Page 29 of Of Blood and Banes (The Arterian #2)

The rain picks up in speed, hissing on the ground. He hesitates and slowly draws his face back to mine.

“What are you doing out here? You…” I sigh. “You hate the rain?”

His throat bobs as he swallows. “I do.”

“Then why are you out here?”

“Because I hate the rain.”

“I…I’m not following.”

He takes a deep inhale through his nose, allowing the jacket to rest on my head as he folds his hands into his lap. His angled brows lower over his lashes as he stares at his scarred fingers.

“I…” he laughs, though it doesn’t lessen the anguish in his face. “It sounds stupid. I could tear myself apart for you. But no matter how hard I might try, I can’t seem to tear myself away from you.”

I knit my eyebrows, still confused.

He tosses a glance my way, recognizes my confusion, and continues, “Every time it rained after I thought you died back in Padmoor, I was haunted by the memories of you. Of our first?—”

“Dance,” I breathe, realization flooding me.

We got caught in the Northern Forest in a torrential downpour years ago.

Stuck with nothing but each other. He pulled me into his arms to warm me, and one thing after the next, we transformed into slow dancing as the rain sang a beat against the forest floor.

Gods, it was…it was the most romantic moment I’d ever had in my life.

Despite it being so fleeting anyone else would have thought that we were godsdamned crazy.

He nods, a small smile splitting his sad features.

But the smile fades as quick as it appears.

“And after you died, I’d return to the forest every time it rained.

I’d sit at the river and think of you. I’d reflect on every last breath I shared with you.

Every smile, every laugh, every kiss, and every touch.

When I returned to the outpost, they never asked questions. ”

Because when they looked at him—wet cheeks, runny nose, and reddened eyes—they might have thought it was from the rain. Not from tears.

He continues, “I had to hide my agony from losing you because I had to lead this squad. They couldn’t possibly know how much I was struggling.

I hated the rain before I met you. But as I got to know you…

as I fell in love with you…I began to love it.

No matter how much it hurt me when you were gone.

Because this is what I could have of you.

” He motions out to the hazy forest. “The color of your eyes when you wore gray. I could sit and remember our times together for hours and not be disturbed. It was the closest I could feel to you…even if you were gone.”

Pulling a silent breath between my lips, I watch the rain streaming down his brow, his sharp cheekbones, his jaw. I reach out, rest a hand on his, and pull his attention lost on the river back to me.

“You’re engaged,” I remind him softly, nodding my head like it’ll also convince me our story is over. “Celeste is a lovely woman, and you’re promised to her.”

His jaw flexes, holding me in his gaze with a sincerity that stabs me in the chest. “I made that promise before I knew you were alive.”

“It doesn’t void it. Your word is your word?—”

“My word means nothing if it’s not for you.

” He huffs, searching my eyes. “I tried. I drafted hundreds of letters to her, trying to find the right words to express I could no longer marry her. And all I could write was I was meant for someone else. I was meant for you . Marrying her would only hurt her. She deserves someone who will love her with everything they have. And I have nothing to give her. All I have left is blood and banes. Because every breath, beat, and part of what makes me, me, has already been given to you.”

“Cole…”

He shakes his head, his voice growing taut. “No. Don’t…please don’t say anything more. Not in that tone. Not unless you’re saying you’re still in love with me.”

I rub a thumb against the back of his hand; my throat constricts, overwhelmed by emotion. I have to break eye contact, looking down at our hands so I can force out the next words. “Maybe you need to let me go. Maybe you shouldn’t love me.”

He looks up at the sky before squeezing his eyes shut. The downpour splatters against his face, rivers of water streaming down his cheeks. “I’ll be able to stop the rain…” he turns to look at me, tears slipping from his eyes, “…before I can stop loving you.”

My heart crumples with the tormented gentleness of his gaze. Gods, how much easier it would be if he stopped looking at me like that. If he stopped these confessions. It’s only making things harder. Painful.

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry…I don’t know how to fix this thing between us…” He sweeps the strands out of his face as he rakes his fingers through the crown of his head.

He glances over to me, hesitant. “I really am sorry, Katerina Blackwind. For everything.” He presses a quick kiss to my forehead, then leaves.

“Again,” Marge barks.

Groaning, I lift my head up to look her in the eyes and squint through the soft rain. “It’s not working.”

Every inch of my clothes clings to my frame, hanging on me like a cold, wet blanket.

I can’t fight against the shivering or chattering of my teeth, and seeing how unbothered Marge is grows my frustration.

We’ve been out here for hours in the middle of the night.

When I mentioned practicing in something a little more sheltered like her room, she shut me down, claiming I wasn’t quite experienced enough to pull that far away from the ley lines.

And right here, near the river, is where the magic is strongest.

“You’re not trying hard enough,” Marge retorts.

“Are you trying to piss me off?”

She splays an open hand to her side and sweeps it around the forest surrounding us. “If that’s what it’s going to take.”

I hang my head, far too exhausted to argue or fight with her. Every time I’ve pressed my palms to the earth, I’ve tried again and again to pull magic toward me. But it’s like trying to pluck a single, specific strand of hair from a horse’s tail. As it’s fucking running away from me.

My breath saws in and out of my parted mouth, clouding with the cold, wet winter air. “I’m done.”

“No, you’re not.”

That gains her another glare.

She has the unwavering confidence to stare back and taps the end of her staff underneath my chin until I’ve stretched my head back as far as it’ll go. “Close your eyes. Focus on shutting out your vision first.”

Rain smatters against my face, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Next, center your breathing. Count to ten if you have to, but slow your heart rate.”

I shake my head with my eyes still closed. “This is stupid.”

She smacks the side of my arm with her staff.

“Ouch!” I hiss but take her warning and still myself. With my eyes closed, I follow the ins and outs of my breath until it slows down my racing frustration.

“Now…” she whispers, her voice lowering closer to me. “Close off what you’re feeling. Let the rain fall away, and the coldness seeping into your bones disappear.”

Bit by bit, I let go of the sensations crowding in for my attention. Gone is the frigid damp hugging every angle of my body. The sporadic pattern of rain on my face becomes nonexistent.

“Good…” Marge’s voice is only loud enough for me to discern from the hiss of rain on the forest floor.

“Now focus everything onto that energy and pull it like you’re stitching.

Take it slow, deliberate, and steady. You are the needle, and you make the path.

The magic is your thread to make do with what you wish. Find the confidence in yourself.”

Nodding slowly, her voice and the sounds of the rain fade away and are replaced by a calm, harmonious humming.

I sag my head and shift my weight back into my hips until I’m sitting on my folded knees.

Spreading my fingers wider to call it to me, I gradually drag my hands across the wet earth to me, inch by slow inch.

Something heavy and magnetic underneath the surface moves with me, slipping a little more to my command the more intentional I am.

As I pull my grip closer to my knees, I lift my stretched hands starting with my palms, waiting for the magic beneath to follow my lead.

When it reluctantly does, I open my eyes and pull my fingers up off the ground by an inch.

A soft, wisp of blue dances underneath my hand, completely independent of the rain and pools of water surrounding the tiny flame.

My chest heaves with each breath that passes as I hold the pulled magic, and as I glance up at Marge, the flame slips and disappears back into the earth. I let my head fall back with a frustrated sigh.

“Why were you looking at me?” Marge jabs. “I’m not going to flatter you. Especially not after it took you hours to do that.”

“Of course not,” I mumble.

“Because I know you can do better.”

I straighten and sweep my heavy, wet hair off my shoulder onto my back. “That was my better. That was in fact, my best.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then don’t.” I push up to my feet. “But I’m exhausted.”

She lifts her staff and rests the end of it on my chest. “One more time. That’s all I’m asking. One more of your best.”

I flick my attention from her staff on my sternum to her, then back again.

She pushes the staff a touch harder into my chest. “King Aaric will stop at nothing to slaughter the dragons and everyone who opposes him here in the Dragon Lands. You are the only person who can take him down. Which means you will be his biggest target. If you don’t master this magic, everyone will die. You and Daeja included.”

Swatting her staff off me with a grunt, I lower back down to my knees to the temptation of mastering that pure magic. Of touching it again. “Fine. One more time.”