Chapter 13 Walls and Wounds
WALLS AND WOUNDS
Griffin and Daire shift forward in their chairs. Their emotions are as volatile as a rising tide, but Lochlan keeps his gaze pinned on me. His silent promise is loud and clear: if I misstep, no one will be able to save me from him.
“Enough.” Daire’s voice is as sharp as it is deep.
“We’ve already fucked up.” He turns to face me, his amber eyes nearly glowing.
Hope, frustration, and fear are just a few of the dozen emotions visible as he slowly unclenches his jaw.
“You’re not stuck. You will never be stuck.
It will always be your choice. If you don’t want to stay here, we’ll find a safe place for you to live, whether it’s here or on Earth.
But before you make that choice, let us help you train so that your elements aren’t a risk to you and so you can defend yourself if needed. ”
His words twist in my chest as they steal my anger, ease my fears, and—once again—trigger that innate desire to trust him.
For the past eleven months, all I’ve wanted is to stop creating fire. Controlling it seems like the best—maybe only—alternative.
I turn to Lochlan. “I have no intent or interest in betraying any of you.” I want to explain that I had no idea they or this place existed, that I was convinced my element was a curse or hallucination, because it didn’t seem plausible.
But in my experience, begging is a self-inflicted injury that invites hope into your thoughts and somewhere much deeper, where those in control then strangle you with it until you’re a shadow of yourself.
“I want to learn how to control my elements, and in exchange, I’ll share whatever you need to figure out what caused the imprints. ”
Holden looks at me and then at Lochlan, who avoids us both.
Griffin clears his throat. “We should eat. You have to be starving.”
My stomach is so knotted with nerves that my hunger feels forgotten, but I force myself to lift the fork. I take a small bite of something that resembles a grain. An explosion of flavors hits my tongue, and it takes everything inside of me not to react.
Slowly, they each lift their fork and start to eat.
For a few moments, silence stretches, pulling at my will and fears.
It’s unsettling to be sitting at this table, in their house, eating their food, when three of them outwardly dislike me so much, and the other two think I’m their Mate.
But the yellow fruits, which look like tiny stars and are covered in a sticky glaze, have me forgetting every single one of them.
The sweet-and-savory combination has me losing myself to hunger.
I want to devour everything on the plate and also savor it forever. Three salads surround the edge of my plate, each with a different texture and flavor. One made of unfamiliar fruits, so sweet and juicy I eat until my stomach aches, uncomfortably full. Still, I want to keep eating. I want to weep.
“We’ll create a schedule to start your training,” Daire says. “Both element and physical training.”
“Someone needs to teach her about the council,” Kai adds. “She’ll need to know what to expect.”
“I’ll keep Kandi distracted while Holden and Daire do recon,” Lochlan says. “You know enough about the council to prep her...” His silver gaze slides to mine. “Assuming she doesn’t already know everything.”
Griffin releases another growl of warning.
“You need to assign Kandi a case—something that will keep her distracted. Preferably, something that sends her to Glandore or another territory,” Daire suggests.
“Fuck that,” Griffin says. “She’ll want to stay at Hyland. Send her to Aravelle or Sylaria.”
“Sylaria,” Holden says, reaching for his tea. “There’ve been whispers of illegal trade routes forming. The language barrier and heat will keep her occupied.”
Lochlan nods. “She hates the heat. From what I can tell, it exhausts her and seems to weaken her cindrel.”
Listening to them mastermind and weaponize each of Kandi’s weaknesses makes the hesitation in my chest double.
“Are you finished?” Griffin asks, peering at my half-eaten plate. Despite wanting to eat it all, it’s apparent that Willow’s healing abilities couldn’t expand my shrunken stomach.
I nod.
“Come on, then. Let’s see if we can teach you to shield before we test your elements.
Every Elemental, regardless of their element, learns to shield.
It’s not just Soul Elementals you have to worry about—there are runes, compulsions, even old Seelie bloodlines that can find cracks and invade your mind.
” Griffin pushes his chair back, and without further instruction, the others follow.
His words are a chilling realization that invite fear into every one of my muscles, questioning if here is actually better than being in prison.
Daire sets his hand loosely against my waist. I should be bothered by how at ease he is with touching me, but there’s something obnoxiously comforting about his presence.
Still, I don’t lean into him. Instead, I stand at my full height and let them lead me into an adjoining room.
It’s another living room. This one is bigger than the ones we passed last night and less formal.
Floor-to-ceiling windows line the far wall, revealing the snow continuing to build outside.
Beige couches the size of mattresses are arranged in a U-shape.
“Again, all highly flammable,” Lochlan remarks, settling on one of the couches.
Daire keeps his hand on my hip as we sit across from him, and Griffin staples himself to my other side. Kai drops onto the couch adjacent to us.
“Your powers are at zero,” Daire says. “Are you still feeling drained?”
I have no idea what he’s referring to.
“She’s not shielding. I can access her thoughts,” Holden says.
My gaze narrows on him as another memory flashes in the back of my mind. His dark eyes meet mine, unapologetic.
Griffin bristles, but I’m exhausted of this argument—and too horrified at how easily my thoughts are on display.
“How do I shield?” I ask.
Daire turns to me. “Try to imagine your mind is a house. Shields are the doors and windows.”
I stare at him, wishing this didn’t include more visualization. I’ve always hated conception exercises, and yesterday proved why. “Will I need to use my element?”
“No,” Daire says, giving me my first taste of relief.
I close my eyes, not wanting to meet their collective stares. It doesn’t feel natural, but slowly, I imagine my thoughts and memories shoved into boxes surrounded by walls. “How do I know if I’m shielding?”
“Neon stars are an interesting addition,” Lochlan drawls.
My eyes snap open. “I don’t even feel you.”
“You would if you focused,” he says.
I glare before closing my eyes again. “How do I find you?”
A memory box topples, and the faintest trace of him teases my senses, but he’s so obscure that I know I wouldn’t be able to find him if he hadn’t revealed himself.
“You won’t be able to push me out,” he taunts. “Now, draw your shields.”
I stop thinking about walls and instead imagine steel bars.
“You’re leaving holes.”
I scramble to fill them.
“Try picturing another space,” Daire says. “Somewhere you feel safe.”
I take a deep breath and think of my apartment. My bed. The giant chair that was a refuge I crawled into with the tie blanket that the head librarian made for my birthday, the year I moved into my apartment.
“That’s it,” Daire encourages.
I settle into the chair, picturing the bookshelf beside my closet that didn’t have nearly as many books as I wished it did but hoped to acquire eventually.
Suddenly, my bookshelf stretches and bleeds into another, replaced with familiar stacks and a gray tiled floor I’d recognize anywhere.
I’m at work at the campus library. The book cart cold against my palms.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
“You aren’t shielding,” Holden answers.
It’s silent except for the loose squeaky wheel of the cart and my own heartbeat.
I release the cart and turn, mapping where the doors are, but stop when the cute guy I’d seen around the library steps out from between the stacks.
I open my eyes, but I still see him, like a movie playing in the background. He’s walking toward me, a familiar note of swagger in each of his steps.
The room shifts. I’m back in my apartment, a pot of water boiling on one of the old electric coils as a muffler outside makes me jump, tearing my attention away from the textbook I’m highlighting.
Then the walls fade, and I’m back in the library, a hand brushing my waist, as the other combs through my hair.
Panic swells, and the memory ends before I’m at the grocery store, restocking a display case with Christmas candies, the music on repeat.
It lasts only seconds.
His breath brushes mine.
“Gain your bearings and find the door to the memory,” Kai coaches.
I twist around, focusing on the memory and trying to shove it back into a box.
His mouth is at my ear, ghosting across my jaw.
Pressure and heat.
Words fracture on my lips.
Then I’m back in my parents’ house. Back in that damn dining room I’ve thought entirely too much about since arriving here.
Nausea churns my stomach, but I swallow it as the memories fade. I’m sweating, my fingers clenched into fists on my lap as realization about how difficult shielding is has New Zealand sounding better by the second.
Lochlan flashes a mirthless smile. “No need to be embarrassed, little jailbird. It’s not like your Mates have been celibate.”
Griffin shifts as though he’s going to hit him, but Holden gets between the two.
Fire and ice war in my veins. I breathe through the telltale signs of my element as hatred colors my vision.
“You’re going to get the fucking house burned down,” Holden mutters.
Daire places his palm against my back, but the calming touch barely tempers the flood inside me.
“Her cindrel went from zero to fully charged, but she’s still not shielding,” Kai observes.
My gaze snaps to his. He looks entirely aloof. Brazen.
“Dammit, Kai,” Daire bites. “She’s on a godsdamn cliff.”
“She needs to push past the unease,” Kai says.
“How do I sense if someone’s in my head if they’re just reading my thoughts?” I ask, keeping my hands fisted at my sides.
Kai raises his brows. “You likely won’t, which is why we always shield.”
I try picturing my apartment. “Am I shielding?”
“No,” Kai says flatly.
Daire sweeps his hand over my back. “Call on that safe place again.”
I picture the blanket. The warm lamplight. My thoughts and memories aren’t boxes but individual books, carefully shelved.
“Ready?” Daire asks.
I nod.
“You’re too focused on your thoughts,” Kai says. “Focus on the perimeter.”
I concentrate on the walls. The closed door and windows. The ceiling and floor.
Still, Kai slips in again. And again. And again. His presence is a barely discernible brush against my mind.
A book falls open, and the walls fade—from the plain white of my apartment to the ugly faux-wood paneled walls of my high school gymnasium.
“You weren’t focused,” my dad snaps, folding the daily newspaper he brings to every one of my basketball practices and shoving it under his arm. “You let Stacy get by you.” His cheeks are ruddy with anger.
It’s the first time I’ve seen his face in a year. It’s not the distorted blur my dreams draw, but clear and concise. Real. Just like the burn in my lungs and sweat that has my hair plastered back.
“Rather than thinking of pulling a shade down, imagine raising it,” Kai says.
My dad pushes the gymnasium door open, and I follow him into the main entryway of the high school. The hall stretches too far in both directions. Another set of doors are propped open too far ahead of us.
“One barrier at a time,” Kai instructs.
The doors in front of me slam shut, but I’m still hesitating, still caught in the wonder of seeing my dad again—of being back in time.
“You passed when you should have shot.” My father leans closer.
The exhaustion from staying up too late studying for finals clings to my muscles and bones, like I’m back in that moment.
“Shield me,” Kai demands.
I open my eyes, but once again, the memory continues, triggered by Kai’s presence.
“Put your damn coat on,” my dad hisses before his scowl lowers to my tennis shoes. “Why aren’t you wearing your boots?”
My pulse jumps, recognizing the redness climbing his neck and hardness in his eyes. I’ll regret any response at this point, so I tell the truth. “I forgot them.”
“Think of the doors,” Kai says.
My dad shoves me. My back slams into a locker, cold metal biting into my spine. He invades my space, viciously ripping my bag from my shoulder.
The pressure of the lockers anchors me. The terror of reliving this memory—of these strangers witnessing it—fuels me. I shove the memory out, building walls so tight they shut even my father out.
Stillness replaces him.
Kai stares at me.
“Is she shielding?” Holden asks.
Kai nods.
Relief rolls down my sides.
“Better,” Lochlan says, revealing he’s also attempting to slip through my defenses. “But we need to keep practicing. She’s too slow.”
His slight approval doesn’t feel like a victory.
It feels like I’ve lost another piece of myself—one I’ll never get back.