War proved to be a worthy distraction from her heartbreak, but it did not erase the valuable lesson Viviane had taught her.
“I can’t trust anyone, Aleissande,” Josie muttered as she shouldered past the general. “That’s exactly the problem.”
4
Will was no stranger to circumstances he could not control.
The death of his mother. The abuse of his father. The revelation that his mother had not died, but had merely left him to survive life with a monster.
A power-hungry queen ascending the throne.
A prophecy that seemed intent on destroying his life because it endangered the woman he loved.
One would think, through it all, that urging inside of him that screamed for him to move, to act, to graspsomethingthat would prove he had a say in his life, would wane.
But it was ever-present, even now.
Perhaps that was why training with Aidon these past few mornings hadn’t triggered his impatience like he had expected. Yes, he’d rather take to his horse at first light, but the animals needed proper rest to maintain the grueling pace he’d set, and Aidon…
Well, he’d meant it when he said he did not have time for Aidon to die.
“Good,” Will murmured as Aidon held a ball of Incend flame in his hand. They’d come upon an abandoned barn last night, its wood wet and molded. But it was shelter for thenight, and a viable space to train this morning without having to worry that Aidon might burn the structure down.
His control over his affinity was sporadic at best, especially if Will rankled him.
“Now expand it,” Will instructed.
Aidon’s brows scrunched as he forced the ball of fire to grow, his other hand coming up to cup it. Sweat dripped down his forehead, but Will didn’t note any other signs of distress. So he flexed his palm, his affinity spearing across the space. Aidon stilled, eyes blowing wide with the panic that Will sent washing over him. His fire vanished.
“Shielding still seems to be an issue,” Will noted.
Aidon’s muscles trembled with exertion, his hand curling into a fist at his side. Slowly, Will felt the push of Aidon’s shield, forcing his affinity out.
“You’re an asshole,” Aidon panted as Will let his affinity drop. “I wasn’t ready.”
“Clearly. But you managed to regain your shield while under assault without your affinity reacting with your anger. And, you’re not bleeding today.”
Aidon’s annoyed glare dissolved into wide-eyed surprise, his hand ghosting across his nose in search of proof. It was sad that the lack of blood was such a drastic improvement.
They’d started small, with exercises designed to help Aidon sense the depth of his power and how to pull from it without utterly exhausting himself. It was still unpredictable, and excruciatingly slow, but Aidon was…
Well, it seemed, at the very least, that using his affinity in small doses had staunched some of the more dire symptoms. Whether they were merely slowing his decay or stopping it, it was too early to tell. But Will would take whatever progress he could get.
“Soon shielding will be second nature,” Will assured him as he took a sip from the waterskin tucked away with their supplies.
“How often does one break through your shield?” Aidonasked as he wiped his face with his discarded shirt. Will stilled, the lip of the waterskin still pressed to his mouth.
There it was—another aspect of his life he could not control.
He forced himself to swallow. “I am not the best marker to measure against,” he finally said.
Aidon rolled his eyes. “That untouchable, are you?”
Will ignored him, focusing instead on readying their packs.
You are weak. And one day, someone will exploit your weakness, and you’ll deserve whatever consequences follow.
His father’s words came unbidden to his mind, a locked-away memory he didn’t recall burying, yet there it was.
