Sands, but I’m in all kinds of trouble.
“No one likes a show-off,” I say primly, holding myself so still that I’m barely breathing. Any friction and I’ll be done for.
His smirk deepens. “Yield.”
“Never.”
Without warning, I thrust upward, but he’s much too heavy for me to shrug off that easily. He lifts a haughty eyebrow, the challenge in his eyes clear. I’m torn between kissing him and kicking him.
But after my previous failed effort, I’m too much of a coward for the first.
Gritting my teeth, I shimmy sideways until I have leverage to move my right knee, and then I jerk it in sharply beneath him, wedging into the vulnerable area between his thighs. It’s not a hard stroke by any means, but it’s enough for him to roll off me with a muffled curse. I immediately miss his warmth and his weight on me. Nothing like telling a man you mean business by kneeing him square in the groin, I think, a bit ruefully.
“Touché,” he grunts, clutching himself between his legs and reeling to the side.
“I’m sorry, but you didn’t give me much choice. I fight to win.” I stand and reach down a hand to him. Roshan hesitates before accepting and wobbles gingerly to his feet. I swallow my guilt. “Come on, buttercup, I didn’t knee youthathard.”
“Try telling them that,” he says wryly with a downward glance to his crotch. “How about we carry on with the lesson later?” he grumbles. “I might need to find some ice.”
“I really am sorry.”
He smiles weakly. “Don’t worry, I’ll live. And never be sorry about winning, even if you have to fight dirty.” Roshan’s mouth twists. “My brother isn’t going to be honorable.”
That immediately sobers me.
He’s right, though. Sometimes, fighting dirty is the only thing that can keep you alive.
***
“I hate reading,” I grouse, and slump back in my chair.
As delighted as I was to discover that Nyriell has a tiny circulating library, this is not what I had in mind when Aran suggested some “light” research to prepare myself for our runic lessons. I’d much rather be with Roshan working in the forge.
Normally, the tightly packed aisles would feel like a place of wonder, the feel of the clothbound spines and the scent of the pages filling me with comfort, with a sense of home. But right now, this one feels like a prison.
“Why do I have to learn about ancient history?” I grumble. “Everyone knows the stories about akasha and the myths of the old gods. Also, this is all heresy.”
On the other side of the table, Aran looks amused by my outburst. “Who says? The monarchy?”
I flush at the clear judgment of my ingrained way of thinking and scowl harder.
“I thought you said you love reading,” he adds.
I glower at the pile of books on the table in front of me—all the size of bricks and weighing just as much, nary a spicy romance in sight, to my chagrin. “Not exactly what I was hoping for.”
“It’s important to understand where you come from to know where you need to go,” he says. “Much of history was both recorded and erased by those in power, so it’s especially important to bolster your thinking with a wide variety of books... particularly ones forbidden by the Oryndhrian crown.” He slides a thick tome over to me that looks older than dirt and gently cracks the spine open. “Try this one.”
Resigned to my fate for the next few hours, I prop my elbows on the table and gently pull the book closer. “‘Akasha is the infinite ether of the universe. Its rivers are the webs between the realms and the source of all magic,’” I intone. “‘Those rivers—sometimes called leylines or jadu threads—can be amplified by runes, specifically the runes of power.’” I groan out loud. “I know all this, Aran,” I complain, lifting my gaze to my companion, who is watching me with a smile on his face. “Why are you staring at me with that look? Did you expect me not to be able to read?”
He flips to another chapter and taps. “Try this page. Here.”
I roll my eyes but acquiesce, reading from where his finger rests. “‘The place where jadu threads, also called leylines, intersect is called an astrological vertex and contains the most concentrated amounts of akasha.’” I’ve never heard of a vertex, but I suppose the logic of connecting leylines and concentrated magic makes sense. I perk up with interest at the next line. “‘The astrological vertex in a person’s birth chart can also point to karmic encounters and soul-fated bonds.’” There’s a strange, hard tug deep in my center, and I gasp.
“What’s wrong?” Aran asks.
With a frown, I rub my abdomen—which then makes an obnoxious gurgle. Embarrassed, I wrinkle my nose. “Nothing. I’m just... a little hungry. What’s a vertex exactly?”
“It represents destiny or events outside of your control. It can be activated in many ways. For example, by coming into contact with the right person.”
