Chapter 18
My power stutters and blinks out of sight.
No!
I try to call it back, desperate to hold the stunning light in my hands. But my magic has retreated deep into my chest, refusing to return to the surface.
I whirl around, and my body seizes as I take in Rian’s menacing expression.
Even though my power is gone, he glares at my palm as if he can still see the bright light. But whereas I was awed by the manifestation of my magic, he looks infuriated.
The lanterns in the tent flicker. Shadows in the corner of the tent creep up the fabric, blocking out the soft glow of sunlight that seeps into the space.
“What”—he steps inside. A smoky tendril flows from his arm and coils around the knots holding the tent flap open. The fabric falls, and my stomach plummets along with it—“did you just do?”
Shit.
Reality hits me.
“P-please.” I hold up shaking hands. “Please, have mercy.”
He stops in the middle of the tent, still feet away, his features twisted in a scowl. “What?”
I lick my dry lips and swallow. “I-I didn’t do anything to Darius. I swear.”
Calculation enters his glare. “What was that?”
I could lie. But what’s the point? Rian is no fool.
He and I both know he’s aware of what he saw.
My only hope now is to control the conversation, to find a way to convince the powerful Fae that I’m not a threat.
That he and his brethren shouldn’t end my life simply because of what runs through my veins.
My voice trembling, I manage to say, “It was my magic.”
The shadows convulse, stretching longer, darker, as if hungering for the truth. “Explain.”
Pinned beneath his glower and the walls of darkness blocking my escape, I have no choice but to comply.
The words spill out shakily as I confess that my magic is responsible for my reputation as an exceptional healer.
How a single touch lets the power in my blood taste a sickness, trace a fracture, and clear away infection.
I admit that I’ve hidden this ability from everyone in Verdanthia. No one knows how I do what I do. I make it clear they would kill me if they did.
“What about Ferria?”
My heart stops. “What about her?”
He tilts his head to the side like a hawk watching a mouse. “Does she know of your power?”
“Yes. And so does my adoptive mother.” I bite my cheek and pray to the Gods that he won’t punish them for my sins.
Your magic is a gift. Not a sin…
“And her power?” he asks without pause.
Dread thickens my throat. “What?”
His eyes sharpen. “Ferria’s power. Can she wield it like you?”
My chest tightens. “Who says she has power?”
He lifts a brow, the gesture deceptively casual, but I press my lips together. I won’t hand my sister’s secret to him. Not when I have no measure of what he will do with mine.
The air grows heavy. His shadows writhe at the edges of the tent like serpents uncoiling, preparing to attack. I brace for the strike, every instinct screaming to guard my sister’s power with my life.
His voice slashes through the tension. “How long have you had this ability?”
The shift jolts me, but I seize it like a drowning soul clutching driftwood in a stormy sea.
My throat is dry, but I force the words out. “Since I was ten. But I’ve never wielded it outside my body…not until a few days ago.”
Something shifts in his gaze. “When the beasts attacked?”
I nod.
“Hm.” Shadows slither at his feet, drawing near me.
I lock my knees, fighting the urge to retreat.
“That is why you were in pain after you touched Darius.”
My gaze jerks up from the writhing shadows. “Excuse me?”
“Your power.” Rian’s eyes flick to my hands. “Touching Darius wounded your magic…didn’t it?”
Chewing my bottom lip, I nod again.
Rian’s eyes zero in on my mouth. His nostrils flare. “Have you touched Darius’s skin again?”
“No.”
“Hmm.” Shadows flicker over his face, masking his reaction. “Interesting.”
“Please,” I beg once more. “I know Fae forbid humans from possessing magic, but I swear I only use it for good.”
“Are you telling me you don’t heal mortal men?”
“I…do?”
“And do you know, for certain, that none of those men are allied with the rebellion that seeks to overthrow the king?” His eyes flash silver, cold and searing all at once.
My heart stutters. “I-I’ve already told you…no one in Verdanthia is part of the rebellion.”
“Wrong, Elara.” My name rolls from his lips.
A shiver races down my spine.
The pull I felt in the tavern surges back, hot and unbidden, roaring through my chest. I smother the embers before they catch and send my whole body ablaze.
“So I’m to be punished,” I manage, heat crawling up my cheeks as my treacherous gaze snags on the gap in his tunic and the strong column of golden skin revealed there, “for helping men who later betray the Fae?”
“Who said anything about punishing you?”
“You did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well, it was implied,” I snap, flinging a hand toward him in exasperation. “Otherwise, why would you be so…”—I falter, gesturing at the swirling darkness cloaking him—“shadowy?”
The air stills. His shadows freeze, suspended mid-coil. Then his head tilts back, and he laughs. Deep. Unrestrained.
And Gods save me, his laughter is the most musical, sensual sound I’ve heard all my life.
The flickering lantern on the end table showcases his sculpted profile as he continues to belt out his amusement.
“What’s so funny?” I demand, folding my arms tight across my chest, as though that can shield me from the traitorous pounding of my own heart.
My attraction to this male has to stop. He’s Fae. He could kill me in the blink of an eye. He is not a romantic prospect. Besides…I have Lev.
“You.” Rian lowers his head, and the grin tugging his lips makes my stomach clench. “For someone who is so intelligent, you are so quick to make incorrect assumptions.”
Was that a compliment? Followed by an insult?
“And what assumption would that be?” I challenge.
His smile falls. “What makes you believe I would punish the woman who is keenly motivated to help one of my closest friends?”
Friends?
I gaze at Darius. That’s the first time one of the Fae has used the term to describe their unconscious companion.
“But you can’t help Darius with your magic.”
My head snaps back to Rian. “What? Why?”
His eyes sharpen, cutting straight into mine as though peeling back layers of skin and bone to peer into my soul.
“If your magic is what I suspect, it’s too volatile to use on Darius.
You need training on Fae minds, our bodies, and the way your power would thread through us.
Otherwise, it’ll destroy more than it heals. ”
My throat tightens. Against my will, my gaze flickers to the leather-bound book lying on the plush carpet. I drag my eyes away immediately, but too late—Rian’s smoky gaze is already fixed where mine lingered.
Shit.
A shadow unravels from his side. It plucks the book from the floor and carries it to his waiting hand.
He turns it over. “And what is this?”
Panic slams into me. “A book.”
One dark brow arches. “Yes, I can see that.”
He studies the cover, his thumb brushing over the leather.
“It’s a very specific book,” he murmurs, eyes narrowing. “One that once lived in the royal library according to this emblem.”
He taps the sigil of curved lines and spirals embossed into the spine.
This book belonged to the king?
Gods curse me.
Rian’s gaze cuts to mine. “Where did you get this?”
I take a step back, wary of the shadows once again swirling near my feet.
“For Mother’s sake.” He exhales hard, eyes lifting to the tent’s peak as if summoning patience from the heavens. “Will you stop? I’m not going to hurt you.”
I still. “You…you aren’t?”
“No.” He huffs, dropping his irritated gaze back to me. And for some strange reason, I believe him. “Now, tell me, where did you get this book?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? Wait…” His eyes narrow, then he shakes his head. “Never mind. Don’t tell me.”
My eyes widen. “Truly?”
“Truly.” He lowers the book slowly, eyeing me like I’m something dangerous—or perhaps special. “You are full of surprises, Elara Stonebloom.”
Heat crawls up my neck once more.
“And The Mother smiles on you, because this is exactly the text you need to learn how to control your magic.”
Gods save me, I really need to go to the temple and give them my thanks.
“And I will help you,” he declares, a strange edge to his voice.
I blink. “You will?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Rian’s gaze lingers, sharp and assessing, like I’m a puzzle he didn’t expect to be so stubbornly intricate but am all the more satisfying for it.
“Because you use your magic for good,” he says slowly, each word deliberate. “And by mastering it, you may be able to do more than just ensure Darius is comfortable.”
He gazes down at his friend. “I believe you may be able to heal him.”
Emotion tightens my chest. “That’s my hope, too.”
It’s true. Day after day, watching Darius lie there, trapped in his own mind, forced to endure whatever nightmare—or dream—his subconscious drags him through. It’s a fate I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Fae or not.
“I believe you.” He rolls back his shoulders.
Shadows recede from the tent, rolling down the fabric, across the floor, and seeping into his skin.
Gods, that’s unnerving…
Rian pushes through the tent flap and steps into the clearing without another word.
I hurry to follow after him, blinking against the brightness assaulting my eyes. In the distance, Ferria and Jaxon spar. She must’ve grown bored waiting for me. Before I can take a step in their direction, something thuds against the packed earth near my feet.
I jump back.
Draven saunters past without a backward glance. “Those are for you.”
I blink at the polished leather. “Boots?”
“I assume you know they go on your feet,” he calls over his shoulder.
I scoop them up and rush after him. “Why would you give me boots?”
“I’m tired of wasting my time, watching you struggle to keep your feet when we spar. With any luck, boots will help. Though I’m not holding my breath.” There’s an edge to his tone that’s meant to be belittling, but it can’t overshadow the thoughtfulness of this gesture.