Chapter 36
CARWYNN
Wyatt glanced to David. Not alarmed but intrigued.
“The Shield King,” Wyatt muttered. “What do you think he’s doing here?” The question clearly for David.
David just stared at me as if solving an invisible math equation across my face. He lightly shook his head in confusion in answer to Wyatt.
Excuse me, a what?
“Shield King?” I asked, eyes flicking between the both of them.
David’s expression darkened.
“When the Vinter King disappeared, Vinterland needed someone to lead in his place. To hold the crown until the king returned. Alvar was appointed their Shield King.” David chewed on his bottom lip, a rare crack in his composure.
“He was the Commander of the Elven Army. The King’s right hand and most trusted blade.
When he stepped up, rumors spread that he orchestrated the King’s disappearance to seize power.
But—” David’s eyes met mine. “Not everyone believes in rumors.” It was an unspoken accusation—the Skell King.
A fearsome elf warrior hijacking the throne sounded like a juicy power move.
But if there’s anyone more power-hungry than that in the realm, it was the Skell King.
Alvar didn’t seem to radiate ego and ambition, at least not what I picked up from our brief meeting.
If anything, he felt like a shadow, a warrior playing spy, watching and waiting.
That’s not someone who holds a kingdom like a prize .
. . more of a soldier carrying a burden.
But the ultimate tell was my inkling. It sensed his soul—recognized it as friend. And if there’s one thing I trusted above all else, it was my gut.
“Rumors are cheap. I don’t believe it for a second,” I stated.
“When I first saw him, my inkling flared like it recognized something. A soul connection. I felt it—that unexplainable trust. Like I knew him.” I shrugged, surprised by how wild my own words sounded.
“Guess that’s why I didn’t immediately try to fight him off when he camouflaged me with his magic cape. ”
Wyatt’s mouth parted slightly but remained silent. David may or may not have been dissociating.
“He said he was using a Bondi Stone to search for something. And that finding me changed things.” I hesitated.
“But he seemed cryptically happy about it. Like annoyingly calm—and smirky.” My fingers toyed with the hem of my sleeve on my bicep.
“Then he basically told me I needed to own who I was. Be a badass, or whatever.” A short, huffy laugh escaped me as I exhaled.
A physical response from my body wondering why I wasn’t being reamed out yet.
“The encounter was weird. Cute, but weird.”
A pause settled around. David and Wyatt were statues, still processing the information.
“Oh—” My hands shot up. Verbal diarrhea locked and loaded.
“And I kind of touched the Bondi Stone and had a vision. I think it was trying to point me in the direction of the black box—you know, the relic from my dreams. I believe it’s in Eostre Land.
” Breath. “Which is why I magically chained and tortured Lochlainn into nominating me for the Trials . . .” I blinked.
“But that was after I broke his lock magic. I was a little pissed.”
The silence was loud. Too loud.
I don’t think David or Wyatt had blinked yet. A bee buzzed around David’s head, twice. He didn’t even flinch.
Wyatt slowly covered his mouth with a hand. Either to hold back very select words, or to hide a smile.
Then, David lulled his head back, gazing up at the overcast sky. His eyes closed as he took a deep, dramatic breath in.
Welp . . . that’s always a good sign.
Wyatt’s hand dropped, turning toward David with a grin.
“Aren’t daughters wonderful?” he said.
A high-pitched yelp snapped my attention to the side.
Huck was rubbing his backside, having just been rudely awakened.
He’d curled into a bed of flowers for a nap, only to be stabbed in the butt by Honey, who wielded a small dagger with far too much glee.
Clearly, Honey didn’t want him to miss the showdown.
Meanwhile, Pudge sat like an eager child at story time—eyes wide, waiting for the next chapter of chaos to unfold.
“I just—” David hesitantly began, then stopped.
“I just need a moment.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“So,” he said, cautiously. “You have a soul connection to the Shield King—who’s doing covert work in Luckland, apparently.
You had a vision that pointed to Eostre Land, so you threw yourself into their twisted, perverse games as a cover to snoop around for a black box—which we aren’t even positive exists.
And in the process, you committed an enormous crime against the most powerful thug in Luckland. ”
Leveling his head, he looked at me.
“Did I get that all right?” he deadpanned.
I glanced toward the nearest Cherub, briefly wondering what kind of threat it would take for them to rift me out of here.
I sighed and bit the bullet.
“Yep. Sounds about right . . .”
“All right.” David exhaled. “I’ll sort out the Shield King information later.” His eyes went laser focused. “But for now—how exactly did you break Lochlainn’s magic? And what do you mean you chained him?”
Some of the tightness loosened, sensing David wasn’t going to spontaneously combust. In fact, he seemed to be collecting himself. Impressive, honestly. I’d noticed it lately. He was getting better at that—was really trying.
“Okay, do note that I was planning on telling you . . . eventually,” I started, already rambling. “It’s been kind of a shock and I’m still processing that it even exists.”
David shifted, body going tight as a bowstring.
“I—I have a second ability,” I said, sheepishly.
David’s brows jumped up, a full facelift. Wyatt’s followed shortly after.
“It first appeared the night of the Dullahan attack.” My fingers interlaced, knuckles cracking. “It’s probably easier if I just show you. It’s happened three times now. Usually when I’m panicked or on edge.”
Wyatt looked over his shoulder, face scrunching as if gnawing on a thought. Then he turned back, walking to the pile of daggers and swords that littered the ground like silver sprinkles.
He picked one up, slicing it through the air in smooth, fluid arcs.
“On edge, huh?” he said, slashing the blade in a lazy X. “Let’s put that defensive ability to the test then.” His mouth curled into an amused smile.
David’s eyes didn’t leave me, he just extended a hand toward Wyatt.
“Allow me,” he said. The tone of it had the skin on my forearms prickling.
It wasn’t a request. It felt more like a pointed statement. Or warning.
The moment the sword grazed David’s fingers, it sparked to life—red, molten, electric with the weight of static thickening the air around us.
Or maybe that was just my own unease spreading.
“Heads up!” Wyatt called, launching another sword through the air. It speared the ground at my feet, tip-down and wobbled in place.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
My neck cracked as I stretched it from side to side, then rolled my shoulders loose.
With dramatic confidence I did not feel, I gripped the cold steel and yanked it from the dirt.
I closed my eyes and took in a breath that was so deep it scraped the bottom of my soul.
Ground yourself, Pogue had said, hammering it into my skull.
So I did. I mentally reached, touching the world around me.
The souls in front of me, familiar heartbeats.
And the ones farther off, more animalistic, wild.
But that was my Soulsayer ability. Not the one I needed.
The Floramancy still felt foreign, like I’d grown a third arm with zero coordination.
I hadn’t quite figured out how to summon it on command. Something to work on—starting now.
Wings flapped as the Cherubs shuffled closer. Honey looked oddly determined, fingers wiggling. They faintly glowed at the tips.
Oh, good. The paramedics were on standby.
My body was already sore from the last grueling hour of training. Fucking hell.
I whirled the sword once to warm up my wrist.
“Go easy on me, old man,” I called out, taunting.
“I’ll go as easy on you as you are on my blood pressure.” David shot a devious smile, then spun, blade lifting in one fluid motion.
My own reflexes surprised me. I brought my sword up just in time. Steel clashed, sparks dancing between us like tiny fireworks.
Damn. Ouch.
The vibration from the hit sent a sting straight up my arms. It was way more painful than I’d expected.
I mustered every ounce of strength in my body, pushing forward—like trying to move a boulder. With a strained growl, I forced his blade away in a wide, desperate swipe.
Then—SLASH!
I jumped back in the knick of time, narrowly avoiding the tip slicing across my abdomen.
In no world would I ever believe David would hurt me. But this—this was every ounce of his pent-up, internalized rage coming out to play. He wouldn’t harm me, no, but he’d sure as hell make me earn every swing.
My pulse quickened, beating like a war drum, waking something deep inside. The dark creature shifted. Maybe it was a part of my Soulsayer ability. Or maybe . . . it was just part of me.
Wyatt watched from the sidelines, his eyes instantly going wide.
I lunged forward, sword arcing high above my head, ready to bring it down with a force. My skin pebbled. Energy blazed through me like static before a lightning strike. For a breathless moment, I saw something reflected in David’s eyes. Not me, but a phantom.
And then—Clang!
His sword shot up, meeting mine. His face froze. Shock, maybe even horror.
What?
That’s when I saw it. Wisps of shadow and light curled over my arms, swirling across my skin. Just like the day at Lochlainn’s, when I saw her, that haunting soul in the mirror. A glimpse of me.
“Bleeding hearts . . .” Wyatt’s voice landed as a quiet prayer.
Our blades were still locked, muscles straining. Neither of us gave an inch.
And then, something else stirred. A different energy tingled up my body, coiling through my forearms, buzzing to my fingertips.
Brown vines burst from my hand, spiraling up David’s blade.
They wrapped tightly. Constricting. Lush green leaves sprouted along the twisted stems, and near the base of his sword, a single bud unfurled.
It blossomed wide, deep pink petals with dagger tips.
A white, strand-like center gleamed at its heart. King Protea.
And then, the flower withdrew, petals curling in on themselves as rot spread. Like ink through water, the vines blackened.
David’s blade creaked under pressure, stressing, splintering.
Without warning, the sword and flower crumbled into complete ash. Blown to the breeze.
David stared at the ghost of where his sword had been. His face rose, locking with mine.
There was something behind those Robin’s-egg blue eyes. Not fear, not even surprise. It was a form of joy, of love, almost near pride.
“Floramancy,” David said, eyes glittering as if he were calling a name at graduation.
A beat of silence ate up the space between us.
Then, giggles and clapping erupted as the Cherubs broke into gleeful cheer. Huck even brought the pompoms.
Wyatt’s hearty chuckle followed, loud and bright. There was an audible inhale of surprise as he beamed at me.
Wait—what? Well this was unexpected.
I couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from me as I dropped the sword to the ground. Less in amusement as it was in relief.
A heavy hand landed on my shoulder. David leaned in, a shadow of a grin dancing at his mouth. “That’s a rare gift, Carwynn. Ancient, even,” he said. “Only ever spoken in legends.”
My cheeks pulled up, something beyond a smile.
I’d only ever felt anxiety and dread around my abilities.
But today I was surrounded by something else entirely.
Love. Unconditional, grounding, unshakeable love.
And for the first time, I felt a flicker of pride in myself too.
I’d done it. I was the one to will it, to take control of it, to finally embrace it.
Their love curled around me like a gentle hand, lulling that dark part of me back to sleep. A strange, new confidence took hold in me, knowing that next time, I’d be able to wake it up on my own.
My entire life, I’d longed for the feeling of being safe, protected behind trusted arms. But it hadn’t dawned on me until now—that maybe the trust and security I really needed, was from myself.