That had to be the reason that I answered him truthfully. That and the dimple.
“When the Dark God created the witches, he endowed us with certain gifts. Among them is the heightening of the senses. All of them.” My eyes drifted closed, needing to cut off one of those senses so that I could continue, so I could try and make him understand. “I can hear your heartbeat, and Varian’s. I can taste the dust from the pyrite that Isanara crunches between her teeth, feel the subtle moisture in the air that tells me we will have fresh snow tonight.”
“Amazing,” he said softly, the rhythm of his heart speeding up slightly. I felt him lean forward into the space between us, the subtle movement of air whooshing over the exposed sections of my skin.
“Overwhelming,” I choked out. I noticed every place the syllables scraped over my throat. “Sometimes… sometimes it feels like a physical pain. A pounding in my head, a knife in my chest.”And then my power breaks free.
I did not tell him that.
I’d never admitted that weakness aloud. If Maura or my other coven sisters suspected, they’d never voiced their guesses aloud. And Garrick… somehow, his warmth calmed my rampant frost and ice. But not even he knew how I lost control.
“I think the meditation could help.”
I blinked, my attention refocusing on Tomin. He’d retreated a bit, but there was an eagerness in the set of his shoulders and earnestness in his honey-gold eyes. My stomach tightened, urging me back. Another attempt to control me, the dark voice in my mind insisted. To protect me from myself. Another who found me less than.
No. Tomin wanted to help. That difference was everything.
I laid a hand on Isanara’s side below the line of wickedly sharp spikes. Her iridescent wing flared slightly but then settled again as one yellow-green eye flicked around to look at me. Idoubted dragons could smile, but there was definitely approval in that glance.
I let her even breathing steady me. “Would you teach me?” I asked Tomin. “I promise not to run away or yell at you this time.”
The dimple in his cheek popped as Tomin leaned further forward and offered his hands, palms up. “Of course.”
Isanara chuffed when I removed my hand from her side, but she curled her head around and watched as I slid my hands into Tomin’s. I told myself I imagined the dip of her jaw in a facsimile of a nod.
Tomin took me through the same steps as he had in the temple before the Sacrifice Gate. First, we focused on breathing, then on rooting myself in a place of safety. This time, the image that came to my mind was drenched in darkness, a lone fire in the forest. On one side, the rhythmic breathing of a dragon, on the other, a set of glowing turquoise orbs.
At some point, Garrick disappeared through the trees, sent by Varian to gather enough firewood to last through the night. I tried to block them out as Tomin instructed, but Garrick was always there, at the edge of my consciousness.
A lone crow cawed overhead, its deep, melodious notes echoing through the trees. The sound was unusually deep and musical.
When Tomin finally released my hands, my power was quiet. Still there, but less demanding, even when the smells of our evening meal mingled with the sharp call of Varian’s voice and the crunch of Garrick’s footsteps in the snow as he returned to camp.
Hours later, just as I fell asleep with Isanara stretched on one side and Garrick sitting first watch on the other, it began to snow.
CHAPTER 44
“Putyour full weight behind your lunge. You are not going to injure me,” Garrick said after he put me on my ass for the fourth time.
“Are you suggesting that I am holding back out of concern for you?” I spat as I clambered back to my feet. Literally spat—his last punch had caught my chin and flooded my mouth with the coppery taste of my own blood.
We had parted ways with Varian and Tomin after breakfast, the priestess and acolyte starting a downward path through the mountains while Garrick suggested an upward alternative. Because why the fuck not.
Though I had to admit that the cliffside plateau he’d chosen for our afternoon sparring session had a breathtaking view. I imagined I could see all the way to Kyrelle’s tiny fishing village on the shores of the Southern Fate. Of course, I’d rather have imagined it from my feet than flat on my back from yet another punishing blow.
“You are embarrassing us both,”Isanara put in from where she dangled her tail over the ledge. I’d taken one look over the sheer cliffside and made sure that my back was always to thestone face several yards away. My winged familiar took no such precautions.
“If I could kill you, I would,” I hissed between my teeth, trying to moderate my breathing the way Tomin had shown me and purposefully ignoring Isanara. “I am not improving.”
Garrick did not offer me a hand up. Bastard.
He also did not argue—because he couldn’t. Despite nearly daily sessions, I was only marginally better at defending myself. I could force my body through the maneuvers he showed me, but even as they became a matter of muscle memory, they were not smooth or fast. At least, not fast enough to defeat Garrick.
“You’ve built up your endurance,” he said, already circling for his next attack.
That much was true. I wanted to kill him, but the breath scissoring in and out of my chest did not burn anymore, and we’d been at it for nearly an hour. He’d forced me to condition my begrudging body with every upward step.
Instead of admitting it, I lifted my dagger for what felt like the hundredth time.
