Stepping free from the pathway, I enter my field, a wide-open cage that traps the sloped hills and pastures. Behind it, mountains frame the landscape, feathery skies, and a bright sunny day masks the corruption on these lands.
You are ice. You do not melt under Titus’s flames. Stomp on the swelling emotions!
Feelings so dangerous, empires would topple. Kingdoms would be no more.
Tossing the rose aside, I walk to the center of the field and grab my sword, pressing it to my lips. This is who you should love. Metal. Weapons.
Not men trying to save you.
I’ll never admit what is happening between Titus and me, why I inch closer when I should shove back, why I dreamt of him last night.
It can’t happen.
Spinning, I aim my sword at the man who has caused my heart to beat again.
It’s time to train, to stay steady on our course. At sea, an island looks inviting. It was never the final destination.
I can not divert.
Our emotions are nothing compared to the grand scheme. I will not let my brother’s death be for nothing.
“Let’s begin,” I declare. My eyes swim along the metal of my blade, the sky above reflecting on it. It’s time to vanquish these emotions so they remain forever hidden.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Titus
One week later.
Training with Selene is both my torment and salvation.
She’s a guiding light that leads you off the edge of a cliff. Pushing. Shoving. Forcing your toes to uncurl so she can plow you off. As I free-fall, I sense Everett’s magic. Time is curious; it pursues knowledge. It halts everything so it can gobble it down.
Keeping Everett's magic asleep is a battle of masking my emotions.
There's another problem. A separate magic is blossoming inside of me. A sensation flows up my spine when I’m near Selene.
Selene senses it yet tips her chin up. I want to curl my fingers around her slim neck, guide her jaw to mine, and force her to acknowledge it.
Tell me I am not the only one! Tell me, Selene.
My fangs throb with a thirst the blinding sun cannot extinguish. A swipe of my tongue over them only tickles it, as my eyes lock onto the temptress.
It’s getting worse, this curse inside of me.
How do I rebuke it?
Tell me how?
Our blades clash as I deflect her attempted attack. She moves around me with a fury, allowing me to stand still and watch as she searches for her next opening.
Mistake. Don’t search. Demand an opportunity. That’s how you defeat your enemy.
Selene’s black hair lashes like ropes in a harbor, forcing me to dock and to look her in the eye. She spins around, blade held high, creating a small whistle in the air. She lets out a growl as she lunges. I force my smirk into a straight line.
She’s not a poor fighter; she’s brilliant, but there’s a sense inside of me that seems to know where she is going to strike next.
