Chapter 21 #2
Childlike or not, I begin to practise my three breaths, drawing the air into my lungs slowly, holding it there, then releasing it.
Yet the throbbing continues in my hands; not the pain of the leeching poison now, but a crawling, insistent cold.
The urge to release what is building up inside of me is growing dangerously, and I need to do something before this modicum of control slips.
If I let my Issen powers out, it’ll end badly.
But what do I do?
My eyes fall on her two perfectly matched blades. Blades made by magic, meaning they have magic within, which can be drawn on. I might have failed to dissolve my previous creation into snowflakes, but there is something else I can do. A different form of magic.
Almost without thinking, I pull the power out of her ice swords and into me. The magic hits my system and the relief of using power – any power – is palpable.
Before Brida can even blink, the ice disappears from her hands.
Her eyes widen as she twists her empty hands over and back again. ‘What did you do?’
‘What do you mean? I assumed you just thought better of trying to fight me.’
The confusion on her face is almost comical, though it doesn’t last long.
‘Whatever you did,’ she snarls, ‘I swear—’
‘Brida? What are you doing here?’
The two of us jump back as Toren appears at the bottom of the staircase. ‘You’re not chaperoning tonight, are you?’
Her mouth opens slightly. ‘No. I … I … was just asking Rose how dinner went.’
The way Toren’s eyebrows lift in utter disbelief makes me like the Issen even more.
‘Right, well, you can go. I’ve got it from here.’
A muscle twitches along her jawline. ‘Of course. Good night, Rose.’ She twists back and looks at me with an unctuous smile. ‘It’s been lovely talking to you.’
I don’t even bother responding, and Toren and I stand in silence, watching as she strides down the corridor. Only once she is out of sight does he turn to me.
‘I take it that wasn’t a pleasant conversation?’
I press my lips together. ‘How close are you and Brida?’ I ask, trying to make the question sound casual. ‘Are you friends?’
Though I wouldn’t have thought it possible, his eyebrows rise even higher than before so that they are almost lost in his hairline. ‘Friends? You have spoken to her, right? She has a rod up her rear end so long that you could fish with it.’
I let out a laugh. ‘Well, at least I know it’s not just me.’
‘No, it’s not just you,’ he says gently. ‘But I’m sure you don’t want to spend your evening talking about her. You left dinner with Magnus early, so I take it you want to go somewhere?’
‘Yes, actually.’ I’m grateful that his question doesn’t pry. ‘I was hoping to find Prince Kyor. He left before I did. I suspect he’s training, but I’m not sure where. I don’t suppose you know where he is?’
‘Yeah. Astrid took him out. They’ve gone to the south-west battle yard.’
‘Great. Can you take me there now, please?’
When I turn into the battle yard, I spot a woman standing a fair way back – Astrid, presumably – watching Kyor as he moves barefoot on the ground, slicing the air with his sword in one direction and then the next. The metal sings in perfect harmony with the wind, which whistles with every strike.
‘I don’t know what’s more impressive,’ Astrid says when I draw level with her. ‘His skills earlier with the lightning or this.’
‘Oh, he has plenty of impressive skills,’ I say without thinking. She looks at me and offers a subtle smirk.
‘Lucky you then,’ she replies, only for her face to fall, her expression suddenly serious. ‘He said he didn’t want to be disturbed. By anyone. He was pretty angry earlier.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I reassure her. ‘I’ve no intention of speaking to him.’
What he needs is a fight. The only issue is I’m unarmed, bar my ever-present dagger, and this requires a sword.
I recall suddenly that Brida was unarmed when we were in the palace, and she called blades to her hands easily enough.
It’s spite as much as anything that forces me to focus.
Because if that bitch can do it, I can too.
Even though I’ve never even come close to creating a sword, I don’t let that deter me.
Letting the flood of magic throb in my fingers, I picture sharp blades.
That’s what I’m thinking of as I close my eyes. Sharp blades.
‘Get back!’ Toren slams his arm across my chest, knocking me to the ground.
As my eyes fly open, I see the reason. Sharp blades.
That’s one way of putting what I’ve created.
Hundreds of razor-sharp spears of ice shoot up from the ground, some at an angle that would have most certainly struck me had Toren not pushed me back.
‘I’m guessing you didn’t mean to do that?’ Astrid pants. The other Issen has leapt back a full six feet from where she was standing a moment ago.
‘No.’ Embarrassment floods my cheeks. ‘I’m sorry… I thought…’ So much for trying to comfort Kyor. Somehow, I don’t think finding me impaled by an ice spear of my own creation would make his mental state any better.
He doesn’t cease his movements, but without looking at me, he calls over, ‘Careful, Thorn.’
‘You’re the one who will have to be careful in a minute!’ I shoot back.
He grunts but continues to move, looking for all the world as if he’s utterly lost in his motions. Or at least the thoughts he’s trying to use the motions to forget.
But hasn’t forgotten. Not yet.
‘I was hoping to make a sword,’ I say as I turn back to the chaperones. ‘I saw Brida do something similar before.’
‘Brida created an ice weapon, did she?’ Toren scowls.
‘I can do that for you if you’d like?’ Astrid asks.
‘Thank you,’ I reply, choosing to ignore the dark frown on Toren’s face.
Astrid doesn’t just flick her wrists the way Brida did.
She first spends a good few seconds simply breathing, her hands sweeping up and down her body as she does so.
Only then do her wrists snap back, and a sword appears in her grip.
And what a sword it is. At least twenty inches in length, the crystal-clear blade is misted with ice at the hilt, making it almost opaque. There’s not an imperfection in sight.
It’s magnificent. It’s big. And it’s something I can actually fight with.
‘Figured you were a length and girth girl,’ she says with impressive seriousness, even if she can’t disguise the glint in her eyes.
‘I am indeed.’ I try not to snigger as I take it from her. ‘Thank you.’
Given the solidity, I expect it to be heavy, but it’s surprisingly light as I pad over the snow to where Kyor is so absorbed in the ritual of his manoeuvres that he still hasn’t even noticed me.
‘Hey,’ I say finally.
His eyes barely flicker towards me. ‘I’m not in the mood to talk.’