Eighteen
CHAPTER
THUD.
All the air in my lungs was forcefully taken from me. Again. I panted, staring up at the sun beaming down on me.
“Again.” Zathrian leaned over, casting a shadow over my face. He offered me a hand to pull me back up.
“I can’t do it,” I muttered, out of breath.
A bead of sweat dripped down my forehead as I lay against the sparring mat beneath me.
The past hour and a half had consisted of Zathrian trying to help me find balance within myself.
For the past week, first thing every morning, we hit the training mats to help me learn control.
It felt more like him kicking my ass over and over again than it did anything else.
I really, really, really wanted to wipe that stupid smug look off his face.
“Yes, you can. Come on. Again.” He grabbed me by my wrist, yanking me back up onto my own two feet before I could continue my protests.
My legs were wobbly. Squishy. My arms were cooked noodles. All I wanted to do was lounge around the rest of the day, but Zathrian insisted I kept up with my ‘training’. Consistency is key, is what he kept telling me. I wasn’t convinced.
He was right. Not that I would feed that ego of his. His head was big enough already.
“I said I can’t do it,” I retorted.
“Yes, you can. Focus.” Zathrian poked at my side.
“I—”
“You can. Embrace the darkness within you, and let it guide you toward the light.” In a single motion, he reached for my wrist, twisting my arm in an attempt to immobilize me again.
This time, I bucked my head backward, slamming it into the bridge of his nose.
He let go and took a step back. Lifting my hands, I manifested a shadowy tendril, shooting it in his direction.
He dodged it in the nick of time. Asshole.
At least I was actually able to manifest my magic instead of standing there frozen by fear. Baby steps.
“I DID IT?!” I chirped excitedly, perhaps a bit too excitedly, as I bounced up and down.
Zathrian put his hand to his face, rubbing at his presumably aching and now bleeding nose.
“I told you that you could do it, but you didn’t want to listen to little ol’ me,” he teased, smiling down at me.
“Shut up.” Realizing that I made his nose bleed, my eyes widened. I reached forward, gently pulling him closer by the open collar of his shirt to get a better look. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, luckily, you’re an airhead so it didn’t hurt too bad. I have endured far worse.”
I pushed him away when he said that.
“I’m not an airhead.” I pouted.
“Yes, you are.” He snickered.
“I am not.” I huffed, crossing my arms.
“You know you’re still pretty when you pout,” he purred.
I glared at him. Don’t you dare say such sweet words you don’t mean.
Silence loomed between us for a few moments. I caved in, rolling my eyes. Pivoting my left heel beneath me, I attempted to swing in his direction with another shadowy tendril. I was quick, but he was quicker, as always. He had decades of experience, whereas I only had days.
He sent me flying straight onto my back again. My breath hitched as his hand found its way to my throat, his fingers gently squeezing, his face inches from mine.
“You’re getting better. Still predictable, but better. I am still in control, though,” he whispered. His other hand remained beside my head, but his body pressed against mine, pinning me beneath him.
My arms rested at either side of my head.
Clenching my jaw, my eyes locked on his, feeling the warmth of his breath against my skin.
Now that I was so close, I found myself studying his features.
The sharpness of his jawline and the constellations I could create with his freckles. How dare he be as beautiful as he was.
“Why so quiet? Did I take your breath away, Airhead?” he asked with a coy smile.
I pulled my knee up to my chest, slamming it right into his groin.
He let out a pained groan, rolling off me and reaching between his legs. “That was such a low blow,” he squeaked.
“It was deserved.” I slowly sat up, snickering at him.
He was such a baby. I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. “Please, you’re fine. I didn’t knee you that hard,” I said, laughing.
“Not this time, but it still hurt. Absolutely uncalled for.” Slowly, he sat up.
Not this time.
I stared at him for a moment, turning my head to look up at the sky and the clouds above. I remembered the memory he was talking about. I wished I didn’t, but I did.
The first time I tried to escape because I was sick of peeling potatoes for hours on end.
I was kicking and screaming when his guards attempted to drag me away from the stone walls that surrounded the Castle.
I fought them with everything I had, and when the Prince was bored of my futile attempt, he himself tried to force me to bend the knee and obey him.
I did, in the end, but not until I kneed him so hard in the groin that he fell over crying.
Not just in front of me, or his guards, but Gelia, too.
I was shocked he actually remembered, but then again, I wasn’t all too sure which memories were with him, and which were with, well, the real Prince.
Zathrian was right, I didn’t knee him as hard as I did that day. Maybe because I didn’t hate him in the way that I used to.
Things were so much different now.
His nose was still bleeding a little from earlier. A steady stream of red dripped down his philtrum and over his lips.
Gods above, I couldn’t believe I was about to do this.
“Let me see your face,” I said, not giving him much of a choice.
Grabbing him, my left hand went to the collar of his shirt while my right hand hovered over his nose, pulling him closer to me.
I didn’t know if it would work, but it was worth a try.
I read books about it from Zathrian’s personal library.
It was all speculation, regarding people like me.
Oddities that came into this Realm unlike the rest. Beings who could do things others couldn’t.
All stories, of course. I couldn’t help but be curious.
I read what I could, given half the pages were torn out.
I wanted to test if maybe I could do it, too, since I was an oddity.
Closing my eyes, I tried my best to focus.
Breathe.
“What are you doing?” A white cloudy glow appeared from the palms of my hands. I wasn’t all that sure it would work, but it did.
“Shh,” I whispered.
He went silent.
Zathrian’s nose was healed within moments. I was taken aback that I was actually able to do it, let alone on the first try. I didn’t even know how I managed to do it. I just did, somehow.
Our eyes locked, and the gears turned in my head, coming up with a bright idea. One that I would rather enjoy, actually. Perhaps a little too much.
“Did you just… fix my nose?” he asked, briefly rubbing it, equally as surprised as I was.
“Aerilyn, why are you staring at me like that? What are you thinking right now?” Zathrian lifted that same hand to wave in front of my face before his arm fell back to his side and when it did, I chose to strike.
WACK. CRUNCH.
“OW! WHAT IN THE FOUR REALMS—” he screeched, a sound equivalent to nails scraping on a chalkboard. His nose gushed blood when my fist met his face. I shook my hand, pulling away as my knuckles stung.
“Trust me! I want to see if I can do it again.” I huffed.
“Was that really necessary?” he whined, trying to stop the flow of blood with his fingers.
“Yes, yes it was. Now shut up so I can concentrate. I can’t do it if I can’t focus, so stop distracting me,” I muttered.
Zathrian rolled his eyes. Complying with my wishes, he sat there, silently waiting for me to try again.
I took a deep breath, shifting so close to him that my knees were touching his. My hand hovered over his nose again. Eyes closed, I tried my best to focus.
Breathe.
Nothing happened.
Breathe.
Still, nothing.
Frustrated, I took an even deeper breath only for the same outcome as before. Nothing.
“Uhmm,” Zathrian mumbled.
“SHHHH!” Maybe I wasn’t close enough or focused enough.
Breathe.
Clearing my head of all thoughts, my hands hovered above Zathrian’s nose. Clenching my eyes shut, the energy shifted through my body and up my arms to my hands. A white aura emanated from my palms, and just as before, I healed him.
“You’re remarkable,” he whispered.
A line formed between my lips, my cheeks quickly flushing pink. I turned away from him.
“I am not.” I exhaled.
“You are. You have no idea how remarkable you truly are.” Lifting his hand, he carefully pushed a single curl away from my face, momentarily twirling my hair between his fingers.
His hand lingered, his thumb gently stroking down my flesh.
Hesitating, he pulled away. He seemed sincere, which was almost believable, and I absolutely hated when he was like that.
I hated that I almost believed him.
Pulling my knees to my chest, I didn’t say anything simply because there was nothing for me to say. Something drew me to him, and I wasn’t sure why. Whatever it was, Gods above, I wished it would go away.
I loathed him.
Mind, body, and soul.
“You are a lot stronger than you think you are,” Zathrian stated.
“So I have been told.” I sighed, not believing such words.
I have. By my mother, by Aradia, Acheron, Mateo, Neil, and now you, too.
Zathrian stood up, offering his hand to me. “Let’s go again.” He smirked.
I smirked, playfully taking his hand in mine with a tug. Zathrian helped me back up onto my feet.
I was absolutely going to punch him in the face again. Harder this time.