Page 6

KLEOS

G ods, may Apollo shoot me before I embarrass myself further.

I didn’t know what the hell possessed me to humiliate myself like that. I opted to blame the horrible sleep full of burning dreams, the terrifying, excruciating way I woke up, and my exhaustion. Why else would I have submitted myself to this kind of rejection?

Lucian Regis, the formerly elusive high sorcerer of the underside, who only ever showed up at formal festivals—and remained far, far away from we new-blood plebe, sticking to his fancy founding family peers—had spent five months, four weeks, and four days as my cousin’s partner.

Deadly, formidable, he walked into the Guard each morning wearing dark sunglasses and a suit so well cut over his broad shoulders and muscular frame, it should be considered lewd.

Downright pornographic. I was fairly certain I couldn’t be the only one instantly imagining dirty, dirty things whenever he appeared.

But if I learned one thing during the course of his employment, it was that the guy loathed me.

Or he was extremely repulsed by me. I saw it in the way he stood still, recoiled, barely breathed whenever I was near.

But from the corner of my eyes, at a distance, I’d witnessed his interactions, both with Gideon and other people.

He could be relaxed and chat, even up here amongst light witches. So it was me. I was the problem.

I couldn’t be too disappointed; of course a dark wizard would find me abhorrent.

My magical signature was a lot brighter than most. Not that I could help it.

Just like Lucian was born into darkness—with that platinum blond, straight hair and the pale gray eyes, he seemed allergic to color—I was a goddamned redhead, and filled with more power that I knew what to do with.

Except, just my luck, instead of having the same reaction to him, namely feeling repulsed, wary, and wanting to keep my distance, everything inside me constantly told me to get closer to him.

People were exhausting . They had anxiety and depression and various aches and ailments and my core ability, ever awake beneath the surface, pushed me, demanding I heal and soothe and take care of everyone around me.

Whether I felt like it or not, no matter how anxious, achy, exhausted, scared, or just goddamned busy I was, my power wanted to heal.

And Lucian Regis? He didn’t exude any need. Just raw strength. His steadying presence in itself would be enticing, even if he didn’t look like that .

Damn the day he started at the Guard. I used to have a more or less normal life, without obsessing over dark, dangerous sorcerers who couldn’t stand the sight of me before he inserted himself in my periphery.

Today, still scared, angry, and tired, I couldn’t resist. I just had to see if I’d been right, if being close to him felt different to everyone else.

Nothing prepared me for it. Not only was he just as powerful as I’d estimated from a distance, but close to him, I didn’t feel anything else, anyone else.

Not even Gideon’s bad lower back and his stiff shoulder.

I had to remember to nag him into getting a massage before it bugged me.

The echo of other people’s suffering could cause sympathetic phantom pain in my own body, especially if I was close to the person.

Back in the archives, far later than reasonable, with six rune books scattered around my desk, all open at key passages, I should have focused on the mystery of the words etched under my long sleeves, but I was replaying the events of this afternoon instead.

Gosh, I shouldn’t have made him eat the cupcake, practically forcing it down his throat when he just wanted to be left alone. I was like a feline, spotting the one person who didn’t like cats, and asking for cuddles.

But I was so fucking tired. I could use some strength.

I wondered what he’d say if I walked up to him and just asked if I could sit by his side and let him block out the world for me.

He’d probably go for a restraining order.

He seemed to like the cupcake, though. He asked for a second one in exchange for faebloom essence.

“The hell, Kleos?” Silver flopped down on the other side of my desk, covered in sweat.

It was odd how, even in this state, she still smelled like a fresh spring day. Unfair, really.

Petite, short, dainty, my best friend had the physical strength of your average tank. Her smell wasn’t the only thing that didn’t make sense. But who was I to judge?

“Why are you still here?”

“Why are you?” I countered.

“If I want to make it to protector next year, I need to nail the next tests. I squeezed in a workout tonight. A long workout. It’s almost midnight.”

I could tell; her hair was back to its signature metallic silver. Each morning in the shower, she stubbornly dyed the long flowing waves bright pink, and every night by midnight, it was back to shining silver. One of the many strange things about her.

I didn’t bother to ask her how she knew I was still here. The pendant glowing softly around her neck was answer enough.

“Do you need me to replenish it?” I asked, tilting my chin towards the item.

Silver wrinkled her nose. She didn’t like to talk about it, didn’t like having to rely on my magic. But bottom line, I could help, and it wasn’t against the rules for a Guard employee to wear enchanted items, so I wasn’t going to stop. It kept my best friend safe.

“Nah, it’s fine. You filled it up, like, last week, and I haven’t had to deflect much magic yet.” She shrugged. “Unless you need to drain yourself.”

I bit my lower lip; we were approaching a dangerous subject for me.

I drained my magic far more often than was normal—or allowed —because if I didn’t, there was a chance that people around me would notice what only Silver and I knew.

It was changing. It was growing .

Kids were supposed to attain the full extent of their magic in their teens. And yes, at sixteen, I got an extra influx of power, to my parents’ great concern. That should have been the end of it.

But I was twenty-three, and every year, I felt stronger.

There were witches who could faint after performing a handful of spells.

Some took potions to replenish their energy.

There was a thriving black-market trade for enchanted items meant to increase people’s magical endurance.

And I was struggling to get rid of power.

Neither of my parents were equipped to deal with me. I wasn’t the way I was because of them .

My father’s family made their fortune in New York.

When the youngest son—my grandfather—married a witch, he was disowned, so his new wife murdered the rest of the family, until the money reverted back to him.

Well, officially, they happened to all die in mysterious circumstances and no suspect was ever found, but that in itself is telling. In short, the Valescos were rich.

They moved to Highvale thirty-five years ago, with a wave of paranormal creatures fleeing the rest of the world.

Learning about the existence of magic and those able to use it did not go down well with most humans for a time.

As new bloods, as the city calls us, the Valescos sought to ally with an existing Highvale family.

They decided to wed their son Leander to Zenya Pendros, a talented white witch of a line descended from the first inhabitants of our city.

I inherited a drop of magic from the Valesco side—a witch grandmother, without much talent other than for efficient poisons. She instilled in me a taste for brewing magic as a child, though I wasn’t very good at it.

As for my mother, she and I didn’t have much in common. The Pendroses weren’t one of the five founders. That title was reserved for those who had been directly sired by one of the gods who founded Highvale.

There were one of the twenty-seven noble lines and my mother’s family was one of them. Well respected in town, they were known for an affinity to light magic—a combination of air and fire. My mother could literally summon the sun, and control the sky to an extent during the day.

I’d never shown a tendency for either skill. She was powerful in her own right, but nothing like me.

In fact, for my first seven years, it was understood that I would be a pretty, useful daughter of two important politicians, but nothing much more than that.

Not a powerful witch. Not a powerful anything.

My mother had my debut planned and a long line of suitors drafted before I could handle long division.

Then it happened.

My father cried. My mother screamed herself hoarse. And I learned to mask what I could so they wouldn’t worry. Or punish me. Or tell me to change myself back into the kid they gave birth to.

I couldn’t.

And quite frankly? I didn’t want to.

“I always need to drain myself,” I confessed.

Silver didn’t judge. Or rather, she was extremely judgmental, but never towards me.

Without a single question, she removed her pendant and slid it across the desk. “Have at it.”

I gratefully took it, imbuing it with as much magic as I could without risking the integrity of the stone, before tossing it back to her. I couldn’t aim, but she could certainly catch.

Smiling, she tucked it back in her shirt. “God, that’s a buzz and a half. No wonder some people get addicted to magic. So, what are you studying?”

I hesitated. I trusted Silver more than anyone else in my life, even Gideon.

If he was concerned about me, my cousin would tell his mother, who’d tell my father, and then, I’d never hear the end of it.

Silver wouldn’t babble to my parents, and would do what she could to help.

But she would also freak, then barge into the town square demanding to know who dared attack her bestie, like the tactless bull she was.

“Nothing. Just runes.”

That was believable enough. It was a well-known fact that I adored runic languages. So much it got me into a world of trouble already.

Bored, she lay back on her seat. “Wake me up when you’re done. It’s late. I’ll walk you home.”

I grinned. Anyone would laugh at the idea of the five-foot-one girl as a self-appointed bodyguard. Right up until she grabbed them by the throat and tossed them over her shoulder without breaking a sweat.