Page 68 of Spark of Sorcery

“Do you not like to be touched, is that it?” I whisper.

There was a small boy like that who lived a few houses down from us. He couldn’t stand to be touched. Even by his own mother. He’d howl and scream, kicking and biting. Is Thorne wired the same way?

He stands up straight, but his eyes don’t leave mine.

“I … I don’t know,” he says. “I haven’t been touched for a long, long time.”

“Can I …” I hesitate. Am I doing the right thing? “Can I touch you?”

He slams shut his eyes and his magic spikes violently, so violently it’s like a shock against my skin and I fall away from him.

“Shit,” he says, his hands suddenly pulling at his short hair, “shit, shit. I’m sorry.”

He tugs on his hair, his eyes screwed shut, his shoulders heaving.

“Thorne?”

He lifts a hand as if asking for a moment. Then gradually his breathing becomes more even, his hands fall away from his face, he stands rigid once more and opens his eyes.

“It’s too dangerous,” he says.

“What is?” I say.

“I can’t touch you.” His chest rises and falls. “I can’t touch anyone because it’s too dangerous.”

“Too dangerous? What does that mean?”

“I would hurt them, maim them.” He stares right at me. “Possibly kill them.”

My gaze falls to his hands. “The gloves,” I say, finally understanding. “It’s why you always wear the gloves.”

“It helps,” he explains.

“But,” I swivel round on the floor, “canItouchyou?”

That flash in his eyes again. I understand what it means now. He’s wrestling to maintain his control. “No,” he says simply. “No, you can’t.”

“Oh,” I say, disappointment spiraling through my stomach. I hadn’t realized just how much I did want to touch him until that choice was taken away. “Well,” I say grumpily, “that isn’t very fair.”

His mouth twitches. “No, but it’s what I deserve.” I think he’s going to say more, but then his attention is distracted by the stone. His eyes grow wide.

I swing my gaze that way too, just in time to see the stone breaking apart before the fire.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Beaufort

I click my fingers and the desk lamp switches on as I uncurl the tiny note and position it under the magnifying glass. I scan my gaze over the text, decoding the message in my head, then slump back in my chair, swinging it from side to side as I tap my fingers against the arms.

There’s been a major infraction through the magical barriers to the East of the realm. The Empress wants some of the most elite and most powerful shadow weavers from the academy to be sent to help drive the dark forces back and repair the damage. She sees it as a good training opportunity.

I scoff. They’ve been finding these suitable training exercises ever since Dray turned eighteen and the bond between the three of us formed and it became clear just howdamn powerful we would be. Reading between the lines, the ‘infraction’ must be a major breach of our defenses.

Technically we shouldn’t be allowed to face any kind of potentially life-threatening missions until we have graduated from Firestone. But they’ve been breaking those rules when it comes to us for years now.

I crumple the small note in my fist and toss it towards the fire in the corner of the room. It catches in the flames immediately and is ash in a matter of seconds.

I never used to have a problem with this situation. Missions, while dangerous, are what I live for. The adrenaline, the thrill make me feel more alive than anything ever has done.