Page 63 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

Before he could finish, mist curled through the air.

The room dimmed, shadows flickering as storm clouds began to form—inside.

A crackling gust of wind rushed between us, rattling the furniture.

“Is she a Storm Reaper?” Eilvin’s voice held more than concern—there was fear.

Naia turned toward him. “What do you know about powers?”

Eilvin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m a lowborn noble, like Tae.”

Tae swore. “Nobles are trained about powers, but a Storm Reaper? That is a true fae power. It has never existed in a halfling.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “It has to be something else.”

“Even rarer than Zander’s?” I pressed.

Tae and Eilvin exchanged a look.

Tae hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

I barely registered his words, because the heat inside me flared again—a deep, searing burn in my veins.

I gritted my teeth and reached for Kaelith, shoving past the pain.

If you’re trying to kill me, just get it over with.

A deep, rumbling growl echoed in my mind.

Then, just as suddenly as it began—the pain vanished.

The storm clouds faded. The mist dissipated.

The air stilled.

The only sound in the room was my heavy breathing.

The soft, measured cadence of Cordelle’s voice filled the room, his poetry weaving between tales of battles fought in the outer kingdoms and the haunting, delicate sorrow of star-crossed lovers.

I let the words wash over me, letting my body sink into the mattress, the weight of the day pulling me in and out of sleep.

At some point, the warmth of the room, the steady rhythm of his voice, and the subtle hum of magic still lingering in my veins lulled me into oblivion.

When I woke, the room was quiet. Only Cordelle was with me.

He was sitting at the edge of my bed, a thick, leather-bound book resting on his lap. His eyes flickered up from the pages as I blinked blearily at him.

“You’re awake. The others went for a walk, but I said I would stay with you. I borrowed a few books from my father,” he murmured, tapping the worn cover. “They’re on powers—how to control them, how to channel them properly.”

I sat up, still groggy, running a hand through my hair. “And?”

Cordelle hesitated.

“Tae was right,” he said finally. “The power you appear to have—it isn’t just rare. In fae culture, it is tied to a lost bloodline. One that was… eradicated in the fae wars.”

My stomach tightened.

Eradicated.

“I think your power is similar, but I haven’t been able to identify it completely yet,” he admitted.