“Kaelun,” I said, reaching for him blindly as I tried to stay calm from my lack of sight. The magic was beautiful, but what if I couldn’t see past it? What if there was something wrong? “I can’t see.” My hand connected with his bare forearm—the magical leathers having receded their sleeves as the day warmed. “I can’t see,” I said again, this time more panicked.
Kaelun didn’t answer; instead, he took a deep breath and relaxed. A heartbeat later, the magic of his unara was like mist along my bare skin. “Ah. I see,” he said, and something in his tone soothed me enough to stop my panic from taking over. “It’s really quite beautiful.”
“Kaelun, please.”
“Sorry,” he said. “Look for a golden thread—it will be slightly thicker than the rest.”
I searched frantically through the infinite threads, but it was like trying to read the page beneath the current one, the thin parchment obscuring them. “I can’t see it, Kaelun,” I said, my voice shaking.
“It’s okay, Lady Nyleeria. You’re safe. It’s just, you’ve never had access to elemental magic in the Autumn Court, so right now you’re attuning to the wrong court, which happens for us naturally. I’m assuming it’s because you were tapped, and you used arcane magic to cross over.”
“How do I fix it?”
“If you can’t see it, then feel for the one that vibrates differently from the rest—like an instrument that’s out of tune.”
It didn’t take long before I felt exactly that. “Now what?” I breathed.
“Now, you pluck it in your mind’s eye as if you were summoning an element.”
Taking a breath, I reached for the vibration and plucked it. Every thread turned a stunning coppery gold that shimmered like the sun dancing on a lake before they all disappeared and I could see again. “Stars,” I said, putting a hand on my chest. “That was?—”
“—intense,” Kaelun answered for me, a bright smile on his face.
“Yeah.” I chuckled. “Will that happen again?”
“No.” He shook his head. “You’re good to go and should be able to wield normally.”
I looked up at Artton, silently asking for permission to summon. He nodded, his lake-blue eyes drowning in relief.
As promised, without issue all four elements billowed above my right palm one after another, and I was finally able to take a breath.
The afternoon sun abandoned us much earlier than I’d become accustomed to, and I was grateful we reached the cave shortly after our breaths began to billow in the cloudless, crisp night air. Like in the Summer Court, Kaleatia was absent, though the other moons offered more than enough light to aid Tarrin as he led us during the last leg.
When we arrived, Sidrick and Tarrin went to hunt while Kaelun stood guard at the mouth of the cave. The entrance was narrow enough that I was surprised Tarrin ever attempted entering with his large frame. Artton and I had to shuffle sideways for twenty paces or so before the neck opened up into a beautiful cavern that was home to an underground spring.
Kneeling over the tiny stream, I washed my arms off then splashed my face, the cool fresh liquid washing off the last few days.
“You know,” Artton said from behind me as he laid our bedrolls around the smokeless magical fire he’d conjured, “you realize you can summon water now that we’re on fae lands, you don’t have to cower over a dribbling stream to wash yourself.”
I splashed my face again, then cupped my hands together and let them fill with water before bringing it up and drinking it down. Standing, I flicked my hands before wiping them on my pants as I joined him by the fire. “Old habit, I guess. Besides, it doesn’t taste the same.”
Laying out the last bedroll, he side-eyed me. “You mean it doesn’t taste like sentiment and decaying leaves?” he quipped.
“Ha. Ha.”
Smirking, he sat on the bedroll beside me. “Do you miss it?” he asked, and my brows furrowed not understanding his question. “Being human, I mean.”
“Oh,” I said, taken aback. “I’m not sure.” I shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it. Though I’d be lying if I said my heartdoesn’t lust for the days when a blade was just a blade and a fire was made the good-old-fashioned way.”
A sad smile caressed his mouth, but he didn’t press further allowing us to slip into our thoughts.
“Artton?” I asked after long minutes.
“What is it, Spark?”
“What if I’m not what you all need me to be? What if we’d all be better if we let one of you take the spark? What if?—”
“Stop,” he said, cutting me off, and it was an effort not to look away from the swirling intensity of his azure eyes. “Stop questioningifyou’re meant to be the spark—ifyou’re good enough. It’s insulting to the ancients that sacrificed everything to preserve our essence. You act as if you’re Nyleeria, anditis some sort of parasite that can just be taken out and passed to another. Have you ever taken a moment to think aboutwhyit would’ve killed you if Thaddeus succeeded?”
