Chest tightening, Dyna inhaled a deep breath and nodded. She had to figure it out. This was how she eliminated her helplessness. She couldn’t strengthen herself without putting in the work.
“What are the three theories of magic?” Lucenna asked.
“Essence is the life-force energy of the elements,” Dyna recited. “Magic is life-force energy manifested. Spells are magic directed by the will.”
“Will is the matter at hand. If you don’twillthe ball to move, it won’t.” And with that, Lucenna strode for her tent.
Was it really so easy? Well, if the sorceress said she could do it, then it had to be possible, right? Accomplishing this meant she would meet the Druid, and meeting him meant she would find her Guardians. There was no time for self-doubt. Dyna bit her lip and stared at the ball.
Lyra was her reason. Saving her and the children. Defeating the Shadow. She repeated it in her mind like a chant.
Lyra. Children. Shadow.
The ball floated an inch above Dyna’s hand, then one more. But her smile fell when it went no higher. Why wasn’t it working?
“If you focus any harder, you will rupture a vein.”
Dyna yelped. The ball fell between their boots, and heat flared in her cheeks. So lost in what she was doing, Cassiel’s approach had gone unnoticed until he stood in front of her. The gentle wind picked at his navy jacket, fluttering the ends. His divine sword didn’t hang from his hip. He must have leftEsh Zayinback at camp.
She took a step back, putting much-needed space between them. They would have to speak eventually, but she wasn’t ready. What could she say? A nervously tingling rushed through her chest. What was there to say when she could only think of one thing in his presence?
He was her—God of Urn.
Thinking about it sent another wash of heat through her face and churned a multitude of emotions inside of her that she couldn’t sort through yet. The only one that made sense was anger. She could handle anger.
Drawing in a shallow breath, Dyna made herself meet his silvery gaze and said coolly, “Yes, you’re probably right.”
Her head was throbbing, and she felt mentally drained.
“If you would like a distraction, I thought I might offer a new lesson,” Cassiel said.
His eyes roved over her face, taking in the tension of her features and the firm set of her lips. Wherever he looked, Dyna felt the featherlight impression of his touch, exploring her the way he’d done on the cliff.
“A knife and bow are but tools—the true weapon is the one who wields them.” Cassiel removed a knife from his boot and flipped it in his hand, presenting it to her hilt first.
The black handle shone with an iridescent swirl of blue and green, sunlight gracing the beautifully etched design on the blade. He held her gaze, his silver eyes full of grueling promises and something unknown that should have frightened her, but Dyna’s pulse rushed with nervous anticipation, wanting whatever he was offering. The corner of Cassiel’s mouth curled in a subtle smirk that scattered her thoughts as it had the first time she’d seen it.
“If you wish to learn how to fight, then brace yourself, Dynalya,” he said, his voice low and dark. “For when I’m finished, you will know exactly where and how to cut.”
The way he gazed at her sent a rush of thrill along her skin. “You’ll teach me?”
“Is that not what you asked?”
It was. Though she’d half expected him to change his mind.
Dyna carefully accepted the knife and glanced at the trees. “Yes, but Zev will not approve.”
“I have already spoken to him. I’m merely teaching you with the purpose of defense, not how to kill.”
Zev was worried about that? She couldn’t imagine ever killing someone.
Cassiel reached in his coat and removed a thin leather belt. From it dangled an empty sheath. “This is yours.”
He took a step, then hesitated, waiting for her reaction. When she didn’t move, his arms came around her waist, and she held her breath. A tremble sank through her spine, and her chest tightened with the conflicting need to escape him—or to get closer.
But he was careful, barely touching her as he fastened the belt on her waist.
Once it was buckled in place, with the sheath resting on her hip, Cassiel stepped back. He observed her, dragging a thumb along his bottom lip. “It is certainly … becoming.”
