Still stuck on what she’d said, Kieran agreed, “Likewise.”
With that, Briar bid him good night and retreated up the stairs.Slowly, Kieran sank back down on the couch and held his cooled cup of tea between his hands.
I,he decided,have a lot to think about.
Chapter Ten
Dear Ash,
I’m not sure if I’ll get around to sending that first letter I wrote you, or this one, but I suppose I just need to get a few things off my chest.
I think, maybe, it would have been better to have talked a bit more before deciding to take a break.I never even had a chance to explain that Idowant to change.It feels a little unfair, if I’m being honest.If we can’t talk about these things now, how can we expect to in the future?
Anyway, that aside, I guess I just wanted to say I miss you and I hope we can talk soon.I finished the first step in my Calling, which means I’m one step closer to seeing you.
Hopefully, you’ll be able to see me, too.
Yours,
Kieran
The next few days on the ship passed in relative calm as the crew made their way toward the Mirrorveil Woods, in southern Celdwyn.The Hilt remained tucked into Kieran’s sock drawer.A few times, he pulled it out and examined it, doing his best to ignore the way his new lake spirit friend hissed at it.Even just running his fingers across the gilded filigree was enough to feel the magic buzzing inside.
In a strange way, it brought him back to the moment he’d had with Sebastian when he’d been able to attune to Hattie’s invention.He was so new to summoning his magic on purpose that the feeling of it was still novel to him.It had been so warm and electric—a sculpture waiting to take shape, and all he had to do was mold it.
Maybe,he’d thought later as he stroked Seaweed’s head where it rested on his thigh,I should give it another shot.
The next morning, Kieran was up before the sun rose.He figured if he was going to try using his magic, it would be best to practice before anyone else woke up and started giving him unsolicited advice.Whenever he’d asked Delilah or Briar for help in the past, their methods of casting had always felt so specific to them.They had their ways of doing things that worked for them, because they’d both had years and years to refine their process.Kieran had tried their methods, sure, but nothing had worked for him.
I just have to find my own way of doing things.
He slid out of bed, Seaweed hopping off his chest, where she had fallen asleep, and squeaking with annoyance.The spirit lingered at his feet, weaving between his legs as he dressed.Then he grabbed his poetry notebook before heading out to the topdeck, Seaweed on his heels.The sky was just barely beginning to brighten, the clouds cottony and languid as they floated by.A chill hung in the air, and Kieran could see his breath.He pulled his coat tighter around him as he took a seat at a table.Seaweed hopped up and wrapped herself around his neck like a scarf, warm against his skin.For a spirit who had technically killed dozens of people while under the Hilt’s control, she was quite affectionate.
Kieran gave the spirit a few pats as he laid the notebook out in front of him and opened it to a blank page.Words from the page before were imprinted onto the blank space—the letter he’d written Ash last night.
Kieran found himself mindlessly tapping his pen against the page.He’d barely given any thought to how he wanted to cast if not through poetry.He’d drawn a lot as a child, but he’d never gotten very good at it.Reading and writing had always been what called to him most.
Maybe I could try writing something other than poetry.
He shivered a bit in the cold, even with Seaweed’s added body heat.What he would give for a nice fire to sit in front of.
Hmm.
Kieran pressed the pen against the page.He thought back to his childhood, seated on a fur rug in front of a fire on the Pelumbra estate.Warmth rose from his chest as he began to pen a description of the memory.He wrote about the gentle popping sound the wood made as it burned and the faint vanilla scent of the smoke.He described how the rug had felt so soft beneath him, and how his mother’s hand had gently ruffled his hair.
As he did, he noticed a faint silver glow sparking off the tip ofhis pen.Seaweed chirruped excitedly at the sight.He did his best not to let this distract him—the moment he stopped focusing on his writing and got caught up in the casting, he was sure his magic would retreat to where it lived in its well within his chest.
Just as he finished the description, a familiar voice asked, “What brings you out here so early in the morning?”
He turned to find Sebastian behind him, wearing his wool coat with a red scarf.His hair was wet, as if he’d recently stepped out of the shower.
“Oh!Um—just practicing magic.”Kieran gestured to the notebook as Sebastian closed the distance between them.Kieran continued: “Decided to give prose a chance.”
“May I?”Sebastian asked, pointing to the notebook.
Kieran immediately stiffened.What if the spell didn’t work?Worse yet, what if Sebastian thought the writing was bad?What if he’d miswritten something and it could somehow harm Sebastian?What if—?
He cut himself off, handing the notebook to Sebastian.He did his best not to tense up as Sebastian’s eyes darted across the page.You’ll never improve if you don’t open yourself up to feedback.
