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“Speaking of, when you’re in battle, do you just spellcast more stars?”
“If we have a big enough stock, yes. We manufacture them in the garrisons, where the magic is woven into them in advance by a group of elite weapons masters. And if freaking Jeremy doesn’t bind our powers.”
“Do you know how to get by that? Because what good is my fire if he can bind our powers?”
“I’m not sure he can bind your powers.”
“He already did.”
“When you didn’t know you had them and couldn’t use them.”
“I’m feeling the passing of time today.”
“I know, but it’s not the same here. That’s hard to understand when you haven’t experienced it firsthand. We stay the course. We train. We make sure you’re ready when we step foot outside Elysium. You’re not ready.” I’m not. He’s right, but what if I’m never ready? Eventually, my destiny will force us to leave Elysium, whether I’m ready or not, one way or the other. And I doubt destiny will be gentle about it.
The minute I enter the octagon where Silas waits for me, he curls his fingers at me in “bring it” fashion. I laugh and rift to stand in front of him, feeling myself again and ready for battle. “You’re not afraid of Micah?”
“Scared shitless,” he says, “but he told me he was wrong about going easy on you. He told me to let loose.”
“The day I beat your ass is going to be embarrassing for you, isn’t it?”
“Embarrassing and scary as fuck,” he says, “but necessary, so let’s go.”
And so, it begins.
Hours later, I manage to rift to my bedroom. I’m standing with my back to the door when a knock sounds only moments later. “Ember.”
I don’t know how Micah knows I’m there, but I whisper. “Yes?”
“Can I come in?”
“Only if you rift. I like the door too much right now.”
He appears in front of me, and I start to slide down the door, only to have him catch me and carry me to the bed. He feeds me the serum, and I curl up on the bed. “I know I need to shower—I’m disgusting—but can you magic me?”
A moment later, I’m in a robe, smelling like flowers, and I pull my knees to my chest. Micah pulls a blanket over me. “Who won the battle?”
“Neither of us. That’s the problem. Unless I boil him, I can’t beat him.”
“Don’t boil Silas. I’ll give you some tips in the morning.”
“I’d like that.”
He settles behind me and wraps his arm around me, and it’s everything and more. “I don’t think this is a good way to remain objective,” I murmur.
“It’s not,” he says. “Now get some rest.”
My lashes lower, and the warmth of his body seeps into mine, a lullaby that sings me into a deep sleep.
The next morning, Micah has coffee and food waiting on me, and the tension of the day before has faded. After eating, we head to the octagon, skipping my fire lesson today in lieu of combat, but Gabriella joins us anyway. The two of them teach me techniques to use against an agile enemy. We break for lunch, and Micah and I head to the library. When it’s time to meet Silas, Micah and Gabriella aren’t the only ones along for the show. Zeke is back, and he’s ready for battle. When the evening ends, I’m an exhilarated mess. I’ve learned. I’ve improved. And I’m a little less miserable than the past two nights.
Micah rifts us back to my bedroom, and once again, I fall asleep in his arms.
For the next two weeks, I practice my fire skills each morning, which amounts to boiling water and nothing more, and combat training in the evening with both Silas and Zeke, as Braylon remains at the garrison. Zeke is happy to step up as the patient teacher, his every move calculated while Silas is a wild beast who comes at me like he’s crazed every single time.
Little by little, I learn to use my magic. I learn my special abilities—strength, speed, and magic. I can feel myself progress and transform into a new version of the old me.
I’m still bruised and beaten up on a daily basis, but I’m starting to become a force. And that’s when Micah takes me back to the forest, where I am certain I will excel.
