Page 34

I should find a nice, normal topic to discuss, but my mind helpfully blanks the way it usually does with small talk. “Good.”

I walk away before the awkwardness can get any worse. I’ve always been terrible at connecting to people. Calla’s always excelled at that, but I preferred the simplicity of animals and the natural world.

Veradin says it’s just because I spend more time with animals than people. Calla says it’s because I’m slow. Father…

I hate ruminating over Father’s negative comments about my failures, personality or otherwise. It’s one of the main reasons he sent me to train with Veradin. Give me a dying animal, and I know what to do. Put me in front of a tired grandmother, and I freeze.

I retreat to the far side of the clearing, where I sit with my back against a tree and try not to feel like I’ve failed some fundamental test of humanity. The few sentence conversation weighs on me like a boulder.

Agnar appears in my peripheral vision, a child dangling from each raised arm and the toddler on his shoulders holding locks of his hair like reins. “Rock monster needs food.”

He trudges forward, swinging each leg cumbersomely, the kids giggling and hanging like ornaments.

“Need food. Rawr!” After a few more strides, he stops, then tilts his head. “Found food? Nom nom nom.” Agnar chews on the toddler’s foot.

The kids scream in delight as the toddler giggles and pounds his tiny fists on Agnar’s head.

They all laugh as if the kingdom isn’t rotting. The boy explains that the toddler isn’t real food, and the girl grins.

Watching Agnar interact with the refugees shouldn’t bother me, though I can’t decide if I’m jealous of the ease with which he handles the children or envious of how they capture all his attention. I’ve never been good with people. Now, I’m stuck traveling with six of them plus a toddler and apparently need to find another way out of this mess.

I reach out mentally, hunting for any magical animals that might offer me assistance. Nothing. So many animals have fled from the Withering, I’m not surprised it affected the magical ones too. They need to eat as well.

“Stop.” Without warning, Agnar spins me around, the children gone. His hand finds and grips my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” I gesture vaguely at the view I’d been staring at before I shut my eyes.

“Don’t.” Agnar’s grip on my chin tightens, and he pulls my face nearer to his. “I felt that. Whatever you just tried to do, scouring the land like that. Don’t.”

My heart slams against my ribs. He felt it? I thought his magic was all brute force and violence, unless he’s more sensitive to the land than I realized.

We’re too close. Agnar’s breath caresses my lips, and he stares straight through me as if unraveling all my secrets. He smells sweet, like the berry-studded bread he carries.

I should be terrified.

It’s not fear warming my insides or flushing my cheeks. The sudden realization that we’re near enough to kiss reminds me of how good that felt. My toes curl at the memory of his tongue sliding over mine.

His eyes bore into mine, searching for the truth. “Try it again, and we’re going to have a problem.” He releases me and puts space between us that somehow feels more intimate than the contact.

None of the refugees look at us except the children. All three of them glare at me like I’m a naughty child for interfering in their play time. None of them seem bothered by his sudden switch from jovial to punishing.

My pulse hammers as Agnar walks away with ease, as if the moment we shared wasn’t charged enough to ignite fires.

How can I escape if Agnar is aware of my every move?

The Lulling.

The skill requires emotional emptiness and absolute calm. Once I have that fully built in my mind, I can impress it on other living creatures. If I manage the feat, I’ll be able to soothe Agnar so he doesn’t notice my magic seeking nearby animals.

I’m the opposite of calm right now, though, roiling with frustration and fury and desire. But maybe I can substitute desperation for skill. Maybe need can override training.

Or maybe I’m a fool.

I wait until Agnar strides over to the opposite side of camp to help Leif gather firewood before closing my eyes and striving to empty my mind.

Become nothing. Become still. Become blank.

I dig for that serene place that should live at my core.