Chapter 22 Harkin
Chapter twenty-two
Harkin
Aday and a night had passed, and the world felt a little less tremulous. As dawn lifted her hazy head, my thoughts finally settled into place. I had a plan that might actually work for both Seren and me.
We had not spoken much the previous night. I had been stewing over how to convince her to give in to her mágik fully and how to gain her trust—in actuality this time.
A proper night's sleep had done wonders, and I felt refreshed.
I stood in the clearing, waiting for Seren to emerge from the cottage and join me.
The itch of impatience niggled me as the minutes crept past, achingly slow.
I busied myself by studying the trees that lined our glade.
A light dusting of snow blanketed the branches, crunching as I trudged through it.
Seren exited the cottage hesitantly, like she was seeking permission. From me? From herself?
She sidled up beside me as I looked confidently upon a large pine in my path. Seren whispered as if she were interrupting a conversation. “What are you doing?”
“Excellent question.” I shot her a tentative smile. “I was choosing your foe for the afternoon.”
“My foe? Are they in the woods?”
My grin grew wider. “They are the woods. Specifically, this tree here. I heard what you said about using your mágik for violence. I understand why you won’t go down that path just yet, but we do need to continue your progress. I have devised a compromise for us.”
She raised her eyebrows, arms folded across her chest. She remembered her cloak this time. I itched to straighten the bow at her collar.
“Instead of hitting me, you’ll aim for the tree.
You learn how to use your mágik in a different way, but there is no risk or intention of harming anyone.
” I gestured toward the tree as if it were some great feat.
I knew it was silly, but I couldn’t help adding a dash of showmanship. I ached to see her smile one more time.
Seren rolled her eyes but nodded grudgingly. She paused. “Wait. What if there’s a Tünécris living in this tree? I could hurt them.”
I looked at her incredulously.
“What? Earth sprites can dwell within trees, can they not?”
“They can…” I admitted grudgingly. “But I do not believe this particular tree is inhabited. You’re welcome to knock, see if anyone is home, if you don’t believe me.”
A scowl spread across Seren’s face as she regarded me. “It’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.” I let out a startled cough as Seren’s fist met my shoulder, aggravating the half healed wound at my ribs. I grunted in protest. “Fine. My apologies. Regardless of the humor—or lack thereof—in this situation, do you find the compromise suitable?”
She considered this for a moment, then another. “I accept this compromise. What should I do?”
“Gather the mágik as you did yesterday. Let it swell until it feels like a wave just about to crest.” Water swelled through her outstretched fingers, growing into a large mass before her. “Good. Do you feel it pushing back against you?”
Seren nodded, her tongue pressed against the sharp point of her incisor as she focused on her control. I pulled my gaze away just in time to watch the mass burst apart, splashing us both with an icy spray.
We sputtered, brushing droplets from our cloaks.
I hardly managed to withhold my laughter. “Try again. This time, when you feel the push, you need to pull back, change its trajectory. Focus on directing it away from you and toward the tree.”
“Right. Toward the tree.” She seemed to be talking to herself more than me.
The mágik built up in her outstretched hands once more, growing larger and more powerful.
With a flourish, she pushed her body forward.
Her face fell as the mágik did, a puddle forming in the snow not a foot away.
She paused, staring at the failed attempt then tried again with little change in result.
Seren growled in frustration. “Why is it not working?”
“You aren’t letting the mágik flow through you,” I corrected. “You’re trying too hard to force it instead of working with it.”
“How do I fix it?” She ground out between clenched teeth.
“Here. May I?” I stepped into her space, chest nearly brushing her back. Her spine straightened, but she did not protest. “Wield your mágik once more.”
As the sphere formed in her palm, I touched lightly at her collarbone. “Feel the mágik here first, pay attention to the way it flows through you.”
My fingers trailed across her shoulder and down her arm until my hand cupped hers, palm brushing knuckles. I wrapped my other arm around her waist, my left hand coming to rest upon her stomach. She was warm and lithe, and my blood hummed to be so near.
“Do you feel it? That power growing within your gut and the moment when it threatens to break free?” When she nodded, her hair brushed my neck.
Her scent—honey and polished steel—washed over me.
I inhaled, breath stirring the hesitant air around us.
“Let that feeling guide you. Take that unease and turn it into a partnership. Let the mágik serve you.”
Our bodies became flush as she took a half step back. Or had I pulled her to me?
Seren’s mágik swelled to the breaking point then rippled forward—a slow stuttering path, but one that landed true.
I pulled away, cold without her warmth against me.
She turned to me, quiet pride gracing her features. “I did it!”
“You did. Try again. See if you can maintain your aim when you add a bit more speed.” I moved a few paces away, desperate to put distance between us. I tried to ignore the way I absorbed every one of her movements and expressions.
I was a fool. She had seen a piece of my soul, and I could think of nothing else. Why did Seren have to be the one to see through me? She was infuriating and stubborn and in another handful of weeks, I would never see her again.
Her third shot sailed in a smooth arc, shaking the tree's wide trunk and sending leaves fluttering from their branches.
“Please, tell me you were watching that one. That was really good!” Seren’s excitement quickly dissipated as a Tünécris emerged from the base of the tree, a nearly imperceptible door cracking open in the bark.
The sprite was unharmed—her worries had been unfounded—but the creature was furious and… wet. The remnants of Seren’s water mágik dripped off the tree trunk, landing on the sprite’s head. It flew toward her, squeaking angrily. She stared at it with wide-eyed panic. “Harkin, what do I do?”
“I guess there was a Tünécris living in this tree after all.” I could hardly keep the amusement from my voice.
“Obviously,” she spat. “Help me!”
The creature fluttered around her, surely cursing her in its own language.
Seren lifted her hands placatingly, and the sprite swooped upon her, sinking its razor sharp teeth into her finger. She shrieked, waving her arm wildly.
The Tünécris dislodged, tumbling through the air before catching its balance.
“The little devil bit me!” Seren was still screaming, and my laughter bubbled up unbidden. “Stop laughing! Make it go away!”
I felt the laughter throughout my entire body—in the pleasant ache around my middle. My shoulders shook with the effort of holding it back. I grabbed Seren’s wrist, tugging her behind me.
“We are very sorry for intruding upon you.” I bowed my head to the sprite. “Please accept our sincere apologies.”
The Tünécris shot forward, giving my hair a great tug with its tiny hands, giving us both a final glare before storming back to its home and slamming the door.
I chuckled, smoothing a hand over my head.
Seren pinched my arm. “Did you know it was there all along? Was that a trick?”
“No—I swear it—but I almost wish it had been. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard.” My cheeks ached from smiling.
Her eyes narrowed. “Remember what I said before? About you meeting the Gryffem? Keep this up and see if that promise doesn’t ring true.”
“I have never doubted the might of your wrath, Ren.” The nickname slipped between my lips before I could stop it. I had the lingering memory of calling her that once before, as I lay wounded on the floor encumbered by an injury induced half-sleep.
“You had better not,” Seren huffed, cradling her bleeding, bitten finger.
“Let me see your battle wounds,” I demanded, reaching for her already.
She placed her hand in mine, and I pulled her closer. The pad of her finger was pinpricked. Tiniest teeth marks welled with blood.
“Hmm.” I pressed against the sides of the wound—ever so gently—and the droplet grew, bright red against white snow. I brought her hand to my mouth. My lips ran along the sensitive skin, salt and iron blooming on my tongue.
“Harkin…” Her lips parted, eyes heavy lidded. We were so close now, our chests brushed.
I dropped her hand with a shake of my head. Fuck.
Her expression was indiscernible as she backed away, and I didn’t follow. I would let her bandage her own wounds this time.