The clash of steel ceased abruptly, prompting me to glance over my shoulder; we’d been made. They looked in our direction, leaning their swords against the massive pillars of the training facility before greedily drinking water between labored breaths.
Tarrin moved toward them, and I followed.
As we approached, my attention was immediately ensnared by Nevander. I couldn’t stop my eyes from canvassing every finely chiseled detail of his physique, even if I wanted to. I hadn’t known such a specimen existed until now. His body would have been an artist’s dream, even down to the tapering V that continued below his pantline. I had to stop myself from biting my lip in response to what stood before me.
The king’s muscular back was turned toward us. The shadows cast along its rippling contours whispered a tantalizing promise that the front was every bit as formidable as Nevander’s, if not more so.
Tarrin chuckled again.
“Shut up,” I said, shooting him a warning look.
He raised his hands in innocence.
The king turned toward us, his face lighting up with a smile. “Nyleeria, what a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you out and about.”
I swallowed. He had, in fact, raised the bar. Swallowing, I forced myself to answer him. “I needed connection.”
He smiled in understanding.
The king was now within an arm’s length of us, and it was only then that I realized the blemish I’d mistaken for a birthmark was something else entirely.
“You’re injured,” I said, and without a thought, I laid my hands over the lesion. I sensed the bristling tension from the other two but didn’t allow their presence to pull my focus.
The markings were a rich shade of onyx, fading into a midnight blue along the edges. My hand couldn’t quite cover the largest splotch that marred his torso. I traced my fingers along the spidering tendrils that wrapped around his sides. He shivered at the touch, and I halted, looking up at him in question. He offered me a soft smile of permission, and I continued following the lines to his back until they faded out of existence. Coming back around the front, I laid my hands atop the wounds once more. I noticed then the heat that radiated from them like a burn.
“I did this,” I whispered, meeting his gaze, knowing that truth in my soul.
He kept his unyielding focus on me as I eased my shoes off, allowing the soles of my feet to commune with the vibrant life teeming beneath. Closing my eyes, I let myself get lost in the Mother’s presence and yielded fully to her. A soft, tingling current entered my hands and tickled as the dark energy traveled through me down to the ground, where the Mother absorbed it. Within moments, all I could feel was the king’s slick skin under my palms. I opened my eyes to find the marks had vanished.
I turned my focus to Tarrin, doubting he was unmarred by the shock he’d received in the aftermath of my failed attempt at magic.
“Lift your shirt,” I said.
He cocked a brow before pulling his shirt over his head. His lesions weren’t nearly as bad as the king’s, but there were more of them. I laid my hands gently on his broad chest and watched as the darkness slowly seeped out of him and into my fingertips, making its way up my arms beneath the gossamer sleeves until my clothing obscured where it traveled next. I didn’t dare move until the energy had fully dissipated.
I withdrew from Tarrin, noting that his body was now free from the onyx veins that had laced it seconds before. He moved to redress, and I seized his hand. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Tarrin.”
A solitary tear filled with guilt and fear traced a path down my face.
Tarrin looked like he was about to respond, but before he could, the king said, “Excuse us.”
Tarrin and Nevander offered us both a small nod of acknowledgment before taking their leave.
Now clothed, the king’s full attention was directed toward me. He held my gaze in silence, and I buckled under the weight of it. With the dam of emotions now cracked open, a river of tears rushed out as I cried in earnest—finally feeling the weight of everything that’d transpired.
He pulled me into his chest and hugged me tight as heaving sobs escaped me.
I slowly found my breath again and pulled away from his embrace, wiping away my tears.
“I’m sorry,” I said, keeping my head downcast, unable to look up at him.
His strong hand tilted my chin up. Eyes soft, he said, “What could you possibly have to apologize for?”
A million reasons hit me all at once. A vision of my parents on the couch. The guilt of their deaths and possibly the twins’. Eithan being better off without me. Not saying goodbye to Mrs. E, or even sending word that I was okay. Knowing anyone close to me was likely in mortal danger. My inability to wield spells. Hurting him and Tarrin. Those were just a few of the reasons that flooded me, but I couldn’t voice any of them, so I settled for, “Everything,” and more tears stained my cheeks as we held each other’s gaze.
He continued to keep his hand under my chin. “Nyleeria,” he leaned down and whispered into my ear, “none of this is your fault.” The air from his words sent a shiver down my body. He pulled back and looked into my eyes, then repeated more slowly, “None of this is your fault. You have done nothing wrong.” I’m not sure what he saw in my expression, but he added, “And there is nothing wrong with you.”
I blinked, and more tears cascaded down my cheeks. Looking intently at me, the king gently wiped them away.
