“Tarrin,” I chided.
“Fine.” He sighed. “No ruffling of feathers, rocking boats, waking hounds, stirring pots, or whatever other things you fae prefer to leave alone.”
“Cute,” Artton said and cut a warning look to Kaelun, who was holding back a smile, which faded instantly the second his uncle’s no-nonsense look landed on him.
“Artton,” I said, “let’s not re-escalate things. Besides, you can’t really get mad when you get a taste of your own medicine.” Tarrin’s shoulders shook with silent laughter from the corner of my eye as the three fae looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “What?” I said.
Brow now cocked, Artton crossed his arms. “Taste of my own medicine? What does that even mean?”
“I think it’s a human saying,” Kaelun said, though his tone held zero confidence.
Rolling my eyes, I let out a sigh as I leaned down and swept my rucksack up off the snowy ground. “It means,” I said, sliding the pack on, “that now you know what it feels like to put up with your smartass remarks.”
Thoroughly unimpressed, Artton kicked snow over the remnants of the fire, snuffing it out. “Humans,” he grumbled under his breath, slipping his own pack on.
Catching my attention, Tarrin mouthedfaeand crossed his arms in a perfect imitation of Artton.
Behave,I mouthed back, the corner of my mouth pulling up despite myself, which had a genuine smile blooming across his face.
Without another word—silent or otherwise—we slipped into our single-file line and followed Artton toward the Autumn Court border.
I’d been fine with the silence throughout the day. Honestly, it gave everyone a moment to collect themselves. Besides, other than training, the quietude of nature was my favorite thing in any realm. But now, the sounds of the fresh snow compacting under our steps was deafening, or maybe it was my thoughts. Not for the first time over the past hour I was rubbing my sternum, like something was missing, or calling for me, or… I don’t know. Then, without warning, a wave of crushing anxiety rushed over me, stealing my breath. I gasped and reached to my right to grab at something, anything, to help me stay upright, only I was met by air.
“Nyleeria,” Sidrick called from behind. In a blink he was there, hands on my shoulders to support me before I fell, and something in his deep-brown eyes had me flashing back to the other night when I’d lost control.
I grabbed his wrists and pushed him off me as I stared into those eyes that would forever remind me of the fertile soil at the base of the Nettorian Mountains where the farmers tended never-ending rows of crops. The rush of anxiety was still making me dizzy, but I blinked at him as the memory replayed again and again.
“Ny,” Tarrin’s concerned voice asked from close by. I didn’t look at him. I didn’t respond. I just stared at Sidrick with disbelief.
“You stole my powers,” I whispered.
He didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink. He’d known the second I’d pushed him off that I’d remembered. “And you.” I turned to Artton. “You said nothing happened.” Refocusing on the fae who tried to steal my powers, I moved toward him, my fingers deftly releasing a magical blade from its sheath before my left foot had hit the ground, and the cool metal resting comfortably between my fingers was ready to strike. “Caius claimed thatyou didn’t learn anything from my shared memory, that you couldn’t steal my magic,” I seethed. “What did you do to me? Why did you have to go back to the Summer Court? To report back to Caius, let him know that your secret mission of stealing the spark was unsuccessful? And what was in the note? Orders that your court has also allied with my enemies, that you’re going to hand me over to save yourselves, but not before draining me of my powers?” I raised my blade to his throat.
“Whoa!” Kaelun said, slipping between his brother and me so that the dagger came to his neck instead. “Whoa,” he said again, hands up, eyes dropping to the very deadly blade to his throat.
“Nyleeria,” Artton ordered.
“It’s okay, Uncle Artton. She’s not going to hurt me.”
My eyes narrowed in challenge, and I leaned a little more of my weight forward so that the blade pressed against the olive skin he shared with his brother. Kaelun’s hazel eyes were alight with endless emotions, but the most predominant one was sadness—for me.
“Speak,” I said to Kaelun.
“I know you have no reason to trust us, Lady Nyleeria.” I bristled at the honorific. “But I need you to reach for the spark for me, okay?” His heart was pounding so hard that the vein on his neck pulsed under the blade I held there.
“Why?” I ground out. “So he can steal it again?” I pointed my chin behind him toward his older brother, who didn’t dare move.
“No,” Kaelun said, the word holding more softness than I thought possible, “because you’ll be able to feel that it’s all there. He never touched it. I promise. I watched the entire thing. I can see it nestled in you now.”
My brows pulled together, unsure if it was a trick, but I was compelled to listen by the honesty with which his hazel eyes stared back at me. Before I dared reach for my magic, I wrapped my fingers around the hilt of Eithan’s dagger and released it from its sheath with my left hand, just in case.
It took less than a heartbeat to find the fullness of my power tucked away, as if content to rest until she was called into action.Kaelun was right—there was no turmoil, and nothing was fractured. As if knowing I’d found this truth, he said, “Now, reach for your elemental magic.”
I looked for the threads… only there weren’t any. At least not in a discernible way. To say that I could see them would be like saying I could see someone on the other side of a powerful waterfall—sure, I might glimpse them when the light hits right, but had I not known they were there in the first place, I would’ve never noticed them. “He tapped my elemental magic?” I asked, my voice a mere whisper.
“Yes,” Kaelun said with a nod, wincing at himself for forgetting he had a blade to his throat.
I looked over his shoulder to his older brother. “How?”
