She wanted to hear them.
Horrible person that she was, Cassi ached to know she wasn't the only one with volcanic anger spewing in her gut, threatening to consume her. She wanted to see this noble prince come undone, if only for a moment, just long enough to know she wasn't alone.
"It's all right to be angry, Xander."
He glanced at her quickly, eyes flashing at her words.
"You're allowed to be angry."
"Am I?"
"Yes." Because if this good man, this honorable man, this innocent man, was furious, then maybe she could be a little bit furious too. "Here." She knelt and grabbed her discarded practice sword before offering it to him. "It'll make you feel better."
"I'm not—"
"Just take it," she said, shoving the hilt into his hand. Xander gripped it awkwardly, holding the weapon away from him as though it might bite. She couldn't help it—she laughed.
"What?" His tone was sharp with insecurity.
"Nothing." She stepped closer, softening her voice as she fixed his grip, repositioning his fingers and nudging his feet into the right spot. "Nothing. It’s just, you're holding it like you're afraid of it, but you don’t have to be. I know you're not much of a fighter, but that's a shame. You have the heart of a warrior—I saw it yesterday, when you faced that dragon. I see it now. But that will get you nowhere unless you learn the first lesson of battle."
"What's that?" His breath caressed her cheek as he spoke.
She met his gaze, unsure why the air suddenly seemed thick, why her lungs felt empty. "Your weapon is your best friend. Unlike people, it will never lie to you. It will never betray you. You can fuse your secrets into every attack, and it will keep them. It will be your confidant, if you let it." She stepped back to give him space and nudged her chin toward the bag. "Go ahead."
Xander furrowed his brows. In one decisive motion he spun and thrust the edge of the sword into the bag. It was sloppy and a bit crazed, but it brought the ghost of a grin to his lips. He swung again, and again, until his perfectly coifed hair turned disheveled and a bead of sweat trickled down his throat. Cassi watched, feeling every motion as though it were her own, pulse leaping with every whack of wood on beans. She fingered the dagger at her hip, aware of the secrets lingering in its sharp edges, and silently whispered one more.
Not today.
5
Lyana
"I don't understand."
Lyana groaned and dropped her hands, staring at the four dishes set in a line on the table before her—one for fire, one for earth, one for air, and one for water. Colors danced across her vision, painting the world in rainbow hues she could see but not touch. The magic had seemed so easy in the sacred nest, with the power simmering at her fingertips, but now it felt like trying to capture a ray of sunlight in her palm.
Malek's gaze burned as it burrowed into her face, demanding something she didn’t know how to give. They sat facing one another in her bedroom, no sound between them aside from the groaning of wood and gentle crackle of the fire burning in the first bowl. She didn’t want to meet his eyes only to find disappointment swirling within them.
"You're afraid."
She flinched. "I am not."
"You are." He frowned as a sigh slipped through his lips. Why did it seem like when he looked at her, he looked through her, into the very depths of her soul? "You don't want to be, but you are."
Am I?
Lyana stilled her wringing hands. She had never been afraid of her magic, but the power churning beneath her skin didn’t feel like hers, not anymore. Before it had been gentle and benign, a force she could smother with ease and call forth without worry. Healing was a tender sort of magic, just her and the person she was trying to fix, two souls locked together in an intimate embrace.
This new magic was something else entirely.
A few days had passed, but when she closed her eyes, those last few minutes in the sacred nest came flooding back as clear as if she were living them again. The ground shaking. The ravens screeching. The power pouring from her body, endless and immense, too much for any one person to manage. At the time, it had felt as if the world threatened to cave in around her.
But then she remembered Malek, his warm palms cupping her face as his thumbs grazed her skin in a soothing, meditative rhythm. Listen to my voice, he'd said. Calm down. Someday, you'll be able to control it.
Would she?
"You're afraid of it," Malek said, honest but not unkind. "And as long as you are, you'll never be able to control it." Leaning back into his chair, he lifted his hand and looked at his fingers. Golden sparks danced across the tips, mighty yet contained, as lethal as any blade yet as docile as a dove. They faded just as quickly as they came. "Magic can be fickle. There's evidence it's hereditary, and yet it might show up in someone like you whose bloodline hasn't seen a mage in a thousand years, if ever. It chooses when it wants to emerge, be that the day of your birth, split across an age, or never at all. It's unpredictable, and that can make it scary, but you don't need to be afraid. I was born with my full power, so I've never known anything else. But your experience is different. You need to stop thinking of your magic for what it was and embrace what it's now become. With practice, it will be easier."
Lyana stifled a groan. These were the sorts of lessons she loathed, all mental and full of minutiae, no burning muscles or racing hearts. Just a chair, a table, and her.
If only Cassi could see me now… A grin pulled at her lip as she imagined what her best friend might say. How horrible—you have to stay inside with a handsome king and learn how to use your immensely powerful, world-saving magic. I feel so bad.
Pretend Cassi was right.
Whether she believed in this prophecy or not, she needed to learn how to control this magic. If she didn’t, she'd never be able to go home again. Right now, that was far more of a concern than a string of pretty words. Her parents would soon start to worry. Luka, she was sure, would descend on the House of Whispers as soon as he heard she was gone. Xander was her mate, his people her people, and they were likely all reeling from her loss. And Rafe…
Her heart hurt just thinking about him.
He'd be gone by now, she was sure, their night together as burned into his memories as it was in hers. Their kisses. Their sighs. Those magical hours beneath the stars when they'd let passion consume them. Now their minds were supposed to lead them, but if he thought her hurt, he'd come back, no matter the personal cost. He would probably do something foolish and noble and brave in his quest to see her safe—the thought which terrified her the most.
Lyana dropped her gaze back to the bowls set on the table. "Please, Malek, tell me again about the magic, about what I must do."
"The world is made of elements, both tangible and not," he began, leaning forward once more. Though he'd told her all of this already, there was no tiredness to his words, just determination. He always seemed so focused. Did he ever allow himself a little time for fun? "For the purposes of our magic, the physical elements matter most—earth, air, fire, and water—because our magic is tied to the thing which connects them all. Within the molecules of water, between the burning embers, deep beneath the ground, and flowing across the sky, there is spirit—invisible to all eyes except for ours. A hydro'kine can manipulate the ocean waves, but you, if you want to, can manipulate the very thing that holds the ocean together." He paused as a stream of golden flecks flew from his fingers, sinking into the water and lifting a perfect sphere of liquid into the air. "A pyro'kine can make fire dance across the air, but you can make the spirit connecting each lick of flame soar." The water fell back into the dish, not a single drop spilling, and the aura of magic switched to the flames, urging them to go higher. "When you heal people, you work directly with their spirits, which are the easiest for us to command because human souls practically cry out to be saved. But every aspect of the physical world is touched by spirit, which means every aspect of the physical world is ours to do with what we will."