It was a fact, universally known, that when one ascribed to a particular talent—be it telepathy or telekinesis—they were often weaker in the other major field of sorcery.
She couldn’t have set the library on fire.
She wouldn’t have.
She might be able to light the grate on a cold night if she concentrated, but to launch such an assault? Doubtful.
“It’s not my natural talent,” she reminded him. “You know who it does remind me of? A loud, flashy entrance? Explosions in the book stacks? Fireballs raining down upon both man and imp alike? An utterly gaudy display of strength and prowess….” Edwina tapped her finger against her lips. “I can’t quite put my finger on it. But he was there that night too.”
“Ha ha,” he replied. “I was flat on my back with an imp at my throat and another preparing to launch off the desk at me. You know what I recall, Edie?”
“Miss Sheffield,” she said pointedly.
Another smile. “I recall you screaming at me to look out, and then as the imp leaped toward me, you flung your hands out and a wave of fire washed over us all. You set my coat alight. My bloody breeches too. It’s taken me two weeks to regrow my eyelashes.”
“I did not.”
“Did too.” Sterling took a taunting step closer.
“If such an act came from me,” she ground out, “then it would have been an act of Expression.” It was the way all sorcerers first revealed their magic. Uncontrolled acts of expressive magic, often driven by emotion and not reason. Powerful—and dangerous. The very first thing a sorcerer learned in their apprenticeship was that giving in to such irrational bursts of power could be deadly. “You would have to report me to the Order.”
“I’m not bloody reporting you to anyone,” he growled. “It’s alright to admit you were scared… Miss Sheffield. It’s alright to admit you were worried about me. You were trying to protect me.”
She drew back. Was that what he thought?
“I….”
She had been scared. And it flashed through her mind again: The imp baring sharp teeth and claws as it leapt for Sterling’s unprotected back as he tried to fling the one at his throat off him.
“Sterling!” she’d screamed.
And….
She couldn’t remember anything else. Only the aftermath.
“Edie, Edie, it’s alright.” Hands cupping her face. Sterling becoming the whole and center of her vision, though it was a Sterling she’d never seen before. One smeared with soot and bloodied in places. And the look on his face— She didn’t think she’d ever seen him look worried before. “Edie, you’re safe. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”
And then she’d flung her arms around his neck and sobbed into his coat, and?—
No.
No.
Some things were best left in the darkest recesses of her mind.
“But that’s not the reason you’re so upset, is it?” There was a knowing look in his eyes. “That’s not the reason you handed in your resignation. In the past three years you’ve been working for me, you’ve faced down Dead Men Walking; an incubus with a taste for flesh; and a set of gravediggers who were intent on summoning a demon, and yet, you’ve never flinched until now.”
Surely, he wasn’t going to mention it….
Heat flamed through her cheeks, and Edwina tipped her chin up. “Don’t you dare.”
“Dare what?” That challenging eyebrow went up.
“I am done with you and this entire affair! I am done with mayhem,” she snapped, “and you simply striding into my library whenever you please and insisting I set off upon some madcap scheme. I have had it with dueling with imps! I have had it with running from black magic! And I am most certainly done with you!”
Sterling stepped closer, the faint hint of his cologne threading its way through her sinuses, and then her veins, weaving warm traces of?—
No.
