Page 15 of Ink Sworn (Greatdrakes #3 | The Fae Universe #24)

Y elena spent the following two days angry. Her magic wasn't working properly with the loss of her hand, no matter how much she practiced. She was furious at the way Valentine had provoked her, but most of all the way she had reacted to him.

Since Taranis had brought her to the mountain city, she had done everything she could to be calm and in control. Being around Valentine made her feel like she was losing that fight.

Something had shifted between them since he had rescued her.

Having him in her chambers had made the air feel volatile, like one stray spark would set everything on fire.

She could still smell his scent, taste his blood in her mouth.

She didn't know if she wanted to kiss him or tear him apart or both.

Yelena had thought it best to stay away from everyone until she could learn to stabilize her power again.

Taranis had warded this part of the palace to ensure whatever magic she did wouldn't leak out into the rest of the city.

She had placed her own protections over them, and none of it had stopped Valentine.

He shouldn't have made it to her stairs.

The wards had just let him pass without a fight.

It worried her that the magic recognized him.

Mate , her dragon growled.

"He's not our mate. We don't have mates," Yelena snapped at it.

The dragon sent a wave of yearning and images of the way he had looked at her, so angry, but his eyes burning with desire.

The dragon wanted to climb inside his skin and live there.

It wanted to fly into the high mountains and fuck him with nothing but stars and snow around them.

"You're imagining things," she muttered under her breath.

Yelena wasn't a virgin. She had taken lovers over the years, fae who lived outside of the city and who had no idea who or what she really was.

Somehow, it had always been unsatisfying.

Imogen had taught her the term 'ace', but Yelena didn't think that was right to explain her either. There was no term to explain the way magic gave her a deeper rush of pleasure than sex ever had, so she had given up on the idea of lovers long ago.

It was one of the many reasons why she found her reaction to Valentine Greatdrakes so confusing. She had never felt that kind of desire before and didn't know if that was the reason she was so unbalanced in more ways than her magic.

Yelena had pushed that desire from her mind and torn through her books, trying to find anything that would help her balance her magic. There was nothing useful.

The magic was there, but casting even the smallest of spells went haywire. She had thrown Valentine out of her room. She had been angry, and she hadn't given it a thought. Trying to do anything intentional wasn't working.

She wanted to tie Valentine up and make him help her.

She never should have let him leave. She should have made him stay and talk it out until they were calm and could be friends again.

Just having him to bounce ideas off would help her think, but she didn't know if he would talk to her at all after their stupid fight.

Yelena lay back on her couch and rubbed at the aching in her arm.

The skin had healed over the stump of her wrist thanks to the healer's magic and elixirs, but it still jolted her when she looked at it.

She would forget it was missing and try to pick something up, only to be hit with its loss all over again.

She had heard of phantom limbs, but experiencing it for herself was eerie and devastating at the same time.

It could be worse. You haven’t lost your magic altogether. You just need to adjust.

Valentine could help—she knew it—and hated that too.

Yelena missed the Valentine from their letters. It had always been so much easier when they were writing to each other. Why was talking face-to-face so much harder than it had to be?

Yelena sat up again and tore a piece of paper out of her journal. She didn't trust the fire messaging to work, so sending a note with a servant would have to do.

She had always been ambidextrous, but her handwriting was shakier with her left hand.

She tapped her pen against her chin, wondering where to start.

She wasn't going to apologize for what she had said or for throwing him out of her rooms. It had been that or kiss him, and she didn't know if he would welcome that, whatever her dragon thought.

Yelena gave up trying to think of something clever and witty and chose honesty.

Valentine,

My magic is a mess with the loss of my hand. I don't trust anyone but you to help me with it. They won't understand my power, and it will only scare them. You don't scare so easily .

In return, I will help you integrate your dragon and magic. It's unhealthy to keep it locked up anymore, and it's only hurting you.

We are no good for Taranis and protecting Mag Argatnél in this state. I miss my friend, but you're welcome to stay angry with me if you'd like. It doesn't mean we can't work together.

Deal?

Yelena.

She contemplated signing it off as Caelan but thought it might provoke him unnecessarily. When the servants came with tea and her daily healing elixirs, she gave them the note to pass on to him.

A short time later, a letter scorched with Valentine's magic landed on her desk.

Yelena,

I have something that might help.

Order dinner for two tonight, and I'll be there.

Valentine.

Yelena lifted the paper to her nose and breathed in the ginger citrus smell of him.

She smiled, her first in days. She looked around at the state of her chambers, and the smile slid off her face.

If she was going to have a visitor, she was going to have to do something about the state of it.

She looked down at her rumpled clothes and realized she hadn't bathed in days, either.

She had been too manic to remember to do it.

At least cleaning was something she could do without her magic backfiring on her. With a sigh, she got up and got to work.