Chapter 6 #2
I felt each drop strike my skin. I felt it washing away my pain and anger, felt it soothing me.
I felt it also upon the others. I knew how the water slid over them, over dancers, over lords and ladies, how their silks drank it in, how their fine hair fell to ruin.
The whole crowd, the whole garden, lay within my reach.
And then I saw him.
Dricus stood apart. He watched me. In his green eyes there was a glimmer of wonder, no scorn, no mockery, only keen interest.
I closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, I fixed my will upon him. I felt the drops trace his face, gather at his cheekbones, run down his neck, over his body.
My heart quickened. It was too intimate, too bare. I broke it off at once, ashamed of my own thoughts.
I turned on my heel and made for the chambers. I had had enough excitement for one night.
At first light I went to the training room. I needed to vent the previous night somehow, the memory of Magnus Dorthal’s rough hands still lingering on my skin.
I was alone, without Kael and Brenn. The hush of the room was like a balm to my frayed thoughts.
I chose knives. Plain, swift, demanding perfect heed. Throw after throw unknotted my limbs, let my anger flow into iron biting wood.
Before swinging again, the door creaked open. Dricus entered. He moved in a slow arc, like a hunting cat testing the ground. He moved fluidly despite his muscular build.
“I heard you furnished young Dorthal with a new nose,” he said.
I covered my face with my hand. The heat of shame washed over me.
“You heard already? It has not been half a day.”
“In White City, gossip runs faster than water.” He took a step nearer. “Speaking of which…” His eyes went through me. “When will you cease hiding?”
I hesitated for a heartbeat, my arm stopping in midair. Finally, I threw it, and the steel struck the heart of the target.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Dricus went to the table, took another knife, and threw it. The blade sank beside mine with such force the wood shuddered. My body tensed.
“Enough of pretenses, little siren,” he said, his voice lowered. “When did your power show itself?”
My shoulders sagged. I weighed the decisions in my head. How long could I hide?
Dricus stepped closer. He loomed over me, close enough that I felt the heat of him before I lifted my head. When our gazes met, his green eyes were piercing into m.
He leaned in and whispered to my ear, “I felt you yesterday. When the rain fell.”
My breath stilled.
“When?” he asked again.
I had no strength left for masks, not with Dricus, who bore power himself.
“Four years past. Upon my seventeenth birthday.”
He stepped back, as if satisfied that he got his answer.
“Your Family must be pleased.”
I gave a short, bitter breath.
“I cannot say. More worried than proud, perhaps. It came in the same year as my brother Alaric’s illness.
” Speaking of his name made my voice shake.
“Slowly it set upon his body. His strength waned, as if life fled him by inches. Once he ran the halls of Thalrock at my side, now each step is a struggle against an unseen foe. His legs betray him, his muscles fail. Proud, fearless Alaric sits more often by the fireplace than joins me at the yard. His mind remains sharp, but his body is a prison.”
“I am sorry,” Dricus said softly. “I know what it’s like to lose one dear.”
“Your parents?”
“It is a hard tale.” He looked aside. “They died when I was a child. That was when my power first broke through.”
“Who taught you to master it?”
“No one.” He met my eyes, sharp as flint. “I taught myself. Inborn power is not the same as what comes of Elementars. It will not be bridled so easily. What we carry within is… untamed. Dark.”
Dark. The word struck harder than I wished. I had never named my gift so. Strong, yes, but not dark.
Before I could frame an answer, the question that had long pressed at my tongue slipped out.
“You do not touch the flame, do you?” I frowned. “I have never seen you go near so much as a candle.”
He smiled faintly, but no amusement lit his eyes.
“Fire is no plaything, Nerissa. It does not uphold life as your water does, does not feed the earth, does not bear ships upon its back. Fire devours. It takes all you give it, and more besides.” He stepped closer. “And I know that if I give it too much, it will never release me.”
When he stood beside me, I again noted the fine lines at his eyes. He was no heedless youth like the other heirs in the palace, but a man who had seen more than was his due.
I listened, and the hair at my nape stirred. No one had ever spoken of the power like that. No one had ever sounded as though he truly feared his own.
“And how did you manage to control your power?” he asked.
“My mother helped me a little.” I drew a deeper breath. “Her gift is very gentle, like a thin thread that binds her to the world. She taught me to rule myself, to bridle my temper. Yet there were mishaps.”
“Your mother bears power?” He raised a brow. “Interesting.”
“She is… a strange one. She has visions at times. She speaks of a darkness that draws near. Father says I must not heed her. He says she has a flair for the dramatic.”
“Perhaps she is not wrong.” Dricus’s voice hardened. “From what I have heard and seen of late…”
He broke off and studied me. “In any case, I will not hinder you.”
He moved toward the door, then looked back.
“You don’t need to be ashamed of your gift. Wield it as your advantage. The stories of you are already spreading, after last night’s ball it is unlikely they will grow worse.”
He smiled broadly, and the smile sent my gaze to the floor. I would not have him see that he had stirred something in me.
And then he was gone.