The bright bounce of midday light off white snow scalded my eyes as I wrenched the door open, but I pushed through the pain. I had to escape the feelings threatening the wall around my heart.
Cold air rushed into my lungs like relief. The stinging in my nose was a welcome distraction. I kept my back to the cottage, focusing on the swell of my mágik. It grew and pulsed within me, reaching that cusp before overwhelm.
Water raced along my hands, twining around my arms and floating into the air around me in gravity defying rivulets. The barest hint of an ethereal glow poured forth—a ghost of the luminescent mágik that had spilled from me in the depths of the spring, but present nonetheless.
I focused on the feeling of control I now felt over the power within me. It stood in stark contrast to the wild beating of my heart.
There was still much to learn about my mágik and about myself, but when I considered the turn my life had taken over the past few weeks, I could not help the swell of something like pride that blossomed in my chest.
The Seren of only a few weeks past was a woman crippled by the weight of five years of grief, closed off from the hurt the world could dole but also from the joy that it might hold. I still felt the pain of my losses—I knew that I would always carry them with me—but I dared to consider the possibilities of a life lived once more.
Though only a handful of weeks had passed, I felt as if I had been awakened from a cursed slumber. I did not want to surrender to the chains wrapped around my heart—long since rusted—but still, I feared the inevitable pain of filling it with happiness and love only to find myself without it once more.
I pondered the crossroads I found myself in. A pathway to the pain of my past led west through the Varázis Erva to the shambles of a life left behind. To the east, a new home and a family of my own making.
I would have to make my choice soon, but it was hardly a choice at all. It was time to move forward. I would remember Luca and honor him. I would cherish the memory of what my family had once been, but I would also choose something different for myself. I only had to let my weary heart catch up with the conclusions my head had already come to.
Harkin pulled me from my musings with the barest touch on my elbow. “You’re doing so well.”
With the slightest gesture, I let the water dissipate into mist. The sun caught it in a hazy rainbow. I turned so I faced Harkin, and I was struck with a feeling of such fondness, I nearly bowled over.
My stomach dropped, and I fought the urge to ruin the softness between us. I failed.
“What happens at the end of this, Harkin? When you take me to Acsilla, what really happens?” I studied my boots with ferocious intensity, every stain and scuff suddenly interesting to my avoidant eyes.
“Prince Claudian—”
“The truth,” I commanded. “Please, just tell me the truth.”
Harkin remained silent, and I forced myself to meet his eye. I saw only displeasure within them.
“I don’t know,” he finally said.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” My voice rose, frustration sprouting within my racing thoughts.
“It was not my place to ask questions, Ren. I was ordered to train your mágik and deliver you to the palace by the winter solstice. That is all I know, I swear it.” Harkin ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots. He blew out a hard breath.
“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” That unshakable fear still clutched at me, gripping my throat in its relentless claws.
“I am telling you the truth, and I can’t prove it. I have never wished you harm, Ren. I have told you before, and I will tell you again. I would not lead you into danger—not if I could help it. You have to decide now whether or not you trust me.” Harkin’s eyes flicked away, his lips turned down in a frown. I wanted to wipe it from his face, repaint it into a smile.
“Hmm…” A grin tugged at the corners of my own mouth, but it quickly downturned.
Disquiet roiled in my belly. It reminded me of the feeling I had as we had traveled through the forest all those weeks past—unfamiliar and untrusting. I could not help but ponder the way his personality had swung this way and that, adapting as he attempted to manipulate me. I could still feel the grip his mágik had held over my emotions, pushing me over the edge in an explosion of anger and frustration and wild mágik. The way he had lulled me into a terrifying numbness.
Harkin promised me that he would be real. No more pretenses. No more manipulation. But what if he had broken that promise? What if that feeling of warmth and tenderness crushing me was another of his ruses?
Anger and fear flooded my body, washing away the butterflies in a familiar darkness.
I saw it on his face, the moment Harkin noticed my change in attitude. His brows dropped, eyes studying me as he moved closer. I backed away with a hand raised between us.
“What’s wrong, Ren?” Harkin was alight with worry, hands clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes—darker in the shade of the treeline—darted across my face. Was his concern genuine, or was he simply trying to discern if I had uncovered his plan?
It was suddenly so clear to me. It explained everything. My openness to using mágik, and the way I felt my entire body relax beside Harkin’s steady presence.
I did not regret that his manipulations had led me to a change of heart about my mágik and about the Rázuri; I finally felt like I could accept the person I was becoming. What I would not accept was thesoftening that Harkin had forced upon me. I was so far from hating him. I could not name the feeling growing between us—I would not. I reminded myself that this was an alliance and nothing more. I would hold up my end of the bargain, and I would make sure he did the same.
I turned away from Harkin, then back. My hands shook, and I could not still them no matter how I tried. My words were quiet, voice low and gravely. Anger dripped from the vowels like venom. “Stop making me feel this way.”
