The air inside the wardstone shield heated. A peculiar odor reached his nose. The scent of Elemental Fire was familiar, but there was another magic—like frost on a late fall morning—one he should never have been able to scent. Spirit Elemental magic mixed with Elemental Fire. Sorntar snapped his eyes open. Ashayna sat in the same position as she had been before, only now a pale, white fire outlined her body—not just her hands, her entire body. At their apex, the dancing flames were blood-kissed.
“Sorntar,” she breathed his name out, no panic marred her voice. “I think I’m actually doing it.”
“Yes, Ash,” Sorntar whispered, while trying to maintain his calm. He glanced at the nearest wardstone. Its crystalline surface pulsed with absorbed power, more than it could siphon off into its protective shield. The other pillars encircling them showed the same pulsing power. A stress fracture appeared along the base of one. “That’s good enough for now. Ground your power. We’ll work on it more tomorrow.”
Ashayna cocked her head to one side. “I can’t…it’s not obeying me.” She ripped her blindfold from her eyes. Ashayna didn’t even look at him, instead her eyes locked on the fire burning along her arms, and then to the rest of her body. The magic encircling her flared again. She screamed and bolted upright. Sorntar didn’t have the luxury to wait and see if she would get it under control.
“Everyone, get out now!” Sorntar shouted. He sprang to his feet, letting his momentum carry him forward. Slamming into Ashayna, he overbalanced her and she went stumbling backwards. They sprawled flat on the ground. While Ashayna was still dazed, he mantled his wings and tail around her, and summoned his personal shields to full power. A series of pops from displaced air told him the remaining mentors were getting their charges out of danger.
The world exploded around him. A screaming vortex of power washed around them as the violated wardstones erupted. Crystal shards flew in all directions. Fragments rained down upon his shield. He held his position, listening for the sounds of tinkling crystal shards to stop. Ashayna’s warm breaths puffed against his shoulder, and he tilted his head until he could see her face clearly. It was ashen, but at least power no longer painted her in shades of white and crimson.
“Ah, guess it’s settled then. Mother wanted me to find out what you were capable of. Remember how you could sense the power of the Wild Path? And I said it was odd you could work Fire and sense Spirit. Mother wanted to know if you could do more than sense it,” he commented.
Ashayna pushed at him, trying to get out from under his shrouding wings. He let her shove him away. Drawing one leg under himself, he sat and surveyed the scene. Most of the room was damaged, the worst radiating outwards from their own demolished wardstone circle. An adjacent circle had sustained a lesser amount of damage, but those pillars were heavily stressed. It was good the mentor and youngling working there had escaped in time.
On the tail of that thought, several of his mother’s personal guard arrived, followed closely by his parents. Sorntar struggled to his feet. By his mother’s dark look, he guessed this wasn’t how she wished him to find out about his bondmate’s capabilities. Ashayna stiffened. He stepped forward until he was shoulder to shoulder with her.
***
That Sorntar seemed to think they needed to show a unified front to his mother probably didn’t bode well for her. Ashayna stood at attention, prepared for a spectacular dressing down. To her surprise, Sorntar took a step ahead of her, shielding her from Queen Talnarra’s intense gaze.
“Mother, Ashayna only did what I asked. I pressed her too hard and she lost control.”
“Dramatically, I see,” Talnarra said with a glance around at the mess. Her gaze hardened as she studied Ashayna. “I’ve obviously overestimated my son’s abilities. Neither of you will practice without an elder in the future.”
“Talnarra, don’t be so harsh,” Kysoran said. He tilted his head to one side. His crest fluffed in a motion Ashayna attributed to humor. “You’re secretly pleased, admit it. Our son’s bondmate is extraordinarily powerful, just like you were hoping for.”
Talnarra’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded stiffly. “Yes. However, it doesn’t mean I’m pleased to see she’s destroyed half the practice chamber.” She sighed, then continued. “My mate has a point. I’m expecting too much, too soon, from you both. Go have a healer check on your Larnkins, and then get some rest. Ashayna, you will be tired when the thrill of your pounding blood returns to normal. There is a price for calling on the amount of power you did.”
With that said, Talnarra and Kysoran withdrew, followed by seven grim-faced guards. Ashayna knew it wasn’t over as easily as that. No, she was willing to bet the council would assemble to discuss her little escapade involving fire and spirit magic.
Ashayna winced as a small throb stabbed into her temples. The price Talnarra mentioned? A second throb vibrated through her brain. Exhaustion, swift and overpowering as snow cascading down a mountainside, threatened to engulf her.
She let Sorntar urge her out of the rubble and towards the healer’s. When they were almost to their destination, he drew her aside into an alcove.
“After you have recovered, I want to study in the library.”
By his tone, Ashayna was willing to bet it was more likely to be researching the history of twelve certain talismans than studying for their lessons.
“Yes, that sounds prudent.”
Chapter Thirteen
Navigating the library baffled Ashayna. Even the sprawl of the practice grounds and the many buildings comprising the stable complex was nothing compared to the complexity of the library’s corridors, stairs, and tightly nested rooms. Mentally cursing narrow stairs, which reminded her far too much of her time in the Oracle Tower, she steeled herself against fear and followed close at Sorntar’s heels.
“The part of the library we’re headed to is more spacious than this section, nothing like the Oracle Tower,” he said.
“I didn’t say anything aloud. And I had my shields in place.” Tilting her chin up to meet his gaze, she stood with a hand braced on her hip.
A look of mild embarrassment crossed Sorntar’s features. “Though I’ll admit to trying to peek into your mind on previous occasions, I didn’t this time. Your Larnkin grows stronger, and with it, your ability to project your thoughts.” He shrugged, his wings flaring with the movement. “As our Larnkins recover from the severing of the bond which occurred when they took us as hosts, our magic will grow in strength. Increasingly, we will be able to sense what the other thinks and feels. It has some benefits.” He rushed on, “Only rarely will I intentionally read your private thoughts.”
“How gallant of you.” A smile twisted the corner of her lips up at his hasty and very nervous explanation, spoiling her attempt at anger.
He didn’t say anything in response, just stood there looking blameless and altogether too handsome. As she stomped past him, she glanced up to see if he’d caught her last stray thought.
He flashed a quick shy smile. Was it her imagination, or did his skin darken with a blush?
Instant warmth flooded her, twisting low in her belly. A shiver raced down her body and her breathing hitched. Blood rushed to her cheek at her body’s surprising response to him.
By the gods, it was just a smile. Stop acting like a girl at her first flush of maidenhood. Scolding herself didn’t stop the pounding of her heart.
“Curse it,” she whispered and tromped ahead, uncaring that she lacked the slightest clue where she was headed.
They moved deeper into a new section. This one made the first area seem open and spacious. The small, dark corridor had one point in its favor—this deep, with its gloomy atmosphere, no one was likely to disturb them or ask uncomfortable questions about her magic. Just when she was searching for something to say to break the awkward silence, Sorntar pointed down a newer section of tunnel. They arrived at a large, book-lined room with tables and benches at its center.
“We should start with older scrolls deali
ng with the Oracle Stone,” Sorntar said. “Nothing I know or have discovered fully explains what it is.”
“Maybe we should just go to the other councilors.”
“I’d rather not. What I know of the Oracle leads me to believe its words are always truthful, but not easily understood. There is a saying among my people: ‘Beware the untruths and the half-truths, for many have died in deception’s shadow.’ Of late I have heard what must certainly be half-truths and full evasions by some elders. Then there is the strength of our Larnkins.”
Sorntar drew breath to say something else, but instead his brows furrowed and he pressed his lips tight together. She thought she knew what he’d left unsaid. They weren’t likely to find a solution to their problems in a book.
***
“How can I help?” Ashayna fingered a scroll covered in a flowing script, then hunched over it, her nose a bare hand-span away. She still couldn’t read a word of it. Bracing her hands against the stone table, she looked up at Sorntar. “What language is this anyway?”
“A dialect of ancient lupwyn,” he replied. “I can weave a spell to allow you to know our languages. It’s a simple spell, very harmless.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t do well with magic.”
“Ash, let me try.”
She sighed and glanced around the room. Every book was written in a foreign language. Despite her supposedly vast magic, she couldn’t help Sorntar with this simple task. Anything would be better than this feeling of worthlessness, even magic. “Fine. Try, if you think it will help.”
Sorntar’s eyes widened, his lips parting on a surprised breath. Just as quickly, he hid his astonishment and stepped around the corner of the table, motioning for her to straighten up. She did and found he’d moved forward at the same time. He crowded her back against the table’s edge. The bulk of his wings blocked escape to either side. The table prevented retreat. Their bodies were close enough to touch. Her breath came shallow, her heart started to race. Ashayna turned her head away and tried to shield herself. If he read her mind now, he would know how he affected her. Her heart continued to pound its frantic rhythm.
A warm weight landed on either side of her hips—the steady grip of his hands. He lifted her like she weighed nothing and sat her on the edge of the table. When he stepped between her thighs, she tensed. Too late to stop him, his hands moved to her shoulders. A rising wave of his magic caressed her a moment before its burning essence tickled her nose. Sorntar’s familiar scent blanketed her until a strange mix of panic and desire tightened her stomach.
“Easy, Ash,” he crooned. “I needed to get within the perimeter of your physical shields. They’re stronger than plate armor. I felt you summoning them as soon as you agreed to the spell.”
“I didn’t…I wasn’t aware.” She might not be aware what her magic was doing, but she was very much aware of how close Sorntar stood. The broad expanse of his naked chest nearly begged for her to explore. Her gaze trailed down his chest. Seeing the hard muscles of his thighs trapped between hers made her heart race. His spicy scent surrounded her. Liquid heat swirled through her blood, coming to rest low in her belly as breath sped from her lungs.
Hesitantly, she traced the outline of one of his primaries. The feather was wider than her hand and knife-edge rigid. He sighed, the tension in his wings melting away with the sound. Encouraged by his response, she ran a finger up his feather’s length until the quill’s shaft disappeared under another layer of feathers. These were softer, and vanished in turn under a layer of down. Her fingers curved around his one wing bone, just above where it joined to his back. It was bigger around than her fingers could span.
Sorntar began a deep rumbling, not unlike a cat’s purr. Risking a glance up at his face, she found he had his chin tucked against his chest, his eyes closed, and the feathers of his crest were half raised.
A tugging at the end of her braid made her jump; she relaxed when Sorntar began unwinding the thick coils. His fingers smoothed each strand, removing tangles, the scrape of his fingers along her scalp raising tiny thrills along her flesh. With each sweep of his finger, she leaned closer. When he started massaging her temples, she nearly purred along with him. The last time someone combed her hair had been during childhood. Those memories paled to Sorntar’s touch.
She released his wing to stroke his back. Her fingers molded to taut skin, trailing up to his shoulders. His hands dropped from her hair and took a firm grip on her hips. He pulled her closer. It still wasn’t close enough. She arched her back and crushed her breasts to his chest. Her fingers bit into his shoulders.
Hot and moist, his lips trailed along her jaw, his tongue darting out to lick the sensitive skin of her neck. With a slow, thorough determination, he carefully worked his way up to nuzzle her ear. Teeth nibbled at the lobe with gentle nips before his warm lips moved down her throat.
She gasped at the heat shooting straight to her core. Her blood thundering in her veins, she arched closer, her hands clinging to his shoulders. Sorntar melted against her with a groan, then continued his lazy exploration downward until he came in contact with the delicate silver chain. His cooing changed tones, growing deeper. He tugged at the chain, attempting to free her necklace from the confines of her vest.
In truth, it was his necklace. But he couldn’t have it back. It was the only thing able to calm her Larnkin. Panicked, she jerked away from Sorntar, but was halted by his wings crossing behind her back. His cooing stopped. He opened his eyes a slit. He took her one hand and flattened the fingers against his chest, and then his eyelashes lowered again.
At least he wasn’t going to make an issue out of her borrowed necklace. It must hold some special meaning. If she knew what it was, she was afraid her honor would demand she give it back to Sorntar. That would likely anger her Larnkin.
Unable to help herself, her fingers curled in one final caress. “Ah…this isn’t research, nor is it going to help me read ancient languages.”
“Mutual grooming,” he rumbled without opening his eyes.
“I’d say it’s a little more than that…” She put her hand on his chest and pushed. Reluctantly, he let her go. She put as much distance between them as the room’s narrow confines allowed. “I think we need to focus on the problem at hand.”
“Problem?” he asked sleepily.
“Larnkins, Oracle Tower…Sorntar, you need to focus.”
He shook out his feathers and stretched, his eyes sharpening with intelligence. Looking around, he murmured something about spring and mating instincts. There wasn’t a hint of embarrassment in his eyes. He picked up the nearest scroll and offered it to her. “Can you read it now? I cast the weaving before we… digressed.”
She cleared her throat as she snatched it from his hand. Unrolling it, she looked at the lettering only to have the words shimmer and blur. Dizziness swamped her. The scroll slipped from her numb fingers. She stumbled, slamming a hip against the table. Sorntar pulled her against his chest before she joined the scroll on the floor. With one strong arm behind her shoulders and the other hooked under her knees, he lifted her with ease. She gasped in surprise. When the ceiling stopped spinning, she found herself staring into Sorntar’s intense gaze.
“Are you all right?” Concern formed little creases along the corners of his mouth.
“I’m fine. You can put me down. If anyone asks, that wasn’t a swoon.”
Humor glinted in his eyes. “Of course not.”
“I don’t swoon. Put me down.”
“My weaving didn’t take.” He peered down into her eyes. “Would you like me to try a second time when you’re recovered? Perhaps this one will reinforce the first enough your magic won’t undo my work so quickly.”
“No!” Ashayna pushed at his chest until he had to put her down or drop her. “Thank you for trying, but I think I’ve had a big enough dose of your magic for now.”
“Sorry, my spell casting abilities are normally better than that. I allowed myself to become d
istracted.” He had the grace to look embarrassed and backed off several steps.
“Happens to the best of us.” Ashayna straightened her clothing without meeting his gaze. She just wanted the whole episode behind them. “We have work to do.”
In the end, she helped Sorntar in whatever way she could. At first gathering certain books he described, and then later putting away the ones he set aside in rejection. Time crept by as Sorntar leafed through book after book, unable to find what he sought. With little else to do, she opted to sit and pretend she wasn’t studying him.
The feathers of his crest shifted, and she realized she hadn’t shielded her thoughts well enough.
“If you get bored with the…scenery, you can always write a letter to your family.” He didn’t raise his eyes from the scroll, but she still saw his grin. “There is paper and supplies in the pack by your feet. We might be able to get a santhyrian to deliver it for you.”
Ashayna reached down and rummaged through the pack until she grasped a sheet of paper. She crumpled it up and sent it sailing through the air. It hit Sorntar squarely in the chest. “It’s not nice to make fun,” she stated.
“My apologies, I couldn’t resist.” He tossed the paper back, catching her in the shoulder.
She grunted and pulled out another sheet of paper. When Sorntar held his hands up in surrender, she only reached down and grabbed quill and ink. He chuckled, returning to his research.
Ashayna stared at the cream-colored paper for some moments, trying to put words to her experiences among the Elementals. Dipping quill into ink, she started to write. Words poured fourth onto the page faster than she thought possible. By the end, one letter had become two.
The first one she addressed to her entire family, the second to Sorsha and Lamarra alone. In it she wrote everything she couldn’t put in the first.
Ashayna poured a bit of wax from a candle and sealed the second letter. When she was finished, she stood and looked in Sorntar’s direction. He was slumped over a stack of books, sleeping. One hand laid on a partially unrolled scroll. The other rested on his thigh, close to the hilt of one sword. “Ready to protect me even in your sleep,” she whispered. Something in her chest tightened. “Ah, you could steal a woman’s heart without even trying.”
In Deception's Shadow Box Set: Book 1-3 Page 15
