“That sounds like Knight.”
“I tried using my power as a weapon tonight,” Braxton confessed, but his words were strained. “Channeling the magic was nothing like when I’ve used it for healing or anything else. It was difficult, taxing. It felt like I was trying to rip something from my insides just to access it.”
Concern creased his mother’s brow. “So, you weren’t able to use it at all?”
“I was, but—” Standing, Braxton walked away from us, stopping by the kitchen, clearly frustrated with himself. His lower back rested against the counter when he faced us all, gripping it with both hands. He shook his head and looked at me, but he almost couldn’t see me, it was like he was back in the cave he’d used to practice. “I almost killed Asher in the process.”
Gods!
Dread consumed me instantly, but I stopped the gasp that threatened to rip loose. I knew Braxton would never hurt Asher on purpose and reiterating how grave that statement was did nothing to help him.
Kingston and Imogen didn’t utter a single word, they didn’t even react. Instead, their faces transformed, joining his mother in her concern for him. The need to find a way to help him burst from them in waves, but I feared this was something Braxton would have to overcome on his own.
I stood, placing a hand on his chest once I stopped before him. “What happened?” My question was driven by caution, taking my time to examine his expression.
“It wasn’t a direct hit,” he clarified. “At first, I was able to create balls of energy, but I couldn’t even hold them within my grasp. The power was erratic and unmanageable. Each one I produced burst from my hands, no matter how hard I tried to control them.”
“Asher is an excellent warrior. I have no doubt he was able to avoid them without consequence,” my guardian offered, trying to take away some of his guilt.
“He did. All of them.” Braxton sighed, rubbing both hands over his face. “It wasn’t actually one of the balls that almost got him. In my frustration, I slammed my fists against the ground, and a wave of power exploded out of me. It crashed against Asher and sent him flying against the sharp blades of rock along the cave wall. If Tharion hadn’t caught him mid-air…”
He shook his head again, and when his eyes met mine, the pain in him coursed into me.
“I don’t know what I would have done if I’d killed—"
“But you didn’t,” I cut him off because he needed to understand. “And now you know what to expect from your power. How it reacts and how easy or difficult it is to access. Next time, you will do better.”
I pressed my forehead to his and soothingly caressed his chest. I knew our simple contact would help him feel better because it always helped me.
“Evanna must have cut me open at least a hundred times while I was teaching her to wield her spear,” Kingston admitted, bringing a chuckle out of me.
“Easily,” I agreed.
“Easily,” my guardian echoed, somewhat nostalgic. “Learning to wield a weapon, regardless of its kind, it’s no easy feat. Someone is always hurt in the process. The important thing is that you learn.”
Braxton sighed, briefly kissing my lips before he regarded Kingston. “I understand. The issue is that you all had someone to train you, I don’t.”
“You are trying to decipher a power you’d only ever seen used to kill and destroy,” Imogen explained. “That is why you are struggling.”
Braxton nodded, as though he’d come to the same conclusion. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to wield it. Nor how it’s supposed to feel or be channeled.” His gaze shifted to his mother. “That is why I’m here. Why I came to see you. You grew up around Wizards, Mom. Is there anything you remember that might help me? Anything you saw Raithian do that might work?”
The flickering of horror crossed her features, as though the mention of Raithian brought back memories she had long repressed.
Braxton instinctively stepped towards her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine.” With a shake of her head, she stood, wrapping her arms around herself. “I fear I don’t know enough to help you, Son. But I do remember some things from my granddaddy.”
Walking to the open doors that gave way to a large deck, she stopped before the opening, letting the breeze flow around her body soothingly.
“Everyone believes Raithian killed his father right away to take the Dragon Throne from him, but the truth is that he captured him first, keeping him in the dungeons. He drained my granddaddy slowly. Painfully. My father kept him alive for years just to rob him of magic whenever he wanted.”
Her head was low when she turned to us again, eyes closed, like she was reliving those days. The urge to go to her and console her became overwhelming inside me. Pain was still edged on her features.
“I was too small to do anything that could truly help him, and my mother was always weak from Raithian’s sessions…” She paused, her eyes opening to interrupt the memory. “I used to sneak into the cells to see my granddaddy, because I never knew him outside those bars. I would take him food, mostly, and books for him to read.” Light returned to her face as she smiled. “He loved books most of all, and I was really good at sneaking past the guards.”
“Evanna used to do that to me too when she was younger. Drove me insane,” Kingston grunted with the confession, and everyone chuckled, even the princess.
Unfortunately, the light dimmed in her again.
“You can use your magic to protect others, Braxton.” Her comment seemed disconnected from the conversation, causing concern to color Braxton’s features.
“Mom?”
Knowing she wasn’t making much sense, she waved at him dismissively. “The last time I saw my granddaddy, he used what was left of his power on me. To protect me. That was the only thing that kept me alive through my father’s attempts to drain me of magic… until Khayden took me away.”
Gods…
Something tore in my heart. Listening to such a loving soul relate some of the things she’d been through, even in passing, made me want to rip Raithian apart limb by limb and then throw him to the shah.
From the way Braxton’s hands fisted, I wasn’t the only one.
“Was it a spell?” I asked, trying to pull Braxton’s mind away from his mother’s unsettling torture, one handed by her own father.
Princess Keira sighed. “Not exactly. Granddaddy used to call it setting an intention. There wasn’t any specific sentence to recite. It exuded from within him…”
She paused for a moment, glistening tears returning to her eyes.
“I just remember him pulling me into his arms through the bars and hugging me fiercely, harder than he ever had. Granddaddy sent every ounce of magic left in him into me, and I instantly felt his energy coursing through my body. His love.” Shaking her head, she glanced at us. “It’s the only way I can describe it. It was his love for me, powerful and everlasting. He set it to protect me from any harm. To protect me from my own father.”
Tears spilled freely from her eyes with the memory while she hugged herself like he had held her.