My heart was beating like a drum, so hard that I thought Alaryk might be able to feel it throb into his own skin.
“You won’t be inside my mind, will you?” I whispered.
“Something you don’t want me to uncover?” he asked.
I tried to keep my expression impassive, hoping he didn’t see how much alarm saturated my eyes. He would be able to tell. It seemed he saw everything. “I don’t like the feeling of it,” I said quickly. “It feels…violating. Like I’m not my own.”
“Yes, it does,” he agreed, surprising me. He rubbed a hand down his jaw. “No, I won’t be able to dig around in your mind, Amaia, if that’s what worries you.”
“And I should simply believe you? Because you’ve been so forthcoming about everything else?”
His gaze snapped to me. I thought I might’ve offended him with my comment. “Do you have a choice?”
“I do, actually,” I said, feeling my spine straighten at the words. “Because I could walk away right now. Fromallof this. At no cost to me.”
He sobered. “Yes, you could. But I don’t think you will.”
I couldn’t even bring myself to deny those words. Maybe thatmade me a fool. But I realized that in helping Samryn, I would help savetwobeings. Even if the other unexpected one was infuriatingly smug and irritating.
“I was told you were worried about me,” I found myself shooting back. “When you brought me back to the hatchery a couple nights ago.”
“Does that fill you with satisfaction?” he wanted to know, cocking his head to peer down at me, eyes narrowed in shrewd observation. He was closer than I’d originally realized. But now I could see the strands of silver in his stunningly blue eyes, mesmerizing. His lips were full, surprisingly soft-looking for such a severe face.
No matter what I replied with, I realized he would have the upper hand, and so I bit my tongue. He smirked, and I stepped back. But I forgot the edge of the walkway was right there.
Alaryk’s hand flashed out, quicker than I could gasp when I felt my foot slip, and he tugged me forward. A blur of reflexes that made me realize just how powerful he was.
“Be careful,” he warned, releasing me, stepping back himself. He ran a hand through his silver hair. I didn’t know if I just imagined it, but I thought it might have been shaking. “Are you ready to begin?”
“Will it hurt?” I asked, ignoring my near fall.
“No,” he said. “Just the opposite, in fact.”
What did that mean?
But I realized I would find out.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured. “And quiet your mind. You’ll feel the heartstone. When you do, latch onto it. Let it lead you. I’ll be there, waiting.”
His voice was quietly fading away as I did what he told me. Closing my eyes in that strange place, I’d never felt more vulnerable, except perhaps on the back of an Elthika. I focused on my breath. I’d never called my heartstone magic to me unless there was apurposefor it, unless it was needed to calm apyrokior toheal a loved one. There was no urgency here, no heart-pounding danger or desire for it.
And the more I searched for it, the more it eluded me. I felt a breeze against my arms, but I knew there was no wind here in this crumbling, ancient, desolate cavern. It tingled against my skin, sinking into me like a silken oil. I felt my magic wiggle, like it was summoned. But the more I tried to grip it, the more it slipped away.
My eyes opened. Alaryk was watching me, his handsome face drawn in observation across from me.
“Resisting again?” he asked.
“I can feel it,” I said, frustrated, “but it’s not coming forth. I…I’ve never had to use it unless I needed to.”
“Ican call it forth,” he reminded me. “But you need to learn to do it yourself.”
Easier said than done because it had always felt effortless. I’d never had tothinkabout it.
I closed my eyes, trying again.
“You’retoofocused,” he declared a moment later when I could feel my frustration rise even more. “It should feel like breathing. We’ll need to coax it from you until it becomes familiar.”
“And how do you want to do that, exactly?” I asked, my eyes popping open, propping my hands on my hips.
