She discovered that some of the movements she’d been taught as a child were wrong. What she’d been learning from Kevrid and the basic movements the Worshippers used for the shadow stones were… weak. She even learned that with a few extra twitches of her wrists, she could more than double her energy.
Gods. She’d been handicapped her entire life. Perhaps even the Veil Worshippers were afraid of the real strength of shadow magic.
Brela found the shade spell that had once made her entire room disappear, the same one she’d used with Elias at Lord Ihon’s manor to help them escape. She memorized a new illusion spell that could disguise sound. She nearly gasped when she discovered that there was a way to make shadows… solid. Well, as solid as liquid smoke and fire could be, since the description seemed to match what the celvusa’s body had been made of. Hells, she’d felt how solid the shadow wolf’s claw had been.
Brela studied the different gestures described in the wall of text, learning that certain movements could result in different forms of solid magic. Whips, daggers… shields.
Four hells. This magic could create a wall of protection. Could this have been the magic the shadow god had used to create the Veil wall? Did having a gods-level strength of magic allow Ryia to create that purple and black obsidian? Is that why the magic had bled into Brela’s skin and given her power?
Brela finally reached the command section of the book, learning the history of Ryia and the celvusa. Here, they were commonly referred to as gods-awarded familiars and guardians, for those who were deemed worthy of protection. That was much different than what she’d heard before, granted, most of what she’d learned about the creatures had been wiped from texts when the library and temple were destroyed. Stories always warped over time, so it didn’t surprise her to read something different.
Could the celvusa they encountered at Gerrart’s have been assigned to protect the Veil Scholar’s dagger? Was it somehow tied to one of those shards embedded in the hilt? Considering many believed the celvusa were molded into the wall, perhaps a piece of the creature had fallen out of the wall and been bound to the blade.
Her ears twitched.
Shadows shifted behind the door. The Veil shard pulsed.
Brela shut the book quickly, her knife already pinched between her fingers and ready to fly.
The handle turned, door swinging open. “Serill, I really hate it when you—”
She stopped her forward momentum. Cason’s eyes widened and grip tensed on the book in his hand, his legs already poised for attack. That quickly turned to confusion. “What are you doing—”
“Reading,” she snapped, dropping her hand to her side. “What are you—”
“Returning Serill’s book,” he snapped back just as quickly, relaxing his shoulders as he let out a breath.
Brela raised her eyebrow and gestured to his hands. “Were you going to throw that book at me?”
He opened his mouth to snap back, glanced at his hands, and shut his mouth in defeat.
She fought back laughter. “Hold on. You have an insane amount of fire magic coursing through you and your first thought was to throw a book at me?”
“Shut up,” he grumbled, tossing the book on the table next to the pile Brela had set out.
“What is this?” she asked, leaning over to look at the cover. “Were you reading a romance novel?”
“What?” he blurted, cheeks already burning red. “Serill left it in my room today, I swear…” Cason continued to stammer as he looked to the book he had just tossed aside. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he glared at her out of the corner of his eye. “Knives of the Ancients. You’re the worst.”
Brela chuckled. “Serill seems to enjoy flirting with me for you.”
He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath as he folded his arms. Muscles tensed along his jaw and chest, so incredibly tantalizing under the thin white shirt that hid absolutely nothing. Gods, she’d known he was powerful, but there wereso many tattoos.What she’d give to see those swirls of fire ink again, trace them with her fingers and tongue…
That gods-damned heat burned through her and she had to clamp down on her desire fast.
Where the hells did her fortress go?Shit.
Count the nightmares in her life.Shadow wolves under her bed, Gerrart, the King of Severina, Ovir.
Even with dulled senses, Cason would absolutely pick up on the change in her body temperature, amongst other telling vitals. But four hells, he had no right to be so damn handsome. Even exhausted, he looked like a damn god. His blonde hair was ruffled as if his hand had been running through it all day, yet still perfectly fitting for the uptight captain. Shirt and pants were wrinkled, even though his muscles still seemed to stretch them to their limits. So many muscles…
Cason forced a breath, seemingly unaware of her failing restraint, and changed the subject. “Why are you here?”
“I told you I was reading,” she replied, trying to hide the slight hitch in her voice.Focus. “Just because I’m a Veil Worshipper doesn’t mean I don’t know my basic letters.”
“Or your ancient ones either, it seems,” Cason said, nodding toward the shadow magic tome. “Should I be worried?”
“There’s information in here about shadow magic. You know, that massive power that Ryia used to create the wall? If I can learn something about the magic that built the damn thing, I might figure out what’s causing it to break. Or determine if Anfroy has found a way to break it.”
