Leaning back in my seat, I studied the bottles lined up behind the bar on rickety shelves, trying to read the Duathi runes printed on their labels. The door creaked as someone new entered, and dust fell from the stone ceiling when it slammed closed.
A faint sense of dread hummed beneath my feet.
Seth kicked up his feet on our table, brows scrunched up as he whittled a small piece of wood. Lowering his journal, Eleos peered at him over the pages with silent fury.
Looking up, Seth caught his eye and quickly dropped his feet. Laughing, I returned to my drink.
Sighing, Eleos snapped his journal closed. “I should teach you,” he said. “It’ll still take time and practice, but maybe I can help you understand psyche magic.” His eyes darkened. “I just don’t understand how . . .”
My hands trembled on my mug. Icelus’ cold, silver eyes flashed in my memories.
“I do.” Seth raked his knife across the stick, and the shaving flew away from him. His knuckles whitened around the blade’s handle.
Eleos looked like he wanted to press for details. But he didn’t. “You’ll need to be careful, Lady Aethra. Opening your mind to more than one person at a time is overwhelming.”
“Mhm.” I took a swig of ale. “I’ve learned that.”
“Here.” Eleos shifted closer, and took my hand. “See if you can read my thoughts.”
Setting my mug down, I curled my fingers around Eleos’ and turned to face him. My eyes trailed over his soft brown waves and the speckling of freckles across his nose.
I trusted Eleos. He’d been in my head countless times before.
The words came faintly at first. Then they grew into audible sentences.
‘My powers came to me when I held my sister’s brutalized body. What did Aethra see?’
Memories of my interrogation flashed behind my eyes. Eleos’ grip on my hand tightened.
“You . . .” Eleos closed his eyes, and his brows lowered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you remember.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nudged him. “Lighten up. I wanted a merry drink in the tavern.”
“Heh.” He smiled faintly. “As you say, Lady Aethra.”
The painful emotions faded as I stared into his sage-green eyes. He returned my gaze with softness, as though he looked upon his favorite flower in full bloom.
Contentedness settled my trembling limbs and a sense of warm safety fought off my dark memories.
Eleos was pushing emotions onto me.
Turning red, I broke his gaze. Seth stared at our interlocked fingers, jaw clenched.
Setting aside his work, Seth rose and walked to my side. “If you want to have a merry time, you should dance.”
Releasing Eleos’ hand, I looked up at Seth. “I can’t dance.”
“Oh.” Seth chuckled. “I forgot about that. What kind of princess doesn’t know how to dance?” His scarlet eyes flicked to the door, and he tensed.
A young man entered the tavern—at first, I didn’t notice what had put Seth on edge. Light brown skin, matching curly hair, and a bundle of old rags for clothes. Nothing on the surface was remarkable.
He walked with a bounce to his step, but his eyes darted around with the kind of alertness I expected from Guild members.
Dropping a package onto the counter, the young man leaned forward and spoke with the bartender in hushed tones.
Glancing between the young man and the dark-haired bartender, I dropped my cheek into my chin, pretending to stare into my drink as I reached for their minds.
Reading a stranger’s thoughts was much more difficult. I felt like a sword, circling an armored knight in search of a gap in his defenses. Both felt foreign—voices I’d never heard before.
