Page 21

K ian

The sound of someone clearing their throat cuts through the haze of sleep like a blade through silk. My eyes snap open, and for a moment, I’m disoriented by the warmth pressed against me and the sweet scent that fills my nostrils. It’s of honey and wildflowers mingled with a hint of magic.

Kakara’s cat!

My eyes open wide.

My arms are wrapped around her slight frame, holding her against my chest as if she belongs there.

Her dark hair spills across my shoulder, and I can feel the soft puff of her breath against my neck.

She fits perfectly in my arms, curves molding to my body in ways that make me forget…

everything outside of this bed. Outside of us.

Then I remember that we’re not alone and that I most definitely should not be holding McColl like this. I look up straight into the bemused expression on Kyrie’s face.

The gods be damned, I’m a fool!

I jolt upright so quickly I nearly topple off the narrow pallet, my sudden movement causing McColl to startle awake with a gasp. She clutches the covers to her chest, her dark eyes wide and confused as she blinks up at me and then at Kyrie.

“Good morning, you two.” Kyrie’s voice is filled with barely contained amusement. There is a steaming mug in her hands and a knowing smile on her lips. “Would either of you like some rosehip tea?”

Heat floods my face. “Um…that…I…” I scramble for words, running a hand through my disheveled hair. “We were…I…” I need to get it together. “We were just sleeping,” I finally settle on. I’m sure I must look like a naughty child. I certainly feel like one.

“Mmm-hmm.” Kyrie’s smile widens.

McColl looks like a startled deer. Her cheeks are flushed pink, and she won’t meet my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I stammer, though I’m not entirely sure who I’m apologizing to – McColl, Kyrie, or myself. “I didn’t mean to—” I look down at Kyrie, who finally locks eyes with me.

“It’s fine,” McColl says quickly, her voice slightly hoarse from disuse. “We were asleep. The pallet is small.” She shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

I need to get out of this cabin. Now.

“Would you look at that? Night has already lifted. We should start those magic lessons,” I say abruptly, already moving toward my pack to grab fresh clothes.

“Right now, in fact. I’ll meet you outside in a few minutes?

” It’s thinly veiled as a question, but I leave without waiting for a response.

I practically run out of there like my tail is on fire.

The cool morning air hits my face as I stride toward the lake, my heart still pounding from more than just embarrassment. I can’t stop thinking about how right it felt to wake up with McColl in my arms, how perfectly she’d fit against me, how her scent had made me want to bury my face in her hair.

Xander and Thesha’s warnings echo in my mind. They think my judgment is compromised, that I’m letting attraction cloud my thinking. Maybe they’re right.

I strip off my rumpled tunic and splash into the lake’s edge, cupping the cold water in my hands to wash my face and chest. The shock of it helps clear my head, at least temporarily. I scrub my teeth with my finger and then take a long drink of water.

I need to get myself together. I made a promise I wouldn’t act on my attraction.

I also promised McColl that I would help her get home.

I want to meet with her family, with the leaders of her coven.

There is a bigger picture at stake here, and I can’t ruin it by thinking with what’s between my legs instead of what’s on my shoulders.

I hear footsteps and turn to see McColl heading this way.

The yellow dress Kyrie gave her brings out the warm undertones in her dark hair and makes her skin glow in the filtered morning light.

She looks beautiful, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

I look out over the lake because I’m sure I’m staring.

“Ready for your lesson?” she asks, and her voice is carefully neutral, professional even.

“As ready as I will ever be,” I say, turning to face her. Her eyes drop to my chest, where they linger on the elaborate marking that covers the left side of my torso, and I see genuine curiosity replace the careful distance in her expression. Her eyes move over the intricate lines of my marking.

“That’s beautiful,” she says softly, stepping closer. “What does it represent? Does it mean anything?”

I glance down at the mark I’ve carried since my coronation – a tree with spreading branches and deep roots, rendered in black ink shot through with streaks of gold and emerald green.

“It’s the royal mark of the Emptyfae Court,” I explain, suddenly self-conscious about her scrutiny. “It is the ancient symbol of my Court. The roots represent our connection to the earth, the branches our reach toward the heavens. The gold marks me as royalty.” I run my hand over it.

“Do all the kings have marks like this?”

I nod. “They do indeed, but each one is unique. Each Court has its own symbol. Xander’s is a heart in red and gold – the bloodfae mark of passion and loyalty.

Orion bears a dragon, plus the bonding mark he received when he tethered with Delphine.

Damon’s is of intricate ice crystals, representing the precision and beauty of the icefae.

All with gold threaded through them for royalty. ”

McColl’s eyes continue to rove over the lines of my mark; her fingers twitch as if she wants to trace them, and my skin burns under her scrutiny. She’s just interested in the royal markings, nothing more. It’s academic curiosity. She is, after all, quite the scholar.

“We should start the lesson,” I say, pulling my tunic back over my head.

“It’s such a lovely day for it.” McColl looks up at the sky and then across the valley.

“It is, indeed.”

The day is turning out to be unusually pleasant, with actual hints of sunlight burning through the perpetual haze. The warmth on my skin feels like a gift after the last few cold, gray days.

“All right,” McColl says, all business now. “Let’s start with the basics.”

“I must warn you that my magic feels like it has been growing since I gained access to it.”

“It’s more than likely that you have more access than when you first received your well.”

I nod.

“The more powerful, the more difficult wielding becomes,” she explains. “You see, magic isn’t just about power; it’s about control, focus, and intent. Show me how you pull up your magic.”

I reach for the well of energy within me, and it responds immediately, shocking me with its strength. It may have grown in potency since yesterday. I’m not entirely sure. The only thing I am certain of is that this lesson is very needed.

I reach some more, and the magic surges to the surface like a dam bursting, flooding through my veins with an intensity that makes me gasp. It’s like trying to contain a raging river with my bare hands.

“Whoa,” I breathe, power crackling along my skin in visible sparks. “It’s…it’s a lot. More than yesterday, when we were fighting those fae.”

McColl’s eyes widen as she takes in the raw energy radiating from me.

“That’s incredible. I’ve only ever seen conjurers access their magic so easily; so readily, too.

You need to learn to control the flow. Think of it like…

” She pauses, clearly searching for the right analogy.

“Your magic is like a waterfall. The stream is powerful, but you need to channel it properly, or it’ll destroy everything in its path. ”

“I can feel that,” I say, sweat beading on my forehead from the effort of containing the magic. “It wants to be used. It wants to burst out of me and all at once.” I think of how I blew the chest out of that guard yesterday. I hadn’t meant to do that. “How do I channel it?”

“Think of a raging river…then of the river slowing and slowing. Now it’s damming, the water calm.”

I do as she says and picture it. Lo and behold, my magic calms. It isn’t raging like it was before.

“That’s excellent.”

“It still feels like a lot,” I push out.

“You need to picture a small trickle coming off of the dam. You’re going to use that trickle and only that small amount. Your focus is on that tiny bit.”

“I see it.”

“Good.” She walks over to a tree and picks up a small branch, placing it on the ground just a few feet away. “We’re going to start very small. Concentrate on that tiny trickle of water. I want you to set the twig on fire. Think of the trickle and of one single flame.”

“Okay.” I pull in a breath.

I try to pull just a thread of magic, just as she says.

A trickle.

Just a little trickle.

A small flame.

I’m concentrating as hard as I can, but the magic erupts from my hand in a massive gout of flame that engulfs not just the twig but a nearby bush as well, setting it ablaze with a whoosh that makes us both jump back.

McColl chokes out a laugh, already raising her hands to douse the flames with a controlled spray of water from the lake. “That’s definitely a power control issue, not an access issue. I never had that problem, but there were a few girls in my class who struggled.”

“Oops!” I stare at the smoking remains of what used to be a perfectly healthy shrub. “I could have burned the whole cabin down.”

McColl looks at me strangely. “You’re incredibly powerful, Kian.

It’s extraordinary,” she says, and there’s genuine awe in her voice.

“But power without control is dangerous. It’s a good thing we’re having a few training sessions.

We’re going to have to work hard over the next few days, and that’s just so you can get some basic control. ”

“I’m up for it.” I nod.

“I would suggest that we try this again, but in the water, where you can’t burn anything down.” She looks over at the lake.

“That’s such a great idea.”

“Here’s the thing: if you’re tense or nervous, you’ll have a harder time controlling your powers. You need to try to relax and free your mind, which is sometimes easier said than done.”

I take off my tunic and my shoes.