“Then I want to be a part of that too.”
“I discovered a new trick, and I’ll teach you.”
“If magic’s involved, it’s past time I learned,” she said. “I can’t rely on my finger for every situation.”
After flitting to the shed next to the aerie, I showed her how to guard her mind. That was the first thing Vexxion worked on with me, and the more Reyla knew, the more someone could steal.
“I’ll practice,” she said.
“As often as you can. Eventually, you’ll find you can keep the barrier there without purposefully thinking about it. Even when you’re asleep.”
“Perfect.”
We left the shed and crossed the bridge without encountering anyone. Thank the king for holding court in the evening and requiring all the fae within the area to attend without question. At least it kept them from grabbing us and attempting something awful.
I strode up to the door, noting the pretend Iasar writhing in the right panel. If I didn’t know how amazing Vexxion’s magic was, I’d think Iasar had been recaptured and pinned back in place.
Amronth contorted himself, seemingly oblivious of us standing nearby, staring at him. As he moved, hints of purple scales shone through the spell the king had cast to bind him. How long had they been trapped inside this door? From what I’d learned, Ivenrail had been high lord of Bledmire for a very long time. He’d murdered his father—per the rumors. Nothing I’d read stated this outright, but that was the impression I’d gleaned.
“What is this?” Reyla asked, her eyes sparkling with tears. “That poor dragon is alive and trapped in there, isn’t it?”
I nodded, unwilling to say anything further when we might be overheard. Bad enough I was going to try to free him where someone might see and report my action to the king.
This creature had been robbed of his freedom. I mourned his clipped wings and quelled fire. It must be torturous to be trapped like this. A feeling of solidarity gripped my heart.
“You think flitting is exciting,” I whispered to Reyla, waving to the left panel where Amronth cavorted, his craggy face twisted with agony. “Wait until you see what I can do with this dragon.”
I pulled a blade and handed it to her without hesitation. “Watch out for me while I do this, will you?”
She stared down at the dagger. “Do you trust me with this?”
I gave her a quick hug. “You didn’t try to kill me. Farnoll lulled you and made you do it. That’s why I taught you how to guard your mind. If you can perfect a guard, you might be able to keep someone from manipulating you.”
“What a bastard,” she snarled, backing away with a gleam in her eyes sharper than the blade.
“He’s now adeadbastard, courtesy of Vexxion.”
Her voice softened, and she stared into my eyes. “Are you happy? I teased you about him, but he always came across as harsh to me. He’s not hurting you, is he?”
Shaking my head, I leaned close to her, keeping my voice soft. “I love him, and he feels the same.”
Her long sigh let go. “He’d better. That’s all I’ll say.”
“I’ll gut him if he doesn’t.”
A light laugh bubbled up her throat. “You haven’t changed.”
Oh, but I had.
The humor fled her face as she tightened her grip on the blade, and her wild gaze spiraled around us, though we remained alone. “I can’t believe we’ve been standing out in the open this long.” A shiver tracked through her, and she rubbed her bare arm as if to chase away goosebumps. “We shouldn’t be out in the open like this.”
Hide, she meant. Had that compulsion been instilled inside her as well?
“We will. Soon. Watch.” I sucked a lot of power from my well, because I suspected it would take more than the average amount to free a big creature like this. Size may not make the difference, but I bet those the king hated the most were locked up tighter. Freeing Iasar had been a fluke. No true skill had been involved.
I cast the spell, shooting it out at Amronth.
He stopped moving and stared at me.
