The sail could not end fast enough.
Nocren lay on his bunk, trying to read the notes he’d taken in preparation for the trip. His handwriting skittered in front of his eyes as the ship heaved itself over a wave. He turned a page, pleading with his brain to focus on the mission. On the words, names, places, and descriptions that he’d written with his own damned hand. Yet his eyes passed over the ink, uncomprehending. They were just meaningless lines, doing little to keep his mind from drifting, unerringly, back to her.
Calya Helm, the memory of her, haunted him. The way she’d felt under his hands, her taste. The sparkle in her eyes when she’d challenged him. The way she’d been unimpressed by his wind.
Would you indulge me?
It was more than foolish, how tempted he was to do just that. It was dangerous. He knew what it meant to go down that road. Where it led. How it ended, because it could only ever be the same.
Nocren had retreated to his cabin almost immediately upon them setting sail. With the wind finding ways to filter in, to whisper in his ears whenever he saw Calya around the ship, removing himself from temptation seemed the smart thing to do. Once they arrived at the Landing, he would have distance. He’d have work to occupy his mind, and so would she. His wind’s fixation with her would dwindle when whatever business she was pursuing in the Landing had her full attention. Nocren already knew how single-minded she could get when it came to her own goals, and what she would sacrifice to achieve them. He’d been the victim of such ruthless actions, and the rational part of his mind still remembered.
He turned another page, and this time, a handful of words leapt out at him. CH-Ambitious. Reckless. Do not trust?—
Nocren tried to skip past, but his fingers remained stubbornly clutching the small steno pad—keeping it open to the page, his eyes glued to the sentence he couldn’t finish. A true statement, but a warning of her or a reminder for him?
Nocren relied on his instincts, had always trusted in them, in himself. Under most circumstances, he had a good head on his shoulders, and not just as a diviner. Trusting his gut had saved him a time or two, in Sentinel work and beyond. When it came to Calya, he knew trust was a dangerous thing. Worse than hope. But instead of looking deeper, forcing himself to answer the why of his tumultuous feelings when it came to her, what they meant, he faltered.
Nocren tossed the pad aside before slumping onto the bed again. He allowed himself a melodramatic exhale. A few more days and they’d make land, and he could bury himself in work and everything would be fine.
But they weren’t at the Landing yet. Isolated in his blessedly, or cursedly, small but private cabin, Nocren was stuck with his thoughts and the constant nagging of the wind. It was relentless with its needling at him, plucking at his skin as it tried to tempt his magic to the surface. An invitation, a flirtation, was the attention from the wind. A promise to give him some insight for free.
She’d asked him what awaited at the end of their trip, and though he’d only allowed himself a glimpse, the impression the wind gave him remained. Stuck in the back of his mind, just beyond thought, begging him to look again. To look closer.
Arm thrown across his eyes, Nocren gave in.
A prickle of magic skittered across his fingertips as he bowed to the wind and his own curiosity, letting a few dots of golden light bloom outward until they buzzed across his skin.
“I didn’t lie to you before.”
Her voice echoed in his mind, distorted as if spoken from a distance, with the wind snatching fragments of the sounds as it whipped around him. The now-familiar impressions of Important and Dramatic and Change shone bright, but they weren’t the only ones. There was still much potential in this reading from the wind. Notions like Pain and Relief and Anger. Desperation. That last flickered like a dying flame, at times bright and at others so weak as to be practically nothing.
When Nocren looked inward, he could envision the wind rendered in curls of silvery smoke and gold-tinged white mist. It was a story waiting to be unraveled, so little yet told. In this form, so much was still possible.
The sensation of Change felt the brightest to his mind, calling just a touch louder for his magic. Or was he too craven to touch on Desperation and see where it led? Had he been burned one time too many in chasing those kinds of feelings, to the point where he subconsciously assumed it ended with loss instead of victory?
No, no. This was the bargain diviners made. Putting their faith in intuition.
Mentally loosening his hold, Nocren pulled more magic from the sphere at his center and let it free. Asked the wind for Change.
The impression of Change flared warm. The picture of the smoky wind in his head swirled, a pulling sensation building behind his eyes. One by one, the other impressions, the emotions still so vague and capable of becoming anything, vanished as Nocren committed to one interpretation.
Let the gamble begin.
“I didn’t lie to you before.”
A feeling of melancholy suffused him. Bitterness and disappointment, but above all, a weariness. The sensation of hope all broken to pieces and ground to dust.
Brown eyes met his. Calya. Her expression was solemn, a mix of wistfulness and the same bitter weariness.
“I’ll never love you…”
Nocren opened his eyes. The wind no longer hummed through his mind. The only noise was the creaking of the ship as it soldiered on through the turbulent sea.
Muttering a curse, Nocren got up. This was why he didn’t do that kind of reading anymore. The personal kind. Why the wind had fixated on that specific scenario, of Calya’s vow against love…
Against him.
Nocren shook his head. He sat up, stuffing his feet back into his boots and reaching for his cloak. It didn’t matter why the wind wanted to build on this one vision. He knew the wind could lead him astray if he wasn’t careful. In the end, it only showed what was possible. So long as Nocren kept his wits about him, Calya’s words would never amount to more than what could’ve been. She couldn’t deny him her love if he never gave her the chance to begin with.
