by Mary Weber
I think better of it, however, when I notice the silver-toothed official with the black cloak standing on the porch of the common house. His hood is pulled back, probably from the scuffle, and his thin, handsome face is looking at me. All around, the people who’d just been fighting are now prancing in mud puddles or nursing broken bones. But he just stares. Curling his lips into a snarl.
As if he knows what I just did.
I shake off the feeling and follow Colin around the corner beneath an archway. And almost trip over Breck hiding in the shadows. She’s got a bit of shirt in her fist from whomever she bested, and in my euphoria, I start to hug her and laugh. And then I can’t stop even when I’m out of breath, and neither can Breck or Colin until we finally reach the horses.
The ride home is a flurry, partially due to the fact that we’re galloping the entire way with the storm pressing behind us. And partially because while I may have caused the storm, I also controlled it.
My heart lunges within my chest, like a bluebird trapped behind a bone cage that’s just discovered the hope of actual freedom.
And like those few times I’ve experienced it around Eogan . . . I want more.
Is this what I can do to turn the tide of the war?
Can I end the fighting? Even better—turn it into laughter? Perhaps both sides need to be reminded that they’re at the same mercy as the rest of the world. At the mercy of elements that Colin and I control.
As we near Adora’s estate, the rain slacks off, and I swear I can still hear Eogan’s calming tone in my head, telling me to focus. Everything within me is bursting to tell him how incredible I did, but the knowledge that he’d feed my body to Adora’s lethal fish will keep my lips sealed like a tomb.
At the house I climb down from my mare and hold the reins while waiting for Colin to help Breck. But for whatever reason Colin’s suddenly next to me, and his hands reach for my waist.
Breck’s still laughing at a level sure to wake the ghouls. “Did you ’ear that one man squeal? That official sounded so angry!”
But Colin’s not listening to her. My breathing stalls. His head moves in. What’s he doing?
“I think I should get Breck inside,” I say, but the words are absorbed in Colin’s cloak as he wraps his arms around my neck.
He chuckles. “You were amazing.”
I try to jerk back, but his hands are strong as he leans in to kiss me. My insides reel and collide with my backbone, and I do what I’ve always done with men who get too near.
I clout him across the jaw. Hard.
Then turn and run.
CHAPTER 14
WHAT THE BOLCRANE WERE YOU THINKING?” Eogan roars. His hair is standing straight up where his hand plowed through it, making him look like a rooster.
I smother a laugh as he stops in front of Colin and glares. “Are you insane, mate?” He points at Colin’s chest. “You I guess I should expect it from. But her? She’s not even close to ready. She could’ve killed someone!”
I can’t tell if Colin’s silence is due to wisdom or the fact that his bottom lip is the size of a plum. My face goes warm at the memory of what, admittedly, might have been a slight overreaction on my part last night, and the kissing event that initiated it.
“And here you . . . you . . .” Eogan looks close to a conniption attack. “You take her out and expose her like that? And then you display your Terrene abilities? In the High Court? It doesn’t just matter that people saw you, Colin, but do you know how it would’ve ended if she had a flare-up? You would’ve been dead. Everyone would’ve been dead. Which is why you are never allowed to leave the estate without asking me.”
He turns and stomps off across the grassy area. Colin smirks at me with his giant, fat lip while keeping his eyes on Eogan.
“And don’t you dare smile about it,” Eogan hollers.
Colin gives a loud, innocent cough that fools no one and whispers, “Did you tell ’im?”
“Nope.”
“Obviously he doesn’t know ’bout yer flare-up.”
“And I plan to keep it that way,” I say as Eogan flips around and comes striding back to stand in front of me. My turn. He glares at me up and down. “What about you? Did anyone recognize you?”
“I already said no one—”
“I’m not asking you, Colin.”
I shake my head. “No one knew who we were, and no one followed us home.”
Eogan tightens his jaw and runs a hand across the back of his neck. “Probably too scared of genius boy over here,” he finally mutters. “Did anyone notice you? Was there any out-of-the-ordinary attention?”
An image of the shiny-toothed man in the black cloak sweeps through my thoughts. The expression on his face just before Colin pulled me from the scene.
“No,” I say.
I flinch because my hesitation was too long. Eogan’s eyes become slits, accusing me of lying, but he doesn’t press it. Just asks irritably, “And are you hurt?”
“Fine.”
“Are you certain?” His eyes won’t release mine. Still with the grumpy, searching attitude.
“She was fine,” Colin interjects. “I made sure. I swear I wouldn’t ’ave let anything get outta hand. I knew she could ’andle it. And if she couldn’t, then I would’ve put a full stop to it and gotten her outta there sooner.”
Eogan’s gaze blackens to the onyx color of his skin, and it’s more frightening than any of his yelling. He turns to Colin. “Okay, you do not decide what she can or can’t handle. Because what if she had gone off, mate? What if she couldn’t control it? Not only did you risk the very lives of the Faelen people whom you’re so anxious to save, you risked hers as—”
“She can’t be killed by her own power.”
“Maybe not! But do you think she could live with herself if she’d taken out that whole common house? Could you live with yourself? It would destroy her.”
Colin’s wriggling under Eogan’s anger like I’ve never seen him. He glances at me and attempts a smile. Bumps my arm. “But she’s fine. She was good. Right, Nym?”
I nod halfheartedly. I’m still stuck on the whole “I can’t be killed by my own power” comment.
“This time maybe! But—”
“Wait. Why can’t I?” I interrupt.
Eogan’s forehead creases. “What?”
I look back and forth between them. “Why can’t I kill myself with my power?”
“Because you’d pass out,” Eogan says distractedly.
“I don’t understand.”
He sighs and shoves his hand through his hair again. “Look—have you ever fainted in the middle of an episode?”
I nod.
“So that’s your internal mechanism. All Uathúils have one. But”—he leans over and directs an eyeful of daggers at me—“that’s not really the point, is it?”
He straightens and looks at both of us. And waits for an answer.
“Right.” I nod very seriously. “That’s not the point.”
I’m tempted to add that no matter what the point is, he looks like an old man when he gets mad and lectures. Like he should be some very important general telling some very important army what to do instead of two people who are supposed to save the entire blasted free world.
“Good. Because from now on, you’re training three extra hours a day.”
“What?” Colin and I erupt at the same time.
“You’ll go in late for dinner, and you’ll come back out when you’re done. You’ll work twice as hard. Because if you have the extra energy to get into trouble, then obviously you’ve got more energy to give me.” Eogan crosses his arms. “And when we’re done each day? I’ll know exactly where you are and who you’re with. Am I making myself clear?”
“What about Adora’s parties?” Colin asks.
“Oh, you’ll attend those. And you’ll stay the entire way through.”
“Are you jesting?” I blurt out. “Have you been to those parties? They’re horrid! One week of haunting
them every other night, and I’m ready to burn my eyes out.”
“Pardon me, but those are the people you’re trying to save! And most of them are involved in every detail of every plan of this war. So if either of you had half a brain in your skulls, you’d be haunting every member and using your ears to listen! Why else do you think I require you to be there? For entertainment?”
“I thought it was Adora’s idea . . .” Colin’s mouth closes as we both stare at Eogan.
It’s his fault we attend those things. I shake my head.
“I requested Adora to require it. Because if you two actually paid attention instead of moping around like bolcrane babies, you’d pick up more information in one night than the highest generals of Faelen are privy to.”
My whole body goes still. Like that traitor in the back hall on the first night.
“Honestly,” Eogan mutters, “I doubt it matters which side wins the war, seeing as it’s all hulls in the end anyway. But if you want to help Faelen, you’ll need more than just your Uathúil abilities. You’ll need to know who holds what positions on the council, how decisions are made, and whom you can trust. And more important, whom you cannot trust. Right now you have access without anyone noticing you, so for kracken’s sake take advantage of it.” Our trainer pauses and looks up at the sun, which is halfway to noon already. “Now, can we get on with today’s knife-throwing lesson?”
I lift my brow. “Knife throwing?”
“As I said, you need skills, not just abilities. But first, why don’t you both give me three laps?”
Colin raises his hand to salute Eogan, but before he struts off, our trainer stops him with a hand to the chest. “By the way, need I even ask where you got the fat lip?”
Colin’s freckled skin floods pink from the top of his shaved head all the way to his bare stomach. He keeps his gaze clear of me while mumbling something about earning it in last night’s fight, then takes off to the meadow outskirts. I start to follow just as Eogan turns and catches my sheepish expression. I scramble to wipe it clean, but not soon enough.
That unfair, annoying smile of his glimmers to the surface.
My own skin flushes, and cursing it, I clamp my mouth shut and take off after Colin before the butterflies in my stomach start getting edgy.
The routine Eogan inflicts on us for the rest of the afternoon is a cycle of twenty-minute workouts encompassing physical strength training, bow shooting, ability control—which his calming knack is proving helpful for—and knife throwing. To his credit, it appears he fashioned our blades himself. Never mind that mine are smaller than Colin’s and we have to give them back when we finish. But by the time the dinner bell rings, my good hand is aching and my muscles and emotions are screaming from the strain of controlling my attitude and its effect on the weather. Especially since, upon returning home early, Adora gave explicit instructions that her last-minute party needed clear skies tonight. And nothing on Eogan’s face hints he’s about to release us.
“He’s hopin’ to starve me to death, I swear,” Colin grumbles, sending an enormous dirt clod hurling toward a rock.
“What was that, Colin? You regret last night’s decision to leave the estate?” Eogan yells across the field.
I take the rock out with a single lightning bolt before losing control and dumping a flood of water on the three of us.
“Oops,” I say in response to their glares.
Eogan sighs and asks me to clear the skies.
I’m almost finished after a half hour of him telling me to steady my breathing and center the storm inside of me in order to calm the one above. I want to tell him that it’s harder than it looks when you’ve got an infuriating man touching your skin who ignites your senses in their own little messed-up storm.
The clouds have finally thinned enough when Eogan’s hand drops from my neck, and I feel him take a giant step back. Turning to see what I’ve done wrong now, I spot Adora across the meadow, watching the two of us. Her mouth is pressed into a tight, not-happy line. Ah litches.
She beckons Eogan with those long, beautiful arms that are stark white against a gown of purple gossamer and feathers. Lots of feathers. Layered in exquisite twirls and spirals with five giant plumes coming up off the back. They rise and frame her head and purple hair like a male peacock in hunting season.
Colin lets loose a low whistle. “You gotta admit she’s a sight for us men to admire.” He strolls up beside me.
I frown and consider telling him to keep his drool to himself, but instead I curl my deformed hand into a fist and cause the sky above us to growl.
He snickers. “Ooh, jealous. I like it.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Too bad ’er personality is as shallow as ’er looks.” He turns to me with that sudden sincerity. “Unlike you, Nym. You got the good heart and nice looks.”
I bite down my bitter laugh that says I don’t know how to reply and instead watch Eogan and the frog-queen-turned-male-peacock exchange words back and forth. She’s grinning and twittering her hands to and from her mouth, as if she’s blowing him kisses while at the same time deadly serious about whatever she’s saying. Her eyes flash to me once, but after a quick sweep over my appearance, they’re back to her heart’s one pant-worthy desire.
When Eogan strides back to us, the peacock-frog-queen stands a moment longer, watching him with raw, unabashed hunger before turning a smug gaze onto Colin and me. She flips her fluffy gown and struts off to the house. Her tail feathers waggle behind her.
Eogan crosses his arms over his chest, his expression pinched. “You two are to go inside now and change for the party. Clothes will be set out for you. Breck will see to your hair, Nym.”
My hand flies up to my messy braid. I try not to blush.
If Eogan notices, he doesn’t care. Just says in a distasteful tone, “Apparently His Majesty will be in attendance tonight, and Adora plans to present you both to him as members of her extended family. With absolutely no mention of your Uathúil abilities.”
Colin breaks into a grin, and from the corner of my eye I see his stomach muscles flex. “So the ol’ girl wants to show us off.”
“Yes.” Eogan chews on the word like he’s considering the ramifications. “You’ve seen how these parties go. Adora expects you to be near her when the king enters, and you will wait for an introduction. You’re going to need to smile and bow until he nods. After that, go ahead and go straight to the banquet room where you’ll eat together seated out of the way. If anyone talks to you, simply ask questions to get them chatting about themselves. That’s all they’ll want anyway, and it’ll keep you from getting into trouble. Hopefully.” He eyes Colin with a begrudging smirk. “Any showing off as a Terrene, and I will personally put your head on a pike and haul the rest of you to Litchfell Forest. Understood?”
“Will Princess Rasha be there?” I ask cautiously.
“No, just—” He stops and frowns. “Why would that matter?”
I shrug. “Breck said she can see a person’s soul. I figure if you want us to keep a low profile, being around her might not be the wisest idea.”
His expression says Nice try. “She’s touring Faelen at the moment. But even if she were here, she’d know what you are and wouldn’t care. And as far as your soul—her abilities don’t work quite like that. Now are you both clear on what you’re to do? Good. Then go on and get out of here. And for crane’s sake don’t make me regret this.”
An audience with the king? I head off to the house with Colin following. What if I have to talk? Worse—what if I have to dance with anyone? Oh hulls, I’ve never even seen the king, and I’m supposed to act proper around him? I consider tossing myself in Adora’s piranha pond as we pass by.
CHAPTER 15
BRECK’S CLEARLY NERVOUS FOR ME ABOUT THE party, too, because she does my curls in four different styles before settling on a thick pile of ringlets swished high on my head. How she can tell the difference is beyond me, but when she’s finished,
it’s stately enough. Even if it’s so heavy it makes my neck ache. I shift beneath my own scrutiny in the mirror as the fake me with brown hair pretends to curtsy and do the tinkly laugh all the ladies do.
The laugh turns caustic.
It’s not me. It never will be. All the fancy. All the overindulgence of these parties in the face of Faelen’s people going hungry. All the war plans being talked over while real soldiers are out there getting slaughtered.
“I can’t do this. They’re going to know I’m a fraud.”
“Everyone’s a fraud, you idiot. You’ll be same as the rest of ’em. You just put one foot in front of the other and ’opefully not in yer mouth. Now ’urry up cuz I’m missin’ my dinner.”
But when Breck pulls out the dress I’m to wear, I know I won’t be the same as the rest of them. Not even close. It’s soft and filmy with odd-angled layers sweeping one beneath the other like the morning ocean tides. And blue. Like my eyes. What was Adora thinking putting me in this? Breck helps slide it on and pins it so tight I can hardly breathe. It pushes my chest up so it’s near hanging out and barely cuts in high enough along the collar to hide the tattoos swirling round my shoulders. “I’m going to suffocate,” I gasp.
Breck just yanks the buttons tighter and tells me to “stop talkin’.” She fastens up the sleeves like she’s tying me into a cloth coffin. But surprisingly, when she’s done, the soft material melds into my skin and I don’t rip the thing when I bend down to slip on its matching blue slippers. I turn to the mirror and the full skirt swishes around me, light and foamy, like the sound of the ocean. My breath catches because I look almost beautiful, but it’s followed by a groan of guilt because I shouldn’t look anything other than a slave.
Then I see my eyes. Standing out like sea sirens—clear, salty, ice blue. I don’t even look good enough to be a slave. I look like a curse.
“You ’ave fun tonight and tell my brother to keep his ’ands off you.”