Page 46 of Raven Rebel (Sablewood #1)
Luce spun, swinging sideways, and when she blocked the second powerful blow, it threw her off balance.
She stepped back, but he pressed forward, and she could not regain her footing.
Struggling to block and also catch herself, Meara tumbled to the ground.
She attempted to scramble up, but a spear pressed into her chest, forcing her to lay back.
“What will you do now?” he said, each word a threat.
Meara braced herself and threw her consciousness outward, drawing up all the shreds of magic until darkness swirled around her.
If she was lucky, she could blind him until she could get away.
With all the conviction she had, she flung the shadows at him.
Darkness rushed upward, and Luce stepped back.
She wasted no time rolling away and leaping to her feet.
When the shadows dropped away, Luce sought her out and nodded his approval. “Well done. It is a start.”
Vasara rubbed her hands over her arms. “That felt like a waking nightmare.”
Brenna shivered, plastering an encouraging smile as she looped her arm with Meara’s. “That was fantastic. I think you’ve earned a good meal. Is there food to be had?”
“Yes, I need a drink after that,” Vasara huffed.
As they entered the manor house, Luce excused himself, leaving the four of them to lounge around the small dining room. Harin sent for food, and Ayala joined them as it was delivered.
Unease still churned in Meara’s gut, but she had to admit she was slowly warming to Ayala’s friends in the Summer Court.
They ate seasoned and steamed river fish over a bed of greens dressed with lemon and oil. The bitter, sour taste cut through the oily fish. Vasara produced a white tea that tasted like sunshine with a hint of blueberry and rosemary.
Harin shared about his recent visit to the Observatory and the art and music being produced.
Brenna was fully relaxed and giggled in response to his storytelling.
Meara wished she could trust their companions and enjoy herself the way Brenna did.
Only when she glanced up and met her gaze did Brenna’s brow pinch with concern.
Back in their room, Meara watched Brenna while she fussed over their dresses. She sighed, having had enough. “What is your concern?”
“Nothing,” Brenna said, her answer too quick.
“Brenna.” Meara crossed her arms.
Her sister huffed and perched on the end of the bed. Meara waited. Brenna pressed her lips into a line, fiddling with her fingers in her lap. Finally, she spoke. “I’m so happy you figured out how to access your magic, but it felt dark.”
“It’s shadows,” Meara deadpanned.
“It felt scary. Terrifying actually.”
Unsure of what to do with that information, Meara stood and turned in place, considering walking out of the door.
Brenna rose, moving behind her. “I’m not sure demonstrating that magic in front of a bunch of faeries we don’t know is wise. Perhaps you should learn to separate the shadows from that awful feeling before you go showing them off.”
Twisting to face her, Meara snapped, “I don’t have any intention of showing off my magic. I’m not going to parade around with a fireball in hand every chance I get.”
Brenna froze, hurt filling her eyes. “I understand.” Her words were clipped, and she spun away, grabbing the hairbrush and plopping into the seat before the dressing table.
“I’m sorry,” Meara said, crossing to her and crouching beside her chair. “I know you're watching out for me. I appreciate you being conscious of those things.”
An angry tear tracked down her cheek as Brenna stubbornly ignored her and dragged a brush through her hair. Meara laid her arm across her sister’s lap and rested her chin on it. After a few minutes, Brenna brushed her fingers over Meara’s hair.
“I know it’s been hard for you not having your magic while mine came so easily. I wish I could have done more to help.”
“Nonsense, there is nothing you could have done, and you’ve been there with me the whole time,” Meara said with a forced smile. “ Let’s take a walk in the fields before dinner. I want to see the preparations for tomorrow’s celebration.”
The girls wandered the estate, rested and ate, and when Brenna was distracted with a book, Meara snuck into the empty bedroom and summoned her shadows.
Her heart raced as they gathered around her.
It felt effortless, though she tired quickly.
If this was how Brenna’s flames felt, no wonder she was displaying them so readily. Exhaustion snuck up on her.
The second morning, Ayala joined them for breakfast and the girls enjoyed quiet companionship. The three of them waited, knowing that at some point, Cerne and hopefully Tayen would join them.
Meara locked herself in the spare bedroom and spun shadows around her fingers, let them swirl around her ankles and crawl up the feet of the bed frame she sat perched on.
It felt freeing, though her anxiety rose when she thought about showing this magic to others.
Not after even her sister recoiled from it.
When the daylight began to fade, Ayala proclaimed they should get ready for Samhain, and the dumb boys would arrive whenever they managed to get their asses there.
Brenna begged Meara to let her style her hair, and Meara acquiesced.
She spent the better part of an hour braiding her hair into a complex design that dripped down the back of her head over a layer that Brenna had left loose.
Once she was done, they had little time left to change, and both girls struggled into their dresses and took turns doing up their laces.
“Lovely,” Brenna murmured, running her hands down the bronze silk of her skirts.
Lace ran from the waist up over her breasts, providing structure to the dress that was otherwise nothing more than layers of diaphanous silk flowing over her body.
A slit ran up her thigh, but she seemed unbothered by it.
Meara glanced at herself in the mirror, wondering if Dyani had sensed something about her magic.
Her dress was cut much the same, but thin vines snaked over her chest and shoulders, draping down her back and merging to hold the dress together.
It was perfect for a harvest celebration, except for the fact everything was a dusky gray, so the vines looked like shadows crawling over her skin.
Brenna held out a piece of black molded fabric, and Meara frowned at it. “What is this?”
“It’s your mask. Here.” Brenna raised it to her eyes, and Meara pressed it in place while Brenna tied the ribbon into her hair. Turning, she took in the silk arching over the bridge of her nose, dipping around her eyes, and lifting up at the corners with a design that mimicked feathers.
“What am I?” She tilted her head.
“I don’t know. A blackbird?”
“What are you?”
Brenna held up a gold mask that curled around her eyes and met with a sunburst tiara. She settled it into her hair and grinned. “Do I look like a princess?”
“Always,” Meara said, her mood lightening at her sister’s joy.
“Are you two ever ready on time?” Ayala snapped. She wore a gold dress that Meara recognized as one of her favorites. It clung to her skin as if it was wet, showing every curve of her lean body.
Brenna rolled her eyes and smiled, striding after Ayala with a confidence that warmed Meara’s heart. Hopefully this would be an enjoyable evening.