Page 56 of The Blood Crown (The Blood Folk #2)

Chapter 55

A urelia stared down at the circle of iron, sweat slicking her palms.

Just a piece of metal , she reminded herself.

Nothing more. Not yet.

Hathos had delivered the bag of coins to her just moments ago, identical patterns stamped into them as the original. Whether the markings on the coins of atonement made any difference in their potency—the books had been unclear.

All of them had been unclear. And she’d read dozens; about the history of the Etheri, how they shaped and wielded their magick— her magick. But there was no explanation for how they’d funneled their power into the iron coins.

Picking up one of the heavy disks, she gripped it tightly between her hands.

It was just like all her practice on the Ledge, really. Simply a matter of focusing an arc of lightning so narrow, so accurate, that there was nowhere else for it to go.

Closing her eyes, she blew out a breath, focusing every ounce of energy on putting her magick into the small target.

She was a summer storm. She was roiling clouds and rumbles of thunder. She was light and heat and vast, endless power that charged the night sky.

Crackling heat poured out of her hands, snapping at her fingertips as it connected with the iron and seemed to be swallowed by the coin, but it wasn’t enough.

Gritting her teeth—her fingers white for how hard they gripped the edges of the coin, she funneled every ounce of sizzling power in her veins, her skin flushing as her blood seemed to simmer and boil.

She thought back to the blast of magick she’d created in that dark, beautiful place with Ven and more of it coursed through her body, heating the iron in her palms until it singed her skin—but it wasn’t nearly enough.

Blisters erupted on her palms, and she was breathless with the pain as she clenched her teeth against it, pouring everything she was into this singular piece of metal clasped between her fingertips.

Just a moment more . . .

Light poured from her hands, her eyes blazing with the white-gold power.

Heat evaporated the sweat that dripped down her brow as she siphoned her magick, blistering—scorching.

A cry ripped through her throat as her fingers finally released the edges of the iron.

Metal rang against the stone floor, the coin spinning at her feet.

Raising shaking hands, she looked at the red, blistered skin of her palms—and picked up another.