“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft, concerned.
“What do you care? I’m just an expendable human witch to you all.” All composure, all eloquence, gone. “Sure you don’t want to valen me somewhere private where you and your ilk can dissect me piece by piece, see why I’m sodifferent? Did it ever occur to any of youthat you haven’t seen a human in so damn long that maybe the only difference is my mortality? My humanity? You should try it, you know, the humanity part of it. Maybe it wasn’t woeful ignorance that kept us away for five centuries. Maybe we saw who you are,whatyou are, and chose decency, chose to forget. You can have your magic and your secret realm if this is the cost.”
Silence filled the space between us for a long moment.
“You’re trained with weapons,” Endymion said.
That was the last thing I’d expected him to say, and I didn’t know how to answer.
“The dance the other night,” he continued. “Only someone trained in the art of weaponry could have assessed me with such accuracy.” He stepped forward, taking my right hand in his, and I let him. Whether it was shock or a will that had burned out, I wasn’t sure.
His fingertip caressed the inside of my pointer finger, then padded tip of my thumb and middle fingers. “Your calluses, they’ve begun to fade, but they’re still there. They never really go away. It’s been, what, maybe three months since you last held a blade?” The question was directed more to himself. “It’s a shame, though; your hands tell me you throw with strength and precision. Do you see how clean this mark is?” He traced the callus. “This gives you away as a deadly thrower. It’s rare to see marks this clean. Blades make sense for you, though, as you’re so tiny.” He turned my hand over and laid it on his, accentuating his point—his fingers could have easily wrapped around mine. “Blades allow you to maintain distance from your enemy, which is to your advantage, even though you know how to fight.” Turning my hand back, knuckles now facing him, his thumb followed the scars I’d accumulated over years of sparing with Eithan.
Endymion gave a tentative smile, then released my hand.
“I am sorry, Nyleeria. It doesn’t matter to me why you can feel our powers; perhaps some humans always could. Wymond doesn’t trust easily, and he took his questioning too far. As for Amos, I didn’tknow about the wisp, and I’m deeply grieved for you, for what he did.” He looked at me as if he were ashamed to be in the same category as Amos—to be male.
The sincerity of his apology caressed the high walls I’d unwittingly built in my hot temper, and I felt more comforted by those words than I thought I should.
“Thank you,” I said, realizing he was the first to offer me such words.
“Nyleeria, would you like to throw with me? I know a place.”
The sweet release I craved from feeling cool steel between my fingers was like a drug I’d been deprived of—even though I could never forget how it felt. I couldn’t say no to a hit of that blessed release, even if it was a foolish idea.
In answer, I offered Endymion my hand, and he valenned us away.
Chapter 34
Floral Intricacies
My heels sank into the silken sand underfoot as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I unlaced the delicate shoes and slipped my feet out. Even though a waning Fenorryn, the second moon, stood alone, he was still bright enough to cast our shadows on the beach, which was bright with reflection.
Slow waves churned against the shore, and in the distance, the white tops of the cresting water carved lines across the dark expanse—it was the only discernible detail in this dim lighting.
I caught Endymion drinking me in.
“What is it?” I asked, unable to bear the weight of his gaze.
“It’s just…seeing you experience things for the first time fills me with a sense of warmth I’m not sure I’ve felt before. It’s a different kind of happiness to witness someone else’s wonderment, and not something us fae encounter often—if at all.”
“Why not?”
“Simply put, when you’re immortal, there comes a point in time when you’ve experienced almost everything, and unless you’re surrounded by children, you’re with other immortals whose zest forlife has dulled over time. Experiencing things, exploring, wondering, searching, finding—it’s rare.”
“It must be sad to live a life without hope.” Nevander had even said as much, and I supposed even immortality had a cost.
“Perhaps that’s how some experience it. But I think it’s more the spark within you, the light of life, the fiery passion, your tenacity… That combination is foreign, possibly forgotten, among us immortals. I think that’s the part of you that unnerves others. Belief, faith, and wonderment could all be seen as forms of magic in their own right, should you be looking close enough.”
My heart skipped a beat—spark. For him to choose that exact word…
“But it doesn’t frightenyou?” I asked.
“No. I don’t fear you, Nyleeria. I believe you’ve intersected with our lives by the stars, the Mother, and perhaps even the gods, to teach us something. To remind us of our own humanity, as you call it.”
I took him in. How he saw things, how he sawme… It was a beautiful way of thinking. Perhaps he had wonderment of his own to share with the world. I stood there, speechless, thinking over what he’d just expressed. How right he was about my spark unnerving others, but how wrong he was as to why. Then again, maybe he was more right than either of us knew.
“I’ve never trained in the dark,” I admitted, changing the subject.
