I planted my face in my knees and took a breath.
If I fought at Reese's side in Minsawa, he or Ishii would see the monsters avoiding me, doing me no harm. It wouldn't take long for them to draw conclusions about why I'd survived Galasvar.
Why hadn't they harmed me? Why had that vined horror dropped me as though attacking me had been a grave mistake?
Who was I, really?
"Can't sleep?"
I shot to my feet and reached for a sword that wasn't there. Reese approached me, sleeves rolled up like it was a pleasant summer day.
A black glove still covered one arm. I hadn't noticed in the room.
Reese flicked his wrist, and his golden rapier appeared in his grip. I blinked, wondering when he'd pulled it from his sheath.
"We might as well fit in some training," he said, standing opposite me.
"Training?" I repeated in disbelief.
He stepped closer. Heat washed over me—heat that always seemed to pulse from his skin. "I know what you're going through. All Paragons have. You don't want to talk about it; you want to forget it."
I looked down, avoiding his gaze. He was right. I didn't want to talk about it. "Alright. Let me get Cierthine."
He smirked and stepped back, taking his blessed heat with him. "Call her."
"Hm?" I glanced at his blade. "What do you mean?"
"It's exceptionally difficult to disarm a Paragon." He nodded at my empty hand. "Call her."
Furrowing my brow, I extended my dominant hand and focused on Cierthine, lying in its scabbard at my bedside.
A shimmer of violet light crackled through the air, charging it with lightning. Cierthine whooshed to life in my grip, like Solathair himself had painted it into existence.
I couldn't help it. A grin spread across my face.
Reese chuckled. He ran a finger along his golden blade. Radiant light shimmered around his fingers as he flicked them toward the sky. Tiny motes of light danced around us, illuminating the river and silver trees.
"Our weapons are charged with elements," he said. "It lessens the load on our bodies when we need to cast. Try it."
I lifted Cierthine, remembering the state I'd found Killian in. He'd overexerted himself—using too much magic overcharged the elements in our blood. They overtook us, coating our insides with ice or lightning.
He'd burned through Cierthine's powerandhis.
Lowering the blade, I laughed nervously. "I, um. I received an education on the principles of magic, but?—"
"I thought so." Reese's face fell. "Do you at least know what your catalyst is?"
" . . . No."
"Ah." He tucked his blade under his arm.
Catalysts were prickly, sore subjects. I was fairly certain Liam had found his during our lessons, but the thief had refused to tell me.
As for myself . . . I'd never discovered it.
Catalysts were our truths, and I spent most of my days wearing a brave face and pretending to be the lady of Tirnanog—a city that no longer existed. What was the thread that linked me to my magic? I suppose it was time to find out.
Magic sounded easier than swordplay. Killian had cut a giant bird in half with it.
