Page 29

MASTER THE DUALITY OF POWER (WHILE FIGHTING ATTRACTION)

ARABELLA

“Again.”

I gritted my teeth, sweat running down my face. The lily on the table trembled under my stare, as vibrant and alive as when I’d started. After a week of escalating magical exercises, my fingertips buzzed with a power I barely understood.

Kazimir’s voice came from somewhere behind me, smooth and maddeningly calm. “You’re still hesitating. The magic’s there, Arabella, but you refuse to channel it correctly.”

“I’m trying ,” I snapped, flicking a damp strand of hair from my face.

“You’re not.”

He stepped around the table, leaning against its edge. He looked so infuriatingly composed in his black tunic, while I felt like I’d been dragged backwards through a thornbush.

“You’re scared of your own potential,” he pressed. “You’ve spent your life healing and creating. You think tapping that same source to destroy is unnatural.”

I clenched my fists. “I’m not afraid.”

His mouth slid into a half-smile. “Then prove it.”

There sat the lily, mocking me. Healing was effortless—mending injuries, soothing fevers—simple. But I couldn’t bring myself to crush something that had done me no harm, even if it was just a flower. Every fiber of my being screamed no.

Kazimir leaned forward, hands splayed on the table. “Stop acting like destruction is a violation. It’s transformation. The same energy, just reversed.”

I let out a harsh breath. “Easier said than actually done.”

“You’re overthinking.” He circled until he stood beside me. “May I?” He lifted his hand as though asking permission to guide my own.

A reluctant curiosity bloomed inside me. “Fine.” I tried to sound dismissive, but my pulse throbbed in my throat. Part of me craved to learn exactly how far I could push my magic.

He positioned his hands just above mine, and a charge sparked between our palms.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed, his voice dropping, a little too intimate for my liking.

I complied with a sharp exhale, half-suspicious, half-eager.

“Now, tell me what happens when you heal.”

“I reach out,” I said slowly, “find the injured parts, and give them what they need to mend.”

“Excellent.” A hint of approval colored his tone. “But you’re forgetting that you’re a conduit, not the source. The energy isn’t strictly yours. It’s drawn from the life force around you.”

I felt his fingertips shift closer; the air between our hands crackled.

“When you heal, you channel energy toward the target. This time, I want you to do the opposite—pull it out .”

I stiffened. It sounded so simple, but it went against everything I’d ever associated with magic.

Still, I remembered dark moments: guards doubling over after touching my bedroom door, or one of Kazimir’s henchmen collapsing the day he kidnapped me.

My power had lashed out reflexively, draining them.

“That’s it,” Kazimir encouraged, his voice quiet. “You’ve done this before.”

His lingering presence sent my heart hammering, but I focused on the lily.

I pictured reclaiming its life instead of gifting it.

A tug, an inversion, the same gentle push I used for healing, but in reverse.

Warmth buzzed up my arms. Then, the lily shriveled before me, its petals blackening, stem drooping. Within seconds, it was dust.

I jerked away from Kazimir, my breath stuttering. “I didn’t— I?—”

“Yes, you did ,” he said flatly, but I detected satisfaction in his voice. “And beautifully.”

Staring at the scorched remnants, I felt a swirl of horror and exhilaration. That surge of power coiled inside me, potent as good wine.

“How does it feel?” he asked, his gaze boring into me.

I swallowed. “Terrible,” I lied, before admitting, “and... amazing.”

He actually chuckled, and the sound held no mocking edge, just genuine pride. “The duality of power. Creation and destruction.”

I wanted to argue that simply because it was easy didn’t make it right. But my pulse, still high from the taste of that stolen vitality, contradicted me.

Kazimir moved away and rummaged through a shelf, returning with a small cage that held a white mouse. My stomach sank.

“No,” I hissed. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s a logical next step,” he said. “Same principle, more complexity.”

I stepped back, crossing my arms. “I’m not killing an innocent creature just to show off.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You eat meat, don’t you? This mouse was bred for magical use and destined to be fed to Griffin’s familiars.”

I pressed my lips into a tight line. “I’m not doing it,” I repeated.

“Fine.” With a shrug, he replaced the cage. “We can revisit that lesson another day.”

Relief flooded me as he set the mouse aside. Even with my newfound destructive power thrumming, I was grateful I wasn’t forced to kill it.

“Let’s try something else.” He gestured to the arcane circle. “Join me.”

I followed him slowly, still tingling with leftover adrenaline.

“You saw what that inverted healing did to a flower,” he said once we stood inside. “Now watch what dominion magic can achieve.”

Shadows gathered around his boots, swirling upward like living smoke. He lifted his hands. Black tendrils wove themselves into the shapes of wolves, their eyes shining that stormy gray that matched Kazimir’s own. They prowled the perimeter of the circle, appearing unnervingly real.

I’d seen him use dominion magic in patches before, but never like this. My chest tightened. He truly looked like a villain from a fever-dream story, except I was uncomfortably aware of how enticing I found the command in his posture, the way raw power seemed to vibrate around him.

“Dominion is about control,” he said, voice taut. “Bending the world to your purpose. It demands certainty, and the boldness to shape reality as you see fit.”

The wolves solidified until I swore I heard their breathing. A chill prickled over my skin.

“Impressive,” I said, letting some awe slip into my voice. “But beyond terrifying people, what’s the practical use?”

A chilling grin spread across his face, and his eyes glowed faintly silver. My stomach flipped over in a traitorous swirl of attraction. I hated that I was drawn to the darkness in him, but denying it felt pointless.

“They can scout, defend, fight. And this”—he flicked his wrist, dissolving the wolves into a vortex that spun around us—”is just the visible side.

” Energy thrummed in the air, causing small objects around the room to vibrate.

The vortex pulled into a tight sphere between his palms, flickering with tiny pinpricks of stars. A universe in miniature.

“The real power,” he said evenly, “is how dominion can reshape entire landscapes.”

The darkness expanded, enveloping us. Suddenly, I wasn’t in the training chamber anymore, but standing on a vast plain lit by twin moons. Crystalline structures as tall as trees rose around us. Everything looked surreal, dreamlike.

“Is this real?” I murmured, reaching for the nearest crystal tree. My hand passed straight through.

“It’s a vision,” Kazimir answered, his voice echoing over walls that weren’t there. “A possible reality I could make tangible with the right power.”

The scene blurred and became an altered vision of Solandris’s capital. The palace was dark stone, the gardens glowed with strange luminescent blooms, and overhead hovered Kazimir’s own citadel like a shadowy sun.

“You want to remake Solandris into this ?” I asked, turning to him.

“When I conquer it,” he corrected, “I intend to tear out the corruption and build something better.”

The illusions wavered, then vanished. We stood once more in the training room, the wards and dusty floors reappearing around us. Kazimir lowered his hands, the glow dimming in his eyes.

“It was... eye-opening,” I conceded. I wasn’t about to stroke his ego further, no matter how mesmerizing the display had been.

A laugh escaped him. “High praise indeed.” He took one step back into the center of the circle, arms crossed. “Your turn. Show me what your magic can do, unhindered.”

My heart pounded. I’d spent so long masking whatever unorthodox talents I had. Even healing was only acceptable because it seemed benign—my father’s attempt to make me useful while maintaining a veneer of virtue.

“You saw the lily,” I started, “and you know I won’t drain a live mouse?—”

“Then pick a different focus.”

I bit my lip, scanning the training chamber. “I need something that’s already dead.”

Kazimir raised a brow, then left briefly. He returned carrying a small, cloth-wrapped bundle. When he set it on the table, I saw it was a dead robin.

“Flew into a tower window,” Kazimir said. “Griffin found it earlier. It must have gotten swept up in the storms below the citadel.”

I swallowed, lifting the little bird’s limp body. “I’m not sure what’ll happen,” I warned him.

“Just be careful,” he said softly. “And don’t injure yourself.”

Ignoring the uneasy flutter in my gut, I closed my eyes.

The room teemed with leftover magic from Kazimir’s displays, an environment saturated with potential.

Slowly, I tapped into that energy, letting it flow through me the way healing magic always had—except this time, I aimed it into a vessel past saving.

The bird twitched. My eyes flew open. The robin’s wings flapped once, then again. Its clouded eyes opened, fixating on me in a way that felt both eerie and enthralling.

Behind me, Kazimir inhaled sharply. I realized his posture had gone rigid with surprise.

Maintaining the connection felt like juggling streams of lightning. My veins crackled as I fed the bird an imitation of life, not true resurrection but an echo.

I opened my palms, and the robin fluttered upward, circling the training room with uneven sweeps. Each small course-correction was a thread tugging on my soul.

“Necromancy,” Kazimir breathed, wonder creeping into his tone.

“I wouldn’t call it that,” I muttered, though the lines were definitely blurred. “It’s more like replicating function rather than actual life.”

“Semantics,” he countered, but his eyes gleamed with respect.

The bird flitted back to my arm, perching with unsettling precision. Stopping it was as simple as letting the borrowed magic slip away. The moment I severed the connection, the robin slumped back into death.

A wave of exhaustion slammed into me. My vision flickered for a moment, and cold sweat dampened my neck.

Kazimir calmly rewrapped the tiny corpse, but I sensed the wheels turning behind his storm-gray eyes.

“How long have you done this?” he asked.

I shrugged, refusing to sound too impressed with myself. “Stumbled upon it when I was younger. My estate was half-rotten, so it wasn’t rare to find dead mice or birds in corners.”

“And you hid it from everyone,” he said, gentleness creeping into his voice. “Death magic, or anything like it, could have gotten you branded a heretic.”

I nodded, trying not to sway from fatigue. “My father didn’t need more excuses to punish me.”

Kazimir set down the bundle and took a step closer. “You did well. Possibly better than I expected.”

I met his gaze, acutely aware of how close he was. The silver flecks in his eyes still shimmered, sending a twist of heat through my stomach. “I told you, I’m not just some helpless noble.”

His gaze flicked to my lips, then back up again. “And I’m starting to believe it.”

The thickening tension in the air made me wonder what his next step would be—kiss me? Mock me? Demand I raise an army of undead nightingales? The more we pressed each other, the less certain I was of anything.

To save face—and possibly my sanity—I stepped back. “That’s enough for one day. I’m tired.”

Kazimir studied me for a moment, disappointment overshadowed by acceptance. “Tomorrow, then. We’ll see how far you can push that power.”

I rolled my eyes. “What is it with you and testing people to their limits?”

He didn’t answer, just offered an arm in that mocking show of courtesy he loved. “I’ll walk you back to our tower.”

“I can manage fine,” I started to say, but then a wave of dizziness rolled through me. I staggered, and Kazimir caught my elbow.

“Clearly,” he said wryly, “you’re brimming with stamina.”

My scowl was half-hearted; I genuinely needed the support to stay upright. “Fine,” I relented, “but I’m not collapsing just to amuse you.”

He smiled—a real smile, not his usual smirk. “Heavens forbid I find any amusement in my wife.”

We made it to the corridor just as frantic footsteps echoed from around the corner. A disheveled messenger skidded into view, panting. The second he spotted Kazimir, he dropped into a half-bow.

“My lord,” he wheezed. “Urgent correspondence from Solandris.”

Kazimir’s eyes narrowed. “From the king?”

“No, my lord. From Lord Evenfall.”

My father. Of all the names that could rip me out of my haze, that one did the job. My spine prickled with dread. Was he demanding my return? Threatening petty vengeance? Or informing Kazimir that I was disowned, no longer his concern?

That last idea had merit.

I stepped forward, hoping the letter was somehow meant for me. But the messenger held the silver tray toward Kazimir alone. My father had written directly to him, not even acknowledging my role in this twisted marriage. The sight made me want to shred the parchment.

Kazimir broke the seal and read. His expression darkened to something harder.