Page 39 of A Touch of Stars and Stones (Kirrian #1)

“I think you’re brilliant.” I close my eyes, the grin still on my face, as I settle and think about a well, or a body of water, in my chest, just below my necklace. As I visualise it, it seems to pulse as if answering me for the first time. “Oh my gosh!” I laugh, opening my eyes.

Kyra just looks at me like I’ve gone mad. But I really haven’t.

For the first time, I know I haven’t. Hope rises, lifting me for the first time in days.

“Here.” I raise my palm again, eager to try and put the pieces together now that someone has given me more than a careless remark for an explanation. It might be second nature to those born here, but not to me.

She doesn’t hesitate and places her palm up to mine.

I close my eyes, focusing on the body of water I can now feel, as if my chest has suddenly made space for the power within me. And I imagine a small stream of that water, travelling up from that well and down my arm until it reaches my fingers and connects with Kyra.

As well as physically feeling the power, the little buzz or crackle on my skin, I can now envision it. It’s not blind thought or reaction, and I breathe in the relief as the small stream of water wraps my hand and entwines with Kyra’s.

She told me to imagine the coloured streams mixing, so that’s what I try and see—pressing it with my mind to mix with the breeze Kyra can create.

Sure enough, the wind that took out the candles now ruffles past our hair, whipping it around, much stronger than before, but controlled.

“I can feel you,” she breathes. “It’s not quite how I remember it, but I can feel you adding to my power.”

I keep my eyes shut, concentrating.

“Push a little harder. You’ve got this,” she encourages, but I drop her hand, almost frightened to do more.

“What happened?”

I open my eyes to see her questioning me.

Ascella’s face is right there, right at the forefront of my mind. I had no control over that, and I’d be devastated to do something like that to Kyra.

“Small steps.”

“You’ll need to learn to take bigger steps if you want to keep up.”

“But what…” I start, but don’t finish, nervous about voicing this fear.

“Go on.”

“You don’t think a Fifth is cursed, marked with… death?” I raise the question that’s been hiding in my mind since the experiment in the classroom, like the shadow of a wraith waiting to claim me.

“No. Why would you say that?”

“Because of what happened today—what’s been happening to me.”

“No. Although I can see how it might feel like that. Don’t be afraid. Read. Practice, and I’ll work with you again. No force or trying to win between us, just practice.”

“Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.” The hug I’ve been holding back from giving her for the past few days bursts free, and I wrap my arms around her, appropriate or not.

There’s a hum between us. But I mentally picture the water—the well—and the stillness to it. And the hum doesn’t grow. It doesn’t change or stutter into visions.

Kyra splutters but then relaxes into it, but she doesn’t wrap her arms around me. That’s okay. I can live with that.

“I’d better go. And you need some food. Remember, your well needs to be kept full, and so you need to look after yourself.”

I smile at her as she skips up and across the room, her braids swaying down her back.

“Thank you, Kyra. I mean that.”

I let her leave and go over her sage words before lying back on my bed and mentally focusing on the well I’ve now found.

I think of the stream back home where I found the small piece of quartz and lean over to pick it from the table, rubbing it between my fingers, and go back to building a picture of my power in my head.

No curse of death in sight.

The next morning, I’m dragged from sleep by a loud and insistent gripe and grumble in my stomach.

That’s what going to bed without dinner will do. It also means I won’t be late for training, either. Win-win.

Sort of win, I correct.

As I slide out of bed, I anticipate the harsh protest from my muscles, but they feel remarkably good, considering yesterday.

Maybe that medicine really did help. Quickly, I wash up in the adjoining bathing room and dress in the now-familiar black training clothes Kyra first stocked my wardrobe with.

I’m still adding my shirt over the top, not quite comfortable to be wearing just a second skin for a top.

Everyone’s looking at me already, and I don’t want to add to the list of shortcomings.

Although if it were Ten watching me, I might reconsider.

The hallway outside my room is still dark; the dull flicker of a few lit sconces is the only source this early in the morning until I reach the food hall, where the glowing embers from the fire still burn gently, licking at the charred and burned coals.

I wonder if I’m too early for food, but my nose says otherwise. There’s no buffet set out for us at the hatch, but Micah did say I could always go into the kitchen and ask.

So, I do.

Entering, I watch as a half dozen people busy themselves around the simple but apparently effective kitchen set-up. Hovering in the doorway, I wait for an invitation or for someone to notice me, content to enjoy the smell of fresh bread and be transported home for a moment.

A young woman finally notices me and stops in her tracks between two benches. “You’re early,” she proclaims in a flat tone. “What will it be?”

“Um, whatever you have that’s ready. Sorry, I missed dinner, so I’m hoping to have an early breakfast.”

“I’ll get you a plate. You can wait in the hall, and I’ll bring it out.”

“Okay. Thank you. Oh, and if you have some of those custard tarts with the pastry?”

“Ah, so it’s you Aten Ciro told us about. Yes. I’ll add them, too.”

Ten spoke to someone about me? “Thank you. They’re delicious.”

I head back out and sit on one of the benches, listening to the faint pop and simmer of the fire, and wonder if it’s fed magically or by a person.

The slice of quiet is exactly what I need.

My eyes close, and I picture the well in my chest again, the calmness of the water’s surface, and take in a deep breath before slowly releasing it.

A few simple instructions from Kyra, and I feel like I am at least a step closer to gaining control.

Which is a damn sight better than yesterday.

But my peace is shattered by loud footfalls, and my eyes snap up to see the hulking figure of Calix walking into the hall. He’s in a training top, the heavy-set muscles of his frame on display in the short sleeves, and his blond hair is darkened with sweat.

I turn back to the empty table so he doesn’t catch me staring.

“Relax, Ever.” His voice carries over the quiet space between us. “No need to look so jumpy.” He straddles the bench and looks directly at the side of my head.

Until I tilt my head and side-eye him.

“Oh, not bad, considering the pounding you took. I meant what I said. I’m sorry for the bruises.” He swivels his leg over the bench and rests his forearms on the table.

“It’s fine,” I answer begrudgingly. I hadn’t checked in the mirror yet to see the damage.

“You’re up early. Nobody’s up this early.”

“I was hungry.”

“Well, yeah. If you skip dinner after training, you’re going to be.” He noticed?

“Why are you up, then?” I venture.

“Training. Plus, I still feel pretty pumped after what you did to me yesterday.”

“Sorry about that,” I mutter.

“Hey, don’t be. Zuns, I deserve far worse for what I put you through.”

I snigger.

The woman from the kitchen arrives with two plates of breakfast, setting them down in front of us. “Calix.” She smiles at him as she slides the piled plate to him.

He nods, grabs his fork, and starts to eat the mountain of food in front of him. I guess all the working out gives him an appetite.

But then I look at my plate and baulk at how much is there. “I can’t eat all of this,” I say in shock.

“Nonsense. If you missed dinner, you need to make up for it. Eat.” Her voice holds a gentle authority, and she nods before turning on her heel and disappearing back into the kitchen.

“She’s right. We have archive study this morning. At least, that’s the schedule. But who knows what they’ll want us doing afterwards.” He loads up another full forkful. “You’ll need your energy. Trust me.”

“From the mouth of the man who had me on my knees,” I retort. But I do grab one of the soft rolls and start pulling it apart. They are my favourite after the custard tarts.

“I’m not going to give you an easy pass. The only thing I’ll apologise for is the bruises after, even if you look badass with them.” My cheeks warm at his words and the quick glance his blue eyes make towards me.

And I settle into eating the rest of my breakfast with Calix.