She hated the smirk on his face. She wanted to pulverize him, to call her eagle to take out his eyes and strike his throat.
“Tell me how many people you’ve sent to infiltrate my streets,” she snapped.
She could feel her facade breaking. The smell of the herb wrapped into her lungs. Her mind began to swim, and she had to blink back the fear threatening to surface.
Her fingertips vibrated.
Her core warmed.
A violent swirling began in her abdomen. Angry and volatile. Itching to shed itself and take over.
Fire threatened to take over.
The fire she had no idea how to contain or control.
She knew without looking down that she was on the verge of ash rising on her fingertips. She let her eyes flutter and tried to push her frustrations down. She tried to count, but she forgot the numbers.
She didn't know what would happen if she let that fire out again. She might consume them all. Burn their entire world. There was no ocean to stop her this time. She had come no closer to figuring out what was happening to her, and she didn't want to find out in the middle of the night, stark in the middle of Haerland.
A shudder passed through her insides. The hair rose on her flesh. The smell of the herb filled her nostrils again. Her own smoke dissipated, and she opened her eyes to meet his again.
“How. Many?”she seethed, voice rising and cracking with every syllable.
The smirk on his face had vanished, and he was staring at her with more of an interest this time rather than mockery.
“Interesting,” he said in such a rasp that Draven’s face flickered in front of her. But she shut him out too, unsure of what was happening to her. Why she was breaking her well-trained facade simply at the infliction of the Commander’s name.
The herb smoke filled her nose again, and her heart sank when her lashes lifted.
The herb.
“What kind of herb is that?”
The smugness was back, and Gail chuckled deviously. “Didn’t realize you would be a lightweight,” he accused. “Especially knowing how much of this your brother and sister consumed.”
Nyssa blinked back the stir in her mind. Her vision was starting to blur and spin—a different sort of spin than she'd felt with Dorian's smoke. This was... This scared her. She couldn't keep her eyes focused. Fear and rage entwined inside her. Her chest heaved at the anxiety of it going over her head, of her losing control.
The fire cracked, and suddenly she was back at Magnice, screaming in the gallery. Her brother’s arms around her as she lurched forward, watching the flames consume her sister.
Wind whipped.
Back in the clearing.
She pushed her hands over her face and pressed the heel of her palms into her eyes.
Back and forth.
“Nyssari—”
A tremble settled in her knees. Slipping quickly.
Back and forth.
A hand touched her shoulder—
She was on her feet. Ropes snapped.
And Gail’s throat was in her hand.
