“What was that?” I breathed.
“Nothing,” he snarled, backing away like I’d burned him. “A fluke.”
“That wasn’t nothing—”
“It was a mistake. The marks responding to proximity. It means nothing.”
The Sage watched us with interest. “The connection is forming whether you want it or not.”
“Then sever it,” Kaelren said, and there was something close to desperation in his voice.
“I cannot. It is what it is.”
“It’s a curse,” he spat. “Bad enough she stole the marks. Now I’m leashed to her incompetence?”
“The best bonds always are inconvenient,” the Sage said mildly.
Kaelren looked at me, and for a moment his walls were down. I saw fear there. Not of me, but of what was happening between us. A connectionneither of us had asked for, neither of us wanted.
Then the walls slammed back up, and he was cold again.
“Again,” he said. “And this time, try to last more than three seconds.”
“I lasted at least five that time.”
“Four. And only because I was distracted.”
“By our mystical proximity?”
“By your terrible footwork.”
But I caught the lie in it. He was as shaken as I was.
We went again. And again. And again. Each time I lasted a little longer, learned a little more. The Root responded more readily, creating obstacles, diversions, sometimes actual weapons from the living wood around us. But it was wild, uncontrolled. I was as likely to trap myself as my opponent.
“You’re thinking too much,” Eltrien observed from where he was preparing some kind of healing salve. “The Root doesn’t respond to thought. It responds to instinct.”
“My instinct is to run away.”
“Then use that. The Root excels at creative escapes.”
Sarnyx laughed. “She needs to fight, not flee.”
“She needs to survive,” Kaelren corrected. “Fighting is optional. Living isn’t.”
“Pragmatic,” Vashael said, her pollen cloud shimmering. “I approve.”
“Nobody asked for your approval,” Sarnyx muttered.
“Nobody ever does. I give it anyway. It’s a service.”
They continued bickering, but I wasn’t listening. Something was happening with my marks. They were warm, almost hot, and spreading faster than before. I could feel them creeping down my arm, across my chest, like molten fire under my skin.
“Sage,” I said, and something in my voice made everyone stop talking.
The Sage was beside me in an instant, their green eyes examining the spreading marks. “Interesting. It’s accelerating.”
“Is that bad?”
