Page 63 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

LYDIA

“Ceenah says she won’t teach me with so many vulnerable people within reach,” Lydia told Killian the moment she returned to their room. “She plans to travel with us and teach me on the road, because we’ll be surrounded by those who can stop me, like you and Xadrian.”

Killian stared at her, then said, “It seems like a good way to get yourself killed. All it takes is one slipup, and either Xadrian or one of his soldiers will cut off your head. I already have enough problems keeping Agrippa from killing you.”

“Agrippa isn’t going to kill me.”

“I might,” came a muffled response through the wall, and Killian cursed and kicked at the bed frame. Then cursed again, this time in pain, because the bed frame was made of stone.

Lydia crossed her arms. “I want to learn from her, Killian. I need to. If this is the risk, I accept it. It’s my decision.”

Drawing in a slow breath, he said, “I… I know that you don’t want to be protected, Lydia, but standing back and watching you risk your life makes me feel sick. It makes me feel powerless and useless.”

Any anger she might have felt at his protest faded away.

“You can’t fight this battle for me, but I can’t fight it without you with any hope of victory.

” Closing the distance between them, she slipped her arms around him.

“I should say that it’s for the sake of Mudamora.

For the sake of defeating Rufina and the Corrupter.

Except the truth is that I want to win this battle for us . ”

His hands closed around her waist, pulling her closer, and heat flared in her core.

“I have your back,” he said, drawing her over to the bed and pulling her down. “But right now, I think we both need some rest.”

Rest was not what Lydia wanted, but she kicked off her boots and rested her head on the pillow. Killian lay at her back, arm wrapped around her waist and the heat of his breath on her hair. “I spoke to Xadrian.”

Lydia wrinkled her nose. “He’s obnoxious.”

“It’s an act, I think,” Killian said. “He’s worried. He feels the threat, the same as I do, and it has him on edge.”

“He said that?”

“No, but I can tell. It’s why he can’t sit still and is looking for a fight.”

Unease pooled in her stomach, and she rolled so they were facing each other. “Rufina? The blight?”

“Undoubtedly.” Killian stroked her spine. “Yet this feels like something else. It’s hard to put into words, but it feels like there has been a shift and a threat is rising.”

Her tongue felt thick with sudden fear. “The Empire?”

Killian’s silence was all the confirmation Lydia needed, and she pressed her forehead to his chest. “Teriana is in the thick of it, and there is nothing I can do to help her.”

“She’s resilient.” His hand continued to stroke up and down her back. “Madoria herself said that Teriana is where she needs to be. I don’t know why, but my gut tells me that in the fight to come, Teriana might well be the most powerful weapon we have against the Cel.”

“But at what cost?”

Killian didn’t answer, only pulled her closer. She allowed his touch to sooth her fear. To drive away thought. Except in its absence, the ache in her core rose again. An almost painful need to be closer. For there to be nothing between them at all.

Only that meant she needed to be able to take the gloves off.

The sandstorm faded overnight, and they left just before dawn the next day in the company of Ceenah, Xadrian, and a dozen Anuk soldiers.

They made camp to rest through the heat of the day, and no sooner were they settled in the shadow of an enormous dune did Ceenah snap her fingers at Lydia and say, “We begin now. Xadrian, you will be prepared for the worst, but you will only act on my signal or if I fall. Understood?”

Lydia expected the prince to protest, but Xadrian only rose to his feet and drew his weapon, saying to the soldiers, “Be at the ready.” They drew their weapons, as did Agrippa, who added, “Our friendship has been short, Lydia, but as Xadrian severs your neck and your head flies through the air, I hope you remember how much I treasured our heartfelt conversations.”

“Not helpful, Agrippa!” Malahi shouted at him, but Lydia barely noticed the argument that ensued as Killian grimly drew his own blade.

She wanted to tell him to allow Xadrian to do what needed to be done if she lost control, except it would be wasted breath.

Killian would try to stop him, and with a dozen deadly Anuk warriors, including several archers, watching him as much as her, it was not lost on Lydia that Killian’s life was as on the line as hers.

Was it right to tempt fate? Was it right to test herself when she’d failed to control herself every time in the past? It was one thing to gamble with her own life but the thought of Killian falling, body full of black fletched arrows, made her heart skitter and her breath come too quickly. “I…”

“To master yourself, you must have faith in yourself,” Ceenah declared.

The other woman pulled off her scarf and tunic, leaving her in only loose trousers and a thin undershirt that left her arms bare.

Her brown skin gleamed in the too-bright sun, arms corded with muscle that suggested she was equally deadly with the sword at her waist as she was with her mark. “Bare skin, girl.”

Lydia reluctantly removed her gloves, scarf, and tunic, folding them before setting them on the sand.

The sun baked into her skin, but it was only partially the cause of the sweat that ran in rivulets down her back.

Killian was speaking to Xadrian in low but heated tones, but the prince only shook his head.

“Ignore them,” Ceenah said. “There is no one here but you and me and the gods.”

Lydia’s skin prickled, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. She rubbed at her arms, and Ceenah gave a nod. “Yes, they are watching.”

The older woman moved closer. “When was the last time you lost total control?”

“Baird was shot by an arrow in our escape down the escarpment,” Lydia answered. “Healing him took more life than I’d anticipated, and I fainted. When I roused, I… I panicked at how weak I felt.”

Ceenah made a clicking noise of disapproval. “Healing using only that which is in oneself is a limitation of those who do not test the boundaries of their gift. Even here, surrounded by sand, there is life that is free for the taking that you might use rather than render yourself weak.”

Ceenah wasn’t wrong.

As Lydia allowed her mark to control her gaze, she saw not just the life glowing around the living but that which was present in the air. Not a fraction of what she would find in a city, but there nonetheless.

“Take it.”

Lydia reached out a hand to the mist, attempting to draw it into herself as she had when she’d healed Agrippa. “I can’t. I… I don’t need it.”

Ceenah nodded. “That is why the corrupted can’t sate themselves without taking from the living. To take from the world around you requires a need. So let’s give you one. Lord Calorian, if you would.”

Killian approached, his wariness palpable. Especially as Ceenah drew a knife. “Just a little nick. It’s nothing to the likes of you.”

“What are you going to do?” Lydia demanded.

“Create a need that you don’t just see but that you also feel .”

Anxiety sent bile burning up Lydia’s throat because that would mean touching Killian without her gloves. “Not him. I… I don’t know why, but it’s hard with Killian.”

Ceenah grunted. “Because he’s marked.” She shoved Killian back and then leveled a finger at Agrippa. “You. Come.”

To Lydia’s surprise, Agrippa didn’t argue, only motioned to Baird to sit next to Malahi and approached, silently pulling up a sleeve and holding out a bare arm. Ceenah drew the blade across the thick part of the muscle, not a nick but a deep slice. Agrippa didn’t flinch.

“Do you feel it?” Ceenah demanded.

Lydia could see the life trickling out with every drop of blood, but she felt nothing except irritation at the woman for hurting her friend.

“I feel it,” Agrippa said. “Terribly painful, and if I’m stuck with it because you can’t get this right, Lydia, I might need to reconsider our friendship.”

The queen made a noise of annoyance, then caught hold of Lydia’s hand and clapped her palm on the bleeding wound. “Do you feel it now?”

It struck Lydia with a familiar jolt. The compelling need to remedy the injury beneath her hand, but the need to take was also there, the two warring with each other. “Yes.”

“Most healers would take from themselves to fill that need,” Ceenah said, “leaving them in a deficit and weaker as a result. Their mark would passively draw life from all around them to eventually fill that deficit. Those like you and me need not wait. Take what is needed from around you and heal the wound.”

Lydia lifted her free hand, and Ceenah said, “That’s not necessary.”

“It helps,” Lydia growled, her heart thundering because trying to take from what floated around her was like trying to drink from a thimble when an entire well was beneath her opposite hand.

You can do this, she told herself. You will do it.

Looking away from Agrippa so as to not be distracted by the glow of life around him, she pulled , her breath catching as the glowing mist sped toward her outstretching fingers and into her. She immediately shoved it into Agrippa, her brow furrowing because the effort had barely slowed the bleeding.

“Again.”

Sucking in a breath, Lydia drew in life and shoved it into him, seeing some of the flesh begin to knit when she examined the wound.

“Now at the same time, and do not stop until the need is gone.”

Closing her eyes, Lydia turned her focus inward. On the beat of her heart. The rapidness of her breath. The pulse in her throat.

The need created by the wound beneath her hand.

And then that which would sate it beyond.

It came slowly at first, then faster and faster, like a river pouring into her left hand and out her right. The moment the need ceased, so did the flow.