29
“Let me show you.” The Storm brushes her hands across the space above Baelen’s chest, delicate gestures, painting colors in the air, images forming until I recognize my younger self wrapped in Baelen’s arms on the stormy cliff. My ribbon is a curl of blue floating above us. It’s moments before the lightning hit us.
“That first lightning strike wasn’t me,” the Storm says. “It was a natural storm and a natural strike. Deadly, for sure, but not me. I’d escaped into the clouds and I saw it as it happened.”
The lightning streaks down at us inside the image, illuminating my upturned face. I look away before I see myself push Baelen, but the Storm says, “This is important, Marbella. You need to see what you did.”
I force myself to watch as the images play out, watching myself drive Baelen out of the way, shoving him as hard as I can to keep him safe. He slips, but there’s something else… something I never realized…
My eyes widen as I watch my feet slide backward across the wet stone, my hands still outstretched, my lavender cloak billowing and weightless, tugging me, sliding me right out… past the edge... and the fear in Baelen’s eyes…
“You were so determined to save him, you didn’t know how close you were to the edge of the cliff. You slid right off it. That first lightning strike would have killed Baelen if it wasn’t for you.” She meets my shocked eyes. “Butyouwould have died if it wasn’t for me.”
Inside the image I can see now the brighter streak of lightning—the Storm’s power—speeding toward me, overlaying the first natural strike to reach me first. The Storm’s lightning catches me in its rays and even though it rips me apart, it slowly drags me back to the surface of the cliff.
“But… I…”
“Keep watching, Marbella,” the Storm urges me. “Because what you did next changed everything.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I know what happens next. I hurt Baelen. Badly.”
Her eyebrows lift. She turns her hands mid-air and the image turns with her. Baelen’s image is now closer to me. “Is that what you think? Look again.”
Inside the image, the cascade of lightning from my hands hits him. Unable to turn away now, I flinch and swallow a cry, squeezing my fingernails into my palms. But then… the wound on his face heals.
“Cauterized,” I whisper. “But I saw him bleed for hours.”
“That was the rain mixing with the blood he lost before this moment. You couldn’t see from where you were.”
At the same time, Baelen lights up. Crimson strands just like the color of his heartstone curl around him. They pulse through his body right into his bones, even into his spine. I’d thought it was flame, that I’d burned him, but it’s not.
It’s red lightning.
“When I struck you, I gave you my power,” the Storm explains. “When you struck him, you gave him yours.”
She reaches out and wraps her hand around my arm. It’s like connecting with a shadow, unreal, transparent, but it anchors me to the spot. She says, “You bonded with him in a way that no Storm Princess has ever done before. He shares the storm with you like no male ever has before. You are connected body and soul. I don’t know how you managed to stay away from each other these past seven years.”
“Then… Those times he came to the Storm Vault and I could suddenly fight back against you…” I’d seen what I thought was his heartstone light shining across his body, but was it actually… crimson lightning?
“He was harnessing his power without knowing it, combining his strength with yours.”
“And when we were at Mai’s, he stood beside me. The spell couldn’t move him.”
“Just like it couldn’t move you.”
“And… now?”
She says, “Their blades injured him to the point of death, but his storm power keeps him alive.Yourstorm power keeps him alive.” The image fades above his chest. “You know the truth now.”
For the first time in seven years, I’m not afraid to touch Baelen’s bare skin with mine. My hands shake and a sob rises to my throat, but I press my palm to his cheek.
A shudder runs through me at the contact. I’ve waited so long to be close to him again. His face is warm. A faint wash of bristles grazes my hand as I run my fingers across his jaw, aching for him to respond. “Wake up, Bae.”
He remains completely still. Tears slide down my cheeks. “If he’s alive, why won’t he wake up?”
Her eyes glisten with tears. “Marbella, I’m sorry. When I said the storm is keeping him alive I didn’t mean it healed him. Not this time. There’s too much damage. He’s alive, and he’s paused in this moment so the damage doesn’t progress, but… he won’t heal by ordinary medicine or spellcasting.”
She pauses. “It is probably a small consolation, but I want you to know that he isn’t cursed. The curse was destroyed when that sorcerer died.” Her delicate lip curls as she points at Gideon Glory in distaste.
