Page 49 of A Touch of Stars and Stones (Kirrian #1)

twenty-eight

. . .

Ever

T he water is crystal clear, cool, and quenches the raging thirst that the walk triggered on top of the training. I want to drink the whole pitcher, but stop after the second cup, placing it back on the metal tray Ten fetched it from.

“I agreed to sessions as a courtesy for you , Aten,” Kamari states as we both stand, waiting, in her office.

Shrinking against the wall isn’t an option as her deep blue eyes look over me.

But I look for the anger I felt in the classroom to stop myself from lowering my head.

Aurelia suggested this, and Rowan agreed, but clearly, the message hadn’t reached Kamari.

Or she at least hadn’t agreed to this particular meeting.

“And I’m grateful. But, given the circumstances, we need to extend that same courtesy to Ever.” Ten’s response is calm and clear.

“Who isn’t a Guard.” Her tone hardens.

“No. She’s a Fifth and doesn’t have an Order.

This was Aurelia’s idea. Ever needs to gain the ability to control her magic.

Nobody can even categorise what she can do yet, but she’s shown powers similar to a Guard, which is, according to some, the most powerful of the Orders.

” Ten doesn’t back down, and my heart swells.

She looks between us and nods. “Very well.”

“Thank you,” I say. It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue that she should be willing to do this rather than be corralled, but I keep the words to myself. She seemed kind when I first met her in the Hall, so lean into that and hope I’m not wrong.

“Have you practised or learned to do this with others? The Maker can, but can you?” Her question rings in my head, and it sounds like a test. So, like every other time, I think my reply.

“I didn’t realise the Maker was the only one.”

Kamari’s face startles, perhaps not expecting me to talk directly to her.

“Can you communicate like this with everyone? Whomever you choose?”

I pause. “I haven’t tried.”

“You will need to learn to open yourself up to your gifts, Ever, or you will never uncover your full abilities.” Kamari smiles, a subtle gesture, but one I take.

“Help me to do that. The Custodians have tested me against the other trainees. Just touch, connect, see what happens, then wait to pick up the pieces, and it hasn’t gone well.”

She nods and glides past us, and plumes of fabric wrapping her body in a multitude of coloured fabrics flow in her wake as she circles her office.

It’s full of light, decorated with drapes of luscious fabric, the colour of rare jewels.

Not even the most expensive of fabrics from the mill produced colour like this. And she has them in abundance.

“Your mind will no doubt work to support, help, and protect you and your magic. Explain to me what you know you can do already.” The tinkle of the metal bangles knocking together along her wrists accompanies her words.

I glance at Ten and then back at Kamari, who’s completed a lap of the office.

“It’s hard to explain. It’s not consistent.”

“Try. Or leave now.” Her curt command gives no room for question.

Okay, then. “It feels like I can boost others’ power.”

“Micah Star, Calix Aster, and Ravi Dara have all had their powers amplified when working with her. She created a rainstorm inside, created an earthquake with Micah,” Ten elaborates.

“The others?”

“I showed Ascella her… death. I think. I… She said I killed her on the battlefield.” My eyes dip at the memory, the smell of the blood, tickling my nose as if summoned by the mention of death to haunt me.

“Did you?” she asks.

“Not deliberately. I didn’t think about going to that place, that scene. It just… happened.”

“She trapped Azur in his own mental maze and left him,” Ten adds. “And that’s the problem. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and it’s dangerous for everyone.”

“She trapped Azur?” Kamari sounds surprised.

“He led me somewhere, like in a dream, but I got scared, and…” I trail off as another memory I’d rather forget comes back to me.

“And you two?” She flicks her eyes between us.

Ten shifts his stance. “Images. Visions. Flashes of things. At least before the Transference.”

She continues staring at Ten with expectancy written on the slant of her mouth.

“Visions. Scenes of places I’ve never been to or recognise. Glimpses,” he continues.

“And?”

“Pain.” He clears his throat. “When I’ve held her hand, brushed her skin. When I touched her cheek, it felt like she was going to crack my skull apart.” His tone is even and measured. No emotion in the words. I’ve heard him like that before.

My eyes sting with tears as I hear the full extent of what I’ve done to him.

Without even realising. Without knowing.

My gaze bores into Ten, but he doesn’t shift to look at me, and all I want is to let him know how sorry I am. How I wish that hadn’t happened between us. A heaviness, like winter snow, settles in my chest as I think about what this might mean.

“Ever?”

I peek up at Kamari.

“We can feel you. Your sorrow.”

“What?”

“It’s like a physical pulse from you. It’s blaring at me. It might not be the same for Ten.” She looks at him. “Can you feel Ever, Ten?” Kamari asks aloud.

“Yes,” he grits out.

Like when he read my emotions and thoughts outside my door.

It’s there, the thought, my intent, begging to push out and ask him to look at me. To let me know what he’s feeling right now.

“What did the Maker tell you?” Kamari’s question snaps my attention.

I shut out every thought and keep my mind blank.

The conversation I shared with her isn’t one I’m ready to share or reveal to anyone in detail.

Not yet. But I’m here for a reason, to try and control, and maybe not gift Ten pain every time we touch.

“That my mind is like a muscle, and I need to train.” Hardly a secret.

She nods, continuing her lap of the room, and seems to ponder my words as if they are a riddle or complex question.

“I want you to try again. Connect your hands. But this time, Ten, I want you to work at building a mental shield to protect something. A thought, a bit of information, it doesn’t matter what, but I want Ever to try and find that information.”

“But, Ten, no. I don’t want to hurt him.” My heart starts to pound. “Touch hurts him.”

“It’s fine, Ever. This is what we’re here to do.” His voice is too calm and sends a shiver over me as I watch him turn towards me. His eyes wash over me for a split second before he shakes out his arms and rolls his shoulders, giving me a glimpse of the muscles straining under his shirt.

And then he raises his palm. Giving me his choice.

“You control your mind. That is the skill of a Guard. You won’t be able to build without practice. This is practice, Aten.” Kamari’s words are resolute. “He needs this as much as you, Ever,” she adds.

And it’s that revelation that has me inhaling a deep breath to quieten my nerves and fear. To find that still lake, the well of power. Waiting.

I can do this. I won’t hurt him.

I place my hand against Ten’s.

And our eyes lock.

Beautiful, deep, comforting. All the things he’s always shown me are shining right back at me.

Heat, the familiar sensation, roars up my arm from our joined hands, but this time, I study his face, waiting for anything that might indicate he’s in pain.

But his features don’t shift, and his eyes stay on mine, and I feel…

safe. Warmth seemingly pouring from them—beseeching me—to keep trying and find what he’s hidden.

“Go on,” Kamari encourages.

So, with calmness, the water at the centre of my chest resonates, and I push forward towards Ten’s own mind.

It isn’t dissimilar to what happened with Azur, but I feel in control now.

Purposeful. Rather than my ability overtaking me without my consent, I feel for it, the energy, and learn to recognise it, that signature I first felt when practising for the first time.

I ease forward, envisaging the water from the well running like a stream, gentle. Soft. Towards Ten.

But before anything else happens, that stuttering collection of visions is back: red and purple, mountains, and trees.

“Do you see these?” I ask, flinching. I’d never thought to try and communicate while doing this, while being connected via touch. The urge to close my eyes and pull away is fierce, but I hold firm.

“Yes.”

The visions continue to bounce between different vistas and scenes. There is a familiarity to them, like maybe I’ve seen these before, or Ten has, and these are memories.

I wait until the image changes again, and I focus my mind to stay there, as if I can prevent that random scattering of them from changing.

My eyes close in concentration, and I will everything into it, but the scene shifts, the mist clearing to reveal ice and snow.

Footsteps along a rocky path. Everything is white.

“I don’t recognise this.” Ten’s voice is tight, strained.

But his fingers slide between mine, gripping my hand so I can’t pull away, as if he can sense that’s what I’m about to do because there’s tension in his voice.

My heart skips faster as the heat intensifies, burning and fusing our palms together, just like in the classroom.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No.”

“Concentrate,” Kamari instructs.

The image doesn’t change in our minds, and I’m sure we’re seeing the same thing now.

After a moment to steady myself, I pull strength from our connection, and using the still well of water in my chest, I push out again, my magic now a river on an icy path seeking the information Ten is meant to be keeping from me.

But in the image, a dark figure emerges through the desolate and chilled scene, walking through the grey, his black boots sure on the treacherous ground. And as he comes even closer, recognition dawns. It’s Ten.

The grip on my hand tightens.

“What do you see?” Kamari asks.

“Myself.”

“Have you found the information, Ever?” Kamari checks, her tone anxious.

“No. I don’t know how to look.”