Page 96 of A Cursed Son

I shake my head. “I was thinking about that history book. They mention when they invented this method of setting camp.”

“Odd.” He scratches his chin, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t recall that book being that terrifying.”

Obviously not, it’s boring history. Its subject, though… “War is scary.”

“That is true.” He approaches the edge of the tent and gestures to it. “Come. Sit. I’ll fill the canteens.”

I do as he asks, and it’s like sitting on a taut hammock.

Meanwhile, Marlak approaches the edge of the island. For some stupid reason I was thinking he’d kneel by the river, but he just opens the canteens and brings water flying into them. Water magic. Of course.

I recall his feat in the Misty Court’s palace, those walls of ice, when there was no water around, and decide to ask about it. “When you confronted Queen Berta, you created ice, and yet there was no water around us.”

He sits beside me, perhaps taking the mundane question for an invitation. “The day’s humid.”

“So you can conjure water from air.”

“If it’s humid, yes. Air from water, too. When a river flows fast, it has tons of bubbles.” He makes a gesture with his hands.

“It must be nice to have elemental magic.”

He smirks. “It must be nice to have light magic.”

“It’s not the same.”

He brings the package with the bread and cheese. “You have a beautiful power, Astra. You should develop it.”

I try to suppress any signs of discomfort from my face. “If I say I’ll develop it, will you be quiet about it?”

“No. I’ll want to help you.”

I take more pieces of bread and some cheese, keeping my eyes steady on my hands. Could Marlak ever guess what I am? It’s not a risk I’d be willing to take. “I was under the impression you thought eventually I’d betray you. Why would you want me to be more powerful?”

The intensity of his stare squeezes my chest. “I also swore to protect you. How easily you forget that. The best way to do it is by ensuring you can defend yourself.”

I decide to say something dangerously close to the truth, just for this conversation to stop. “In Krastel, anyone who wields magic without beacon stones raises suspicion. Having magic there, as a human, is not safe.”

His posture stiffens. “Yes, yes. Silly me, to forget that.”

I gaze at him, hoping to understand his reaction, but his face is as expressive as a piece of wood.

He says, “Eat, wife. I don’t want you to die from starvation. We’ll have decent meals tomorrow.” His voice is so cold that for a moment I wonder if he summoned a wall of ice between us.

Bizarre reaction. Is he offended that I refused his help? Does he think I have an issue with magic? I don’t want to ask, though, so I eat in silence, and he does the same. All I hear are the chirping of the birds, howling of the wind, and flowing of the river.

I recall Marlak’s words: magic is like water, it needs to flow. But aren’t placid lakes perfect the way they are? I don’t want to ponder which powers I lack or which powers I could wield, if I tried. Is it a waste, or just caution? I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone who’ll be able to answer my questions, to guide me. Is there another one of my kind anywhere?

Why are these long-buried questions surfacing now?

I get up and stare at the ocean of clouds covering us. “No stars tonight.”

“There goes our opportunity to stargaze together,” he drawls.

I turn to him. “Is everything a mockery for you?”

He runs his hand through his stunning curls. “Most definitely not, wife.”

“Stop calling me wife. You’ve said it. I’m not your wife for real. I’m your prisoner.”