Page 34 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

“Maybe,” I replied, my own lips curving into a mischievous smile. Rokath had used his powers with me multiple times, and I’d always been impressed by the mastery he possessed.

I wanted that.

Training with him prior to the rescue mission had shown me I’d barely scratched the surface of what I could do with my burgundy eyes.

“Release it so you still have some magic left to test your secondary power,” he murmured. When I loosened my grip on him, he reached out, running his fingers through the onyx ink as it retreated inside me. The awe with which he viewed my power made my low belly heat.

When it had all vanished, he sat back on the bale of hay.

The way he studied me made me want to squirm, but I held still as I waited for him to speak.

His mind was whirling far too quickly for me to chase his thoughts.

“Have you only ever attempted to create someone else’s body? Never their clothing?”

I shook my head. “Only them. When I would sneak out of Vagach’s house, I’d steal his clothes and make a new form to fit.”

A muscle feathered in Rokath’s jaw at the mention of my deceased abusive husband.

Did I love his violence because he would have protected me from that situation had he known?

Rokath’s fierce claim, his savage protection, his brutal love…

the way I savored all of it should have made me feel ashamed.

Yet he’d only encouraged that side of me every time it emerged.

Trauma had brought out jagged shards of ebony in both of us, and as we revealed them to one another, they only served to twist our bond tighter .

Rokath ripped my focus back to him with a new command. “Try it now.”

“To become someone else with their clothes on?” I questioned, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my pointed ear.

“Aye,” he replied, shifting his weight on the bale.

Nodding, I dove into my well again, picturing Kiira the last time I had seen her. The silky straightness to her dark locks. The litheness of her frame. The long sleeved wrap dress and the delicate diamond chain that wrapped around her neck and dipped between her breasts.

Ink twisted around me, like Rokath had suggested I do to decrease the time it took to create a new form, as I continued to call details to the front of my mind. A moment passed, then another, as I sharpened the image.

Then, I relaxed my fingers, magic slipping away with the breeze. Heart hammering against my ribs, my focus trailed down. Though I still wore my leather pants, the illusion of a long sleeved silk top glittered with diamonds.

I lifted my gaze, meeting Rokath’s. He assessed me with those battlefield commander eyes, unfazed by who I chose to impersonate.

“Trying to look like Kiira at the ball?” he clarified, referring to the split second I’d gotten to enjoy myself in Gyor Palace before he dragged us both from the room.

“Yes,” I stated. He rose, then circled me like a predator.

“So it’s possible to conjure clothing, but you need practice doing it,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Thank you for stating the obvious,” I replied anyway, rolling my eyes.

He halted in front of me. Releasing the form, I tipped my head up to look at him. Something hungry danced in his eyes. “ Watch that smart mouth if you don’t want it punished later,” he warned, his tone gravelly and filled with wanton promise.

“What else would you like me to attempt, master ?” I quipped, letting the last word roll off my tongue with a healthy dose of snark.

In one smooth motion, he had his hand wrapped around my throat. Stroking the underside of my jaw, he elicited a shiver. “You truly are testing me today, Assyria,” he rumbled, but there was no animosity in his words. The bond flooded with lust.

He dragged in a serrated breath, and then forced a step back. My body ached for his touch, bowing toward his. Yet the retreat was necessary for the continuation of this lesson.

The irony that he was the one with more self control today was not lost on me.

“Channel your desire into making a new form,” he murmured, settling on the hay again.

Haze lingering despite my best effort to clear it, I did as he requested and attempted to recreate Kiira’s outfit from the night of the ball.

Instead of including a change in my body, I focused solely on her clothing.

Shadows disappeared, revealing the full dress, though it still sparkled with gems.

“Hold on, I can do better,” I said, closing my eyes and diving into my magic again.

The next attempt resulted in a marginal improvement, the fabric all silk.

The one after left me with a cluster of gems around my neck.

I shifted, rolling my shoulders at the unnerving feeling.

A sense of nakedness clung to me despite being cloaked in leather and magic.

Rokath didn’t seem to notice my discomfort, his mind working. “So we know now that you can both change your physical appearance and clothing. What about another’s magic? You said before you couldn’t. But have you ever tried?”

“Yes, though it was a long time ago,” I admitted, surrendering my hold. My shoulders dropped away from my ears, and I shook out my arms.

“Tell me about it,” he instructed. With a sigh, I settled beside him on the hay.

“When my power manifested, my mother forbade me from using it in front of anyone, insisting I’d be snatched away from my family and used as some sort of political pawn.

” I snorted a laugh because despite my mother’s best efforts, that was basically what had happened since leaving Stryi.

“But I wanted to know exactly what I could do. Priestess Anara wasn’t exactly forthcoming with her magic lessons for females, so I did some experimenting on my own.

Which when I hadn’t even come of age yet, obviously didn’t go well. ”

Rokath rubbed his palms together as he listened, mulling over my words as I revealed more of myself to him.

“I attempted to mimic my father’s magic. There was an especially large rock that was proving difficult to plant around, and I thought with my burgundy eyes, if I could use his power, I could blast it apart and then it wouldn’t be in the way anymore.”

“What color were his eyes?” Rokath asked.

“Scarlet. Nothing too strong,” I told him.

“So you weren’t able to do anything to the rock?” he clarified.

I shook my head. “No, I barely succeeded in wobbling it with my primary magic too.”

Rokath glanced over my head at the stands where males lounged and watched the others fighting below them. “Each secondary power feels different from each other. For me, I have to Call the dead using that shockwave of shadow. I’m assuming for you, you have to use a lot more mental acuity.”

He rose slowly. “Wait here.”

Disappearing around the corner, he left me sitting on the bale of hay for several minutes. When he reappeared, he had two males in tow, with Rapp trailing behind them. “Tell her how you call on your secondary power,” he said to the two.

Rapp took a seat beside me. “I’m very intrigued by this possibility. Two Callers? Two Binders? Two Rifters? Doubling our most powerful would make a huge difference.”

Hope bloomed in my chest. Perhaps this was what I was meant to do all along. If I could manage to Call alongside Rokath, the whole army—Fates, all of Keleti—would tremble beneath my might.

A ruby-eyed male stepped forward, drawing me out of my excitement.

He cleared his throat, glancing between Rokath and me.

“I am a Corrupter. For me to utilize my power, I have to focus on how I want something to decay. For instance, this stone,” he pointed to the walls of the fortress, “is a more difficult target because it is difficult to embody the properties of a stone since it doesn’t live like we do, if that makes sense.

Whereas with plants, it’s far easier. I’ll show you. ”

From the stack sequestered off to the side, he grabbed another bale of hay.

Hovering his hand above it, darkness dripped down.

“Right now I am thinking about what the hay used to be like before it was cut, how even now it is still a strong shade of yellow. But I want it to blacken. So I switch my vision to that instead.”

Sure enough, the top bits started turning brown and curling in on themselves, eventually fading to a sickly hue. Then, he pulled his hand back.

Rokath motioned me forward, and I approached the three males. “First, try to pull his form to you. Then, see if you can imitate his magic.”

Nodding, I turned my attention to the ruby-eyed male.

He had a medium build, with the typical cropped hair of the soldiers.

My scrutiny went to the finer details of his face, and, to his credit, he assisted me.

Tilting his head this way and that, he allowed me to take full stock of him.

Then, he spun a slow circle. Satisfied that I had a clear enough image of him, I called on my magic.

Onyx rose and fell in time with my breath, and then he stared at his reflection.

The clothing, at least, came out intact. I grinned at the male I was impersonating. His eyes widened, along with the others’, as they beheld my power up close.

I ignored their wonder and focused on my task. I had to master this, to show them how useful I could be.

Positioning my hand over the hay, I painted a picture of onyx dropping like rain onto it and blackening each straw. I willed the stalks to shrivel, to grow sickly instead of green.

Everyone’s gazes bored into me, pricking my skin with their attention. Their expectation. Sweat rolled down my temple as I focused, yet no matter how much of my power I poured into it, nothing happened.

Frustration rose, and I gritted my teeth, giving it one last shove.

Still, the yellow did not die. With an aggravated sigh, I released it all, returning to my body. “I don’t think it’s possible.” My throat thickened, and I studied my mother’s ring rather than meet my mate’s gaze.

“Let’s try a different power,” Rokath suggested. “That’s why I retrieved two different ones. We have to be sure.”

The second had kind garnet eyes and was soft spoken.

He quickly explained his Chaos powers and how he bypassed the conscious mind of his opponents to cause confusion.

Once again, I pulled a new form around me.

At least that facet of my magic received a thorough exercise, even if I was failing at others.

Others that were the difference between life and death.

Swallowing, I focused on what the male had said about his power. Our eyes locked, I attempted to force his capabilities back onto him.

After several minutes of yanking on the threads of darkness, he shook his head. “There is nothing.”

I dropped my hold immediately, spine now slick with sweat. My magic was nothing more than smoky wisps, nearly extended to its maximum. My well hadn’t been this empty since the early days of the conscription.

Yet disappointment washed over me at my abject failure. What if I couldn’t mimic their magic? Or anyone else’s?

Rokath grunted and then dismissed the two.

Tears burned my eyes and I swiped the backs of my wrists at them before anyone could see. My mate rested a hand on my shoulder, circling me around to face him.

“At least we tried and now we know,” he told me, his tone even and almost reassuring.

“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice fractured. “Maybe it’s only certain types of magic I can imitate. We can keep trying until we find it.”

Rokath shook his head and steered me to sit beside Rapp on the bale of hay. “Every power has limits. This is yours. And no one will respect you less because you can’t imitate their magic.”

His words were a balm to my anxiety. The love sweeping down our bond soothed the ache further.

Rapp elbowed me in the side, drawing my attention. “We win some battles, we lose others. What’s most important is that in the end, we win the war. Your magic is powerful enough to help with that, and we’ll figure out how to use it best.”

“Thanks,” I sighed, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand.

Rokath crossed his arms across his broad chest and settled into a deeper stance. “We’ll keep training, every day, to ensure you can fight, both with your magic and weapons. I have other ideas to try that might assist you. But with the gong about to sound, we don’t have time for that today.”

“How do you know–” I started, but my words were smashed by the ringing he foretold.

Rapp laughed, clutching his side to support his ribs. “Just like old times.”

Rokath rolled his eyes and hoisted his friend to his feet. “After decades, you get used to it,” he told me. Then, together, the three of us streamed behind the other males leaving the training arena for the cool walls of the military academy’s fortress.