Chapter 30
Ivor conceded his place as my tutor to Enhart without protest, and stood now in the prince’s former place across the lake. Agnes, ever the loyal deputy, watched from his side with her arms crossed.
“Don’t stand like that,” Enhart instructed me.
“I highly doubt that the Ealdorfyre cares how I stand,” I replied.
“You’re so stiff. It looks like you’re about to keel over and reveal that you mistakenly turned yourself to stone,” he shot back.
My fingers curled into fists as he circled me like a hawk, coming to a halt behind me. “I can see the tension you’re holding in your shoulders. Release it.”
“I can’t focus with you lurking,” I snapped.
“Don’t be obstinate.”
“Do you really want me to summon the Ealdorfyre when I’m irritated with you?”
“You’re the one who wanted me here. Remember?”
I groaned in response.
“And to answer your question, no,” he said evenly. “Instead I want you to do the opposite of what you did the last time you summoned it.”
“Meaning?”
“Humor me, witch. We’re trying a new approach. Now, relax your shoulders.”
I bit back a retort and did as I was told. A flurry of power rippled up my spine as my shoulders dropped, my blood vessels no longer constricted.
“Don’t you hate it when I’m right?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied without missing a beat.
He backed away, watching me from a short distance. “Continue to deepen your breath, only this time, turn your thoughts to the Ealdorfyre. Don’t be afraid.”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Do you remember Ivor’s story?” came the prince’s voice.
“Yes.”
“Then you’ll recall that Celene was gifted her magic in a moment of desperation.
The flame, however, she summoned from a place of empathy.
She conjured it in order to help people, and it was entirely her own.
I want you to think of the Ealdorfyre as something entirely your own. Find your peace and call to it.”
Peace. It wasn’t entirely foreign to me despite the bitter twists and turns of my life so far.
I had experienced peace before in the library at Valnar Castle.
Sitting at Adele’s dinner table. Nestled in Mordric’s arms. I clung to that final image.
Nothing could touch me as I rested against his muscled chest. I was safe there.
My fingers twitched as warmth began to rise to the surface of my skin.
“Good,” came Enhart’s voice. “Lean into that feeling.”
This kind of heat was different from the sunlight that scorched the land from above, or the heat that wafted off of an open flame.
It was somehow both painful and pleasant, a puzzling contradiction that pooled beneath my skin as my thoughts turned to Mordric.
The euphoria that had burned within me when he first kissed me.
The surprise when he told me he loved me …
and I’d said nothing in return. The heat sputtered out.
That was not a memory I wanted to hold on to in this moment.
I shook my head to dislodge that particular memory from my mind, but found I could focus on little else. My confidence withered and curled inwards like a wounded animal. This was impossible.
“Perhaps a walk will help you clear your head,” said Enhart after some time.
I blinked my eyes open. “Where exactly am I supposed to walk? Into the water?”
He shrugged. “You do love a dip in a lake, as I recall. Perhaps it would help.”
“Gods above,” I muttered darkly. I stalked toward the other end of the isle, flexing my hands. My boots squelched through the mud as I scolded myself silently. Why couldn’t I just draw on my peaceful memories without stumbling into something unpleasant? I had felt peace with Mordric. I had.
I drew in a breath, turning and drifting back toward the prince.
“Better?” he asked.
I shrugged.
“Focus,” he reminded me.
“Okay, okay,” I replied.
I reached for another memory. This time, it was something simple.
Mundane even. I was safe again, tucked into Mordric’s chest as his hand cupped my cheek.
His other curled around my shoulders, drawing me close to him.
The curtains fluttered as a breeze spilled through the cracked window, causing my skin to pebble.
My chest rose and fell in a contented sigh.
The heat rose again, bubbling merrily beneath my skin.
I inhaled the scent of petrichor. “Don’t do this,” he had said.
Wait, was that right?
My eyes flew open, but fear didn’t even have the chance to sink its claws into me before a groan sounded from beneath our feet.
The ground heaved as if the earth itself had belched, sending me stumbling back several steps.
A crack formed in the soil. Transfixed, I stared into the earth as its flesh was laid bare before me.
As I held my breath, a stream of cobalt flame wafted out of the fissure. It writhed in midair inches from my nose like a serpent.
In the ensuing silence, I could have sworn that I heard the quiet thrum of a heartbeat from the being that floated before me.
A being. That was the best way to describe it.
A creature risen from Ferinor’s immortal realm.
It held memories. Wisdom, maybe. And it recognized me as if we were old friends.
My skin sizzled as the flame coiled tenderly around my trembling fingers.
Perhaps not. Perhaps we had tolerated each other, though, in another life.
The ground heaved again, the flame slipping through my fingers, returning whence it came. The earth knitted itself together and the fissure faded, leaving only an ashy scar in the soil.
“Fuck,” came a voice. My head snapped up. I’d nearly forgotten that Enhart was here. “You did it,” he said, beaming at me.
His grin faded as I swayed. “Are you alright?” he asked, snapping forward to grasp me firmly by the shoulders.
I sucked in a breath as our stares connected. It was his voice. The memory that I had called upon. The feeling so powerful that it had summoned the Ealdorfyre from the depths of the underworld itself, was of him.
This vampire who had made his disdain for me plain the moment we met. This spoiled princeling who thought that I was beneath him. This man who— I lifted a hand absentmindedly to my lips, remembering the taste of the blood that saved my life.
His brow was creased with concern. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” I said finally. “But I think that’s enough for today.”
He grinned. “Whatever you want, Flamebearer.”
“To Finn,” said Agnes, raising a goblet of elderberry wine. The violet liquid shimmered in the flickering candlelight.
We sat in the university’s dining room with Enhart and Ivor, their voices echoing across the chamber.
The stained-glass portraits of the founders watched over us.
For the first time in days, my skin wasn’t smoldering from the heat of the Ealdorfyre.
It was as if the pressure had been building inside me ever since I’d first conjured it, and I’d finally found release.
I supposed Enhart’s point about my so-called gift stood. I’d have to thank him someday.
“Hear, hear,” said Enhart, his eyes twinkling.
“This is quite an accomplishment, indeed,” Ivor chimed in.
I flushed, bowing my head. I should celebrate. I knew that. I had traveled halfway across Valen for this exact purpose. Although I hadn’t mastered the Ealdorfyre by any means, my efforts today were a marked improvement. I chewed on a stuffed tomato, its juices bitter on my tongue.
“I’ve written to His Majesty,” Agnes informed us. “I’m sure he will be most pleased to hear of your progress.”
“Of course there’s still some work to do,” said Ivor. “The solstice is a little over a month away, so Finn needs to focus now on honing her power.”
I repressed a groan with great effort. It was still the month of Elios, which meant at least another fortnight here at Hollybrook.
Training with Enhart every day. Hundreds of miles from Mordric.
My stomach churned. What I’d felt the moment before I summoned the Ealdorfyre had been only the briefest whisper.
Imperceptible, almost. I tried to convince myself it was nothing more than the fondness one might feel for a close friend, but I feared that would become harder to believe with each passing day.
“Let her celebrate, won’t you?” said Enhart, winking at me. The wine had stained his lips a faint shade of amaranthine. I flashed a tight-lipped smile, my fingers clenching the stem of my goblet.
When the carafes were empty and the plates clean, Enhart and I walked in silence to our quarters. I kept to my side of the corridor, practically rubbing my sleeve against the cold stone wall. He glanced at me sideways. “Are you alright?”
I nodded. “Just tired.”
“You deserve a good night’s rest. I can’t imagine that was easy on you.”
We entered our suite, Enhart hovering in the space between our doors. “I wanted to say that I’m proud of you.”
My fingers curled into fists. If he knew what I had been thinking when I summoned the Ealdorfyre, he’d be appalled.
Repulsed, maybe. Thankfully, he didn’t press me any further.
Instead, he offered me an awkward pat on the shoulder before retreating to his bedchamber.
“Sleep well,” he said before closing the door.
I ducked into my own bedchamber, throwing myself onto the mattress. I stuffed my face into a pillow to stop from screaming. You have to stop drinking around vampires, I chided myself.
I tossed and turned in bed for hours, an ache pounding between my temples. The dormitory was quiet save for the pitter-patter of some small creature scurrying down the hallway, and outside my window, a violet dawn had begun to creep across the sky.
Restless, I rose in search of fresh air. The telltale whispers buzzed in my ears as I padded down the corridor, my footsteps muffled by thick woolen socks. This time, though, the din that had haunted me for so many days was pleasant, as enticing as a siren’s call.
I paused as I stepped out into the cold morning air.
The whispers came from the forest. Perhaps it was worth investigating.
Squaring my shoulders, I marched toward the gnarled copse of trees.
As I grew close to the tallest one, my fingers twitched.
As if my body knew something that I did not.
Before I could think twice, I placed a hand upon the gnarled bark of its trunk.
And I was swallowed by the dark.