Page 55

Over the next week, we continued the same hopeless pattern. Give blood. Break tiles. Defend Fletcher.

When Mirin’s small house reverberated with Rosaanne’s tile shattering again, he gave a frustrated grunt and finally said, “Ripley, please try it yourself. I know you shouldn’t, but nothing will progress if we don’t try something new.

If it doesn’t work, then we can move on from the royal blood theory. ”

I sighed. “Okay.” I held out my hand and Mirin gave me a tile. The room was quiet as the three of them gazed at the glass with anticipation in their eyes.

The coolness of the tile hit my fingertips, and I forced myself to release the memories of being in the cage.

They accosted me in the ugliest of ways.

I thought about that gentle hum of energy the ?lden Lands sang if I listened close enough, the way my knuckles smacked on the glass, the screams of the other women.

I felt that evil split magic bubble to the surface, but I thought about Fletcher’s room in the Cidris Facility to ground me like it had before.

I brought forth my aqua magic to help me instead.

Then, before I was ready, Mirin raised his hand, aiming for the glass.

I told myself to not let it break. It needed to stay intact.

My people’s lives depended on it. Magic shook down my arms as I let it flow into the glass.

My skin recoiled in patterns of white stars, so I knew I had done something. “Go.”

The glass exploded, and I flinched with a yelp, beginning my own pile of glittering shards.

Graff groaned. “This is hopeless.”

“You’re hopeless,” Rosaanne grumbled under her breath while twirling a curl of her hair and popping an ocaberry in her mouth that Mirin had provided in a bowl.

“It’s okay, Ripley,” Mirin comforted. “Here.” He handed me the last tile of the box. I grabbed it then looked at the three of them watching me impatiently to try again. “I think I want to try in private,” I said, getting off the couch.

“All right. Same time tomorrow?” Graff asked.

The three agreed and departed.

“You sure about this, Ripley?” Aldris said, holding up a shot glass of my blood.

“Drink,” I urged, clenching the glass tile in my hands. It was warm from how long I had held it tonight. I didn’t dare let it go in case my magic flared and made the piece indestructible without me knowing how I’d done it.

Fletcher watched Aldris gulp his small glass while he, too, took a couple sips. I looked down at my glass tile and excused myself from Aldris’s training lesson. Tinges of depression seeped through my system, and I knew Fletcher could feel it too because his eyes darted to me with knitted brows.

“I’m fine,” I smiled. “I’m just going to go practice upstairs.”

Fletcher nodded, eyes lingering on mine briefly still before turning back to Aldris.

I sluggishly ventured up the steps, plopped on the bed, and stared at the piece of glass while listening to Fletcher teach Aldris about using magic.

Hours passed before Fletcher came in search for me, finding me staring longingly at the glass.

“How’s Aldris?” I asked lowly.

“He’s good. The magic seems mostly out of his system and he’s relaxing, waiting for side effects.” He approached me, that air of darkness following him, coiling around me and comforting my melancholy. “How are you?”

Tears filled my eyes. I didn’t think I was going to cry, but as he sat down beside me, they willed themselves free. “I can’t get it,” I vented quietly .

He moved my curtain of blonde hair away from my face, kissing my temple. “It’s okay, princess.” His hand stroked my hair again, removing more long strands. “Do you want to try to break it to see if it worked?”

“No,” I huffed. “I already know it’s going to break.” I tossed the tile onto his lap. “Here. You try.”

Fletcher curled his upper lip and lifted the glass. “If you, Graff, Aldris, and Rosaanne can’t do it, why would you think I could? Of all of us, I haven’t had magic the longest.”

I shrugged. “Mirin said nothing will progress if we don’t try something new.”

Fletcher took a deep breath. I watched intently at my aqua magic swirling down his arms in beautiful bends and glistening curves before it pooled at his fingertips. “What am I supposed to do?”

I pointed. “Make that glass indestructible.”

He stared at the glass, pondered, then transferred my magic into the tile.

The tile ignited with black smoke that held an electrical charge. Dark violet lightning bolts burned around the tile with a somber glow.

I leaped to my feet, standing on the bed, hands pressed against the wall behind me. At the same time, he sprung to his feet and backed up toward the railing in awe.

When Fletcher saw he had done something to manipulate the tile in the strangest display of magic, he dropped it.

The tile clanged against the ground, not shattering.

I let my own magic fly toward the tile, and it didn’t break.

I tried again and again and again until my whole body was covered in magic recoil.

Until my hair was of dull brunette locks.

I looked at him with wide eyes and every part of me feared with confusion as I realized what this actually meant. “You are working with the Cidris!”