“You’re impossible.”
“And yet you invited me to stay.”
The reminder sends a faint warmth through my chest that has nothing to do with the glow in my hands.
“I invited you because you keep burning people,” I say.
“Only the ones who deserve it.”
“That is not a comforting standard.”
“Then you had better learn control quickly,” he replies lightly.
The glow around my fingers fades entirely. I look down at my hands again in quiet disbelief.
“You stopped it.”
“No,” Threxian says gently.
His gaze meets mine with quiet certainty.
“You did.”
“That is the difference,” Threxian says.
“Between what?”
“Fear and terror.”
Understanding dawns slowly.
“The alley was panic,” I whisper.
“Yes.”
“And this…”
“This,” he replies, “is fear under control.”
Later that morningwe walk through the village square. The whispers begin immediately. One man near the well looks directly at me and sneers.
“Witch.”
The word still hurts and fear flickers as usual, but this time I recognize it before it spreads. I inhale slowly. The bond remains calm. No fire follows. The man frowns slightly as though disappointed. Beside me, Threxian watches with obvious satisfaction.
“Well done, princess.”
I glance at him.
“You’re smiling.” I note, a little surprised.
“I am.”
“You’re insufferably proud of yourself.”
“I am insufferably proud of you.”
The warmth in the bond deepens unexpectedly. Or is it just me? Hope rises quietly in my chest.
