Whirling on her toes, the strike misses, but a couple of her loose braids fall to the mat.
Cyran pauses.
Eve pauses.
Both stares affixed upon the tendrils of severed hair on the ground.
Eve’s head snaps up. “Are you serious?” she shouts, launching herself in his direction.
Ryc, chuckling, glances at me. “Ready to start?” He pulls himself away from the wall.
I can’t say no regardless of how badly I want to witness Eve pummel Cyran. Instead, I nod, letting my arms fall to my sides.
“Why are we here today?” I ask, trailing after him. “The rain’s never stopped us before.”
He glances over his shoulder, tossing the towel aside. “It’s easier to control your emerging innate in here.”
I stop, brows creasing.
“My what?”
Surely, I’ve misheard him.
He turns to face me as I stop beside him. “The veilflowers, Ves,” he says simply—as if that would explain everything.
My scowl deepens. “If this is a joke, you’re missing the mark, Ryc.”
He shakes his head. “Not a joke.”
“The veilflowers—”
“Emerged when you discovered the soul crystal belongs to you,” he interjects, his tone firm. “The vines responded to your touch in the courtyard. Theybloomed, little love. And yesterday, they began appearing upon you.” He plants his hands on his hips. “This is your innate. It’s trying to emerge.”
“My innateisn’t—”
Eve shouts and I’m crushed against Ryc’s chest, his arms tight around me. White light fades as I turn to peer over my shoulder.
Beyond a translucent shield of white light, a curtain of shifting green tendrils curl tight around a massive shard of ice, shattering it. Splinters cascade to the floor, glittering in their descent. Eve and Cyran rush across the room, stepping around the wall of vines strung between the floor and ceiling.
“Ves,” Eve breathes, lifting her face in awe to stare above.
Stepping back, Ryc’s eyes meet mine.
“You were saying?”He taunts through our bond, giving me an arched brow.
“Lady Ves, are you alright?” Cyran asks, the question apologetic and laced with panic.
“I-I’m fine,” I manage with a tight shake of my head. I’m confused, but fine. “I did not do this. This isn’t me,” I say, giving the vines a wary once over.
They twist and knot, winding themselves into a single, flowerless entity. Leaves unfold, dark green, heart-shaped velvet.
“Do you really believe that?” Ryc asks gently. “Even after this?”
I don’t know what I believe.
But I know what I’ve had for centuries.
And it wasn’tveilflowers.
