Chapter Three #2
Another teacup in my hand, I braced against the cold thrill that rolled down my spine.
Not at the prospect of a shapeshifter in our midst, but at the dark grumble that rose among the Kingsmen at their Captain’s warning.
Sorcha met my eye briefly before we both glanced away, not a flicker of reaction between us – though that in itself was a challenge.
My Flame warred in my chest with the cold flood of fear that had taken root, and that battle raged more fiercely the closer I drew to the Captain.
There were only two teacups left to fill before I reached him.
My lungs were on the brink of collapse, each breath tight and searing.
“We’ll call on each local residence and begin the first stage of interviews –”
I dragged in a breath and grappled at my Flame, clutching inwardly with everything I had. Calm, I told it, please stay calm. Then I stepped up to the Captain’s side and reached for his cup, willing my hand not to tremble as the tea streamed and pooled.
“That’s plenty, Rosaleen, thank you.”
I’d filled it just over halfway when the warmth of his hand settled, light but firm, on my forearm – and my magic lunged at my ribs. Burning breath sawed through me in a near-silent gasp, and I set the cup down with a clatter, backing away with my knuckles taut around the pot handle.
I didn’t dare look at the Captain, but I swore I felt the curious brush of his eyes on me – and the weight of a few others, too. Perhaps my gasp had not been silent after all.
“Call if you need more tea,” I said numbly. “Or… bread.”
And with that, I hurried around the table, catching Sorcha by the elbow as I went, and dragging her from the room. In the tavern, neither of us spoke until we had ducked behind the bar and tucked ourselves into the farthest corner – and even then, Sorcha’s voice was a strained hush.
“What was that about?”
“Never mind that, are you alright?”
I reached for her, but she grabbed my hand midway and squeezed it urgently.
“Roz, I’m fine. He’s a pig, but –” She shook her head, and fixed me with her troubled blue stare. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing, I just –”
I rubbed at my sternum, and Sorcha did not miss the unconscious gesture.
“Your Flame?”
“It… reacts,” I admitted reluctantly. “Around the Captain.”
Sorcha’s eyes blew wide as saucers, her sweet voice dropping to a stage whisper.
“The Soul Song?”
“What?” I screeched, and we both jolted at the sudden volume of my voice.
Sorcha gripped my wrist tight, head whipping around toward the dining hall. My heart was pounding as I followed her gaze, though it had little to do with the fear that someone would come investigate my outburst.
The mere suggestion that my magic might sing for a Captain of the Kingsguard was laughable.
Impossible, in fact. My parents were the only true soulmates I had ever known; the mating of two souls was that rare.
Rare as a toad’s fangs, my father had always said.
Rare among the covens, and unheard of among humans as far as I knew – how could they be mated, when they had no magic to complete the duet?
Sorcha’s raised brow, an odd mix of hope and fear, snatched me from my racing thoughts.
“No, gods, nothing like that! No, it – I don’t know. It seems to sort of… panic. If he gets too close.”
Sorcha considered me, brows knitted.
“You talk about it as though it’s alive.”
This, from an earthwitch, might have surprised me once upon a time.
Their power was life itself, so for a long time I couldn’t understand why they held such distaste for our relationship with magic; mine, my father’s and Mag’s.
But over time, as our tenuous ties with her coven eroded, I came to understand that my mother’s people saw magic differently – a function of the living witch, like breath or digestion, rather than a symbiotic entity.
Their contempt and mistrust for us ran so deep, I had to admit I’d been shocked that my aunt sent her daughter to aid me when I reached out in those desperate days after Magnus left.
I supposed I shouldn’t be shocked to hear how little Sorcha understood of my magic – though I knew her well enough now to realise it was innocence rather than ignorance.
“Of course not,” I said quickly. The lie tasted sour on my tongue, but I couldn’t stand to see her worry about our status as magic users.
Couldn’t stand to see those worries feed into the insidious fear I knew had taken root in her as it had in me.
Bloody Tanner and his big mouth. “Fire magic is just a little… wilder. Harder to control.”
“But you’re worried,” she whispered. “They’re hunting a magic user, and you think –”
“No,” I said firmly. “I’ve done nothing wrong, and neither have you.”
Sorcha dropped my gaze, her hand going limp in mine. She drew in a breath, and for a strange moment I thought she might contradict me. But then the moment passed, and she squeezed my hand tighter, lips pursing.
“Alright,” she agreed, still looking at her feet.
“We just – we won’t flaunt our magic either, right? We’ll be as cautious as we always are.”
She finally met my eye and nodded. “Yes. Alright.”