we’d face it together.
Beside me, she shifted, her back straight, eyes wide, and breath caught in her throat. Alastor’s steady words faltered when he noticed.
“I have an idea,” she said. The words tumbled from her mouth, a spark of the wildfire I loved, surfacing.
Alastor tilted his head, his shadows gliding across the water.
She brushed a loose strand of her hair back but dropped her hand before she reached the jagged end.
“We keep waiting for her to attack. Keep preparing for when she says it’s time.
” Her mouth curved. Not exactly a smile, but something fiercer, more feral.
“What if we stop waiting? What if we draw her out? Make her fight on our terms.”
Alastor’s gaze flicked between us. “Where do you intend on leading her?”
“The astral realm,” she said without hesitation. “Eiran wants her back, but not on her terms. On his. He can summon her, and we’ll already be there waiting.”
The weight of her confidence wrapped around me. Steady and inevitable.
“We need her to bring the orb with her.” Alastor brought up his hand and tapped his fingertips on his chin. “It must be destroyed.”
“The orb kills whoever destroys it,” I said quietly, remembering my first interaction with Alastor. How pale and weak he’d been after Leanora had almost bled his magic dry.
“There’s a volcano in Vistos,” he said, his voice slipping into that smooth, unnerving calm he wore like armor. “If we drop it in there, it should destroy it without killing us.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Should?”
His grin was sharp and wicked and far too pleased for someone talking about a possibly fatal plan. “We’ll know if it works.”
From the way Finley’s pulse thumped through our bond, burning bright and unshakable, I knew she wasn’t afraid. She was claiming.
She was done running from what she was. As she’d told me earlier, she was taking her magic back and not letting it take from her.
I believed her then. And sitting here with that wildfire buzzing between us, I believed her even more.
She wasn’t simply ready for this fight. She was the fight.