The next blast hits harder, but I’m ready. I move with it, not against it, each pulse of energy dissolving before it can reach me. I can feel the calm settle over me, steady and certain. For the first time, I’m not reacting out of fear. I’m choosing what to do with the power inside me.
Malrik’s lips thin. “You’re not fighting. You’re…harmonizing. That’s not going to help find—” He stops himself. “Again.”
My pulse skips. Find what, exactly? He’s looking for something or maybe even someone. And whatever it is, I’m the key. Damn it. I know I said I was going to leave without answers, but now I’m intrigued.
“Maybe if you’d tell me what it is you actually expect of me, then I could do a better job of becoming the circus monkey you want.”
He snarls. “I want you to absorb the fucking power, Rowan. Is that too much to ask?”
“Yes, actually.” I stand taller, stalking toward him. Fully-clothed-me isn’t as afraid of this man as naked-me. “I’ve willingly let you beat on me for weeks now. I’ve gotten up every day and done exactly as you’ve asked. Sure, I probably annoy the shit out of you with my commentary, but you can’t deny I’ve been cooperating. Give something more than, ‘again’. Tell me what I’m supposed to be doing because if it’s what I’ve already mastered, I’m lost, and that makes me useless to you.”
In the words of Iris… Buttered bunions, I didn’t mean to go that far, but honestly, it felt freaking amazing.
I stay standing before him, sure and confident, and unmoving. I’m done with these games. I can’t do this anymore. I need to understand what the purpose of all of this is. I can’t imagine he actually wants me to eliminate the entire supernatural species. What would be the point? So he can lord over the humans by himself? That sounds stupidly boring.
His nostrils flare, and that’s all the warning I get before the air splits open with a sound like tearing metal. The lightaround him twists black, thick and heavy, coiling through the air like smoke made solid.
My stomach drops.
I try to block the energy, but the blast hits me square in the chest. The impact sends me to my knees, the world flashing white before it dissolves into sound—runes screaming, stone groaning, air vibrating like it’s alive.
When I look up, cracks spiderweb through the glowing sigils, light bleeding out of them like molten glass. Malrik sways, his skin pale, a sheen of sweat on his temple.
Though I doubt I look any better, I’m not nearly as panicked as he seems with that wide set in his eyes. Like, even he can’t believe he just did that. Or maybe he’s just surprised I’m still not dead.
Let’s be honest, I am, too.
The connection between us burns—his pain rippling through the air like an echo. The first signs of an answer that feels just out of reach.
I push to my feet, shaking but not giving up. Never. The room is destroyed, broken stone can be seen everywhere, but my gaze keeps coming back to Malrik.
He’s not okay.
He coughs once, voice raw. “Do you think you’ve won something?”
I stay calm and keep the distance between us now. “No, but I think I’m finally beginning to understand you.”
His brows knit together, and he stays silent, seeming to wait for me to reveal what I’m only now putting together.
I could be way off the mark here, but looking around us, watching how this castle is controlled and how hispower has radiated only in this space, surrounded by runes…
Malrik isn’t all-powerful. He’s conditionally so.
That doesn’t make me believe him to be weak, but I’m also no longer afraid, which is what pisses him off so much.
I’m everything he isn’t.
He’s formidable, yes. Maybe even the first hybrid—born of Hollowborn and supernatural blood.
But he isn’t the Ashmark.
He isn’t me.
But he wants to be.
He told me he understands me because we are both special, we’re both hated just because of our bloodlines…but this goes deeper than that.
I may not know how far or why, but I suddenly don’t need to.
