Page 40

SHARE YOUR MAGIC (NOT YOUR FEELINGS)

KAZIMIR

I found Arabella perched on the sofa’s edge, rubbing her neck with a pained expression. Firelight touched her loose hair, creating an unfairly golden halo that only intensified the tug I felt toward her.

Her head snapped up at my entrance, eyes widening as she took in my blood-soaked appearance. A flicker of genuine worry crossed her face before she smoothed it over with deliberate neutrality.

“You look like you’ve had an interesting evening,” she said, voice steady.

I held her gaze, taking in every detail, from the way her fingers stayed curled near her throat to the subtle tremor in her posture.

She was here, perfectly safe. And here I’d just burst through the door like a madman.

A slew of confessions skittered across my mind before I snapped my usual mask back in place. I began unbuttoning my ruined shirt.

“What are you doing?” Her voice hitched slightly.

“I have entrails all over me,” I said curtly. “I’d rather not stew in them.”

“Why do you have— Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

I attempted a smirk, determined to bury those confusing impulses under my usual taunts. “If you’re curious, you could watch me undress. Otherwise, I’m taking a bath.”

She shot me a pointed look. “You could strip off in the bathing chamber instead of giving me a show.”

“Why?” I let my shirt drop with a wet plop on the floor. “This is my room, too.”

I stepped close enough for her to see the streaks of crimson drying across my scars. Her fists tightened on her lap, but she didn’t flinch.

“Are you injured?” she ventured.

I shook my head, then braced my hands on either side of her, leaning in just enough to crowd her space without touching her. She stayed planted, spine straight, gaze flickering from my chest to my face. “Good.”

Only one word, but it unclenched a knot in my chest I hadn’t realized was there. “You could join me,” I suggested.

She raised an eyebrow. “In your bath with the entrails? No thanks.”

“I’ll wash them off first. Problem solved.”

A flicker of amusement crossed her features.

The more I stared at her, the more the rest of the world receded.

Rage still simmered in my veins from the things I’d done tonight, but just looking at her alive and unbound steadied me in a way that felt treacherous.

My usually detached attitude cracked, and genuine concern poured out in my next question.

“Are you injured?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” But her face betrayed a flash of discomfort.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” I said, circling behind the sofa. “Wearing yourself out with that dragon so you’d be too tired to think about our... situation.”

“That’s not—” she began, but stopped herself.

“May I?” My hands hovered above her shoulders. After what I’d discovered tonight, I found myself uncharacteristically reluctant to touch her without permission. “No ulterior motives. Just relief.”

“I’m surprised,” she said, “that you’re not just looking for another excuse to touch me.”

I recognized the deflection as the same defensive mechanism I used when feeling vulnerable. “Is that a yes?”

Arabella gave me a long, measuring look. Then she sighed, dropping her gaze. “Fine. But no funny business.”

“You have my word,” I said, trying to sound serious and absolutely failing to kill the dark amusement in my tone.

My hands settled on her shoulders. Her muscles were knotted tight, practically twisted around her spine.

When I began kneading carefully, she made a noise that sent a shiver across my arms. The sound was almost lost in the crackle of the fire, but it carried a soft hint of pleasure that, quite frankly, I found distracting.

“Relax,” I murmured, continuing the slow, careful pressure of my thumbs.

“Your commands don’t work on me,” she retorted, but she leaned into my palms anyway, tension loosening under my touch.

“It wasn’t a command.” I leaned down, my lips almost brushing her neck. “It was an invitation.”

I dug my thumbs into a particularly stubborn knot and felt her body stiffen, then ease with a soft, involuntary groan.

Had I been capable of pure altruism, maybe I’d find it comforting to release her tension.

But I tasted a darker spark of satisfaction in giving her relief.

My motivations were a tangled mess, and I hardly cared to sort them out at that moment.

Once her muscles loosened, I lifted my hands and stepped back. I needed to rid myself of the blood crusting over my skin. “Better?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Villainy requires attention to anatomy,” I said with a smirk. “With all sorts of applications… Massaging is just one of the nicer ones.”

She shot me her customary exasperated glare. “Should I be concerned?”

“Only if you find competence threatening.” I moved toward the bathroom, shedding the rest of my bloody clothes as I went.

In the bath, I scrubbed off gore and tried to wrestle my thoughts into submission. The swirling red water reminded me of my anger when I saw that guard. As if a switch had flipped in my head, urging me to eradicate every threat to Arabella. It was a weakness I wasn’t sure I could afford.

I stepped out of the water and wrapped a towel around my waist. At least she was safe. And we had an arrangement.

When I finally emerged, Arabella was staring at the fireplace with a focus that looked forced. Her gaze flicked to my bare chest and the water droplets trickling down my torso. A faint pink color tinted her cheeks. I suppressed my smile.

“What’s making you so smug?” she asked.

Instead of answering, I opened the wardrobe to find a pair of sleeping pants. “You seemed worried,” I said, “when I walked in covered in blood.”

Her expression flickered. “I was thinking of Nyx,” she said too quickly, turning her back to the fire.

“Ah yes, the fire-breathing dragon who can eat a whole cow in a day. She looked fine when I saw her with you a few hours ago.”

“Jealous?” Arabella asked quietly, as if testing that word on her tongue.

“Yes,” I said over my shoulder. “I dislike sharing you with anything that might tear you away from me.”

I dropped my towel, catching the subtle sound of her breath hitching. Even now, some twisted part of me relished that reaction.

Arabella retreated to the window. “A little warning next time,” she muttered.

“Does my nakedness offend you so deeply?” I asked, unable to hide the teasing in my voice. “Or is the problem that it doesn’t offend you enough?”

Her cheeks colored, and she turned to face the stars. I finished toweling my hair, crossing to stand beside her. We both stared at the night sky, lightning arcs occasionally flickering along the fortress walls outside.

“What has you awake at this hour, anyway?” I asked. “I expected you to be asleep after today’s training.”

She flicked a glance at me. “Couldn’t sleep.” She bit her lip.

I snorted softly. “Maybe I should’ve slipped you another aphrodisiac-laced dinner. That worked wonders for knocking you out last time.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s not remotely funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” I muttered, tossing the towel aside.

She exhaled. “You look pensive.”

“I’ve had a long, bloody night.”

“I’m glad you’re not hurt,” she said softly.

Something in my chest tightened at that. Vague, unexpected gratitude. I turned to her. “Why are you really awake?”

Arabella hesitated. “I was just thinking about a reversal spell from our last training session. How I can’t grasp the exact feeling.”

I studied her face. “Most novices struggle with the concept, not the sensation. You’re sure that’s it?”

She gave a quick, tight smile. “I’m not most novices.”

“No,” I said, softening my voice, “you’re not.”

We stood there for a few heartbeats. Whatever she concealed behind that deflection, I let it be. “Do you want me to show you?” I asked. “It’s easier than explaining it.”

Her cautious reply came after a brief pause. “All right.”

I extended my hand, palm up. “Give me your hand.”

She placed her hand in mine, and for the slightest moment I savored the warmth of her skin. “Close your eyes,” I murmured.

She complied, her lashes dark against her cheeks. Vulnerable. Trusting.

“Magic normally bleeds outward from the caster, but reversal changes the direction.” I let a gentle thread of magic slip along the connection between our hands.

She inhaled, lips parting in surprise. “That feels…”

“I know.” I kept my voice low. “Now send it back.”

The air hummed around us as she tried to redirect it. After a moment, the faint golden threads of her power mingled with my shadow, swirling around our clasped hands. Even her hair responded, drifting on the magical current.

“Good,” I murmured. “Now, we add complexity.”

I introduced more structured patterns, letting her sense how each current layered over another.

She not only replicated them but added her own flourish, twisting the magic in a way that sent a jolt of exhilaration through me.

The energy connecting us flared with shifting lights and swirling darkness.

The temperature dipped and then rose again as the wards in the chamber reacted.

Stepping closer, I let more of my power flow into her. She gasped and grabbed my chest with her free hand to steady herself. Sparks crackled, tiny arcs of gold dancing among the black haze that enveloped us.

“Too much?” I asked, unable to hide my grin.

She shook her head, voice unsteady. “No... I—this is... educational.”

I traced a slow circle on her palm, feeling the ripple in our magical bond. Shadows pooled around our feet, thickening and thinning with every shared breath. “Open your eyes, Arabella.”

When she did, our gazes locked. My pulse pounded. Her power felt more attuned to me than I’d expected—less a forced exchange and more a collaboration. It wasn’t just about harnessing her to activate the Heirloom. I wanted to see her unleash every ounce of her potential.

“It’s not only about redirecting magic,” I said quietly. “It’s about transforming it. Taking something meant for one purpose and shifting it.”

I brushed a loose strand of hair away from her forehead. “Destruction becomes creation. Pain becomes pleasure. Hatred becomes...”

I trailed off, suddenly unwilling to finish the thought.

Her soft whisper reached me. “Becomes what?”

Instead of answering, I pushed the energy deeper, intensifying the surge between us.

She leaned into me, eyes closed again, expression caught between shock and excitement.

We both felt it when her power melded with mine, altering its dark current and reshaping it with that subtle, life-infused signature that was so undeniably hers.

The result poured into me with an electric jolt.

The shadows spiraled out, shattering a nearby vase. Neither of us cared.

“Perfect,” I said, my voice strained. I traced another circle on her palm, savoring the lingering connection between us. “You made it your own before returning it. That’s advanced work, Arabella.”

For an instant, pride lit her features. Then caution slipped back in, and she tore her hand away. The connection severed with the sound of a thunderclap, leaving the two of us panting in a dark, ordinary room.

Annoyed at the loss of that moment, I watched how she tried to steady her breathing. I wasn’t any calmer myself.

Wordlessly, we performed the usual bedtime dance.

She set up her pillow barrier on the bed, an oddly quaint defense after we’d just shared raw, unfiltered power.

But I was too wrung out to fight it. I dropped my pants and slipped under the covers on my side, turned on my elbow to watch her silhouette.

The hearth’s last embers cast ruddy highlights across her hair.

A thousand impulses crawled along my skin. I wanted to tell her about the warded tower, how my fury scorched my reason the moment I saw those runes. But the words jammed in my throat.

Instead, I asked, “What are you thinking?”

She turned to face me, propping herself on an elbow in a mirror of my position. “That reversal exercise… I’ve never felt magic that… intrusive. Like it was changing me.”

I moved one of the pillows so I could see her properly. “Reversal demands a high level of trust. That alone feels personal. You’re not just shaping external magic—you’re letting it shape you a little, too.”

She frowned. “That sounds dangerous.”

“With the wrong partner, it is,” I said, letting the admission hang between us. “Dark magic doesn’t lie. It forces us to face the cost of power. Some people can’t handle that.”

“And what price have you paid?” she asked quietly.

The question struck closer to home than she could know. The runes on my skin. The isolation. The years of believing power was the only thing that mattered. “More than I anticipated,” I admitted. “Less than I feared.”

She seemed to understand it wasn’t a full answer, but also that it was all I could offer. “We should sleep,” she said.

I replaced the pillow between us. “Sleep well, Arabella.”

“Goodnight, Lord Blackrose.”

I shut my eyes and willed myself to sink into oblivion.

Instead, thoughts of that tower, of Lord Evenfall’s wretched runes, and of how I’d felt compelled to kill in her name roiled through my mind.

The moment I realized I cared less about strategy and more about ensuring she never suffered that prison again. .. that shook me thoroughly.

Her voice drifted in the darkness. “Still awake?”

“Yes.”

I tried not to let the silence linger too long. “I was thinking about your training,” I said. “We might need to expand on your offensive capabilities.”

She turned, moving the pillow again. “I thought we were focusing on controlling my existing powers.”

“We were. You proved you can handle it. But I think you should learn shadow manipulation. If you can heal, you know how life works. That same knowledge can be used to hurt.”

I heard her sharp inhalation. “I’m not sure I want to turn healing into a weapon.”

I let out a low laugh. “Don’t you? Darkness suits you more than you admit.”

“I’ll think about it,” she promised.

Satisfied, I settled back. “Good. Now get some sleep.”

Arabella reached for the pillow but paused, her hand hovering in midair. After a moment, she withdrew it, deliberately leaving the gap between us.

As the last ember winked out and her breathing grew steady with sleep, I felt something crack inside me.

Arabella had no idea how wild my anger ran whenever I imagined her father’s cruelty.

The Dark Lord wasn’t supposed to feel protective or tender, yet here I was, wanting to shield her from nightmares she didn’t even know I was fighting.

I shut my eyes and tried to drift off, but the image of her parted lips, trembling in shared magic, scorched itself behind my eyelids. It occurred to me I was in far deeper trouble than I’d ever been.

And, disturbingly enough, I didn’t regret it.