I take the book and return to my bed. It’s a simple incantation, but I read it over three times before setting the book down. The last thing I need is to accidentally curse myself. I heard a story about a girl who did that once. She slept for one hundred years. When she woke up, she was so embarrassed that she told everyone an evil fairy cursed her when she was born.
I lay flat on my back, lift my hands, and perform the spell. A harsh wave of exhaustion sweeps over me. Within seconds, I can’t keep my eyes open.
I’m aware of a breeze on my face. It’s pleasant at first, but it quickly grows harsh. Wind whips my hair around and stings my skin. I force my eyes to open. I’m not standing or sitting but floating. Suspended in the air surrounded my huge golden clouds. They aren’t beautiful. They look sick and wrong.
Something takes shape within the clouds. Strands of my own hair slash my skin. The wind burns my eyes. It’s only when the clouds have fully finished shifting that I realize what I’m looking at.
Two massive wings, like the wings of an angel. The feathers don’t look right. As the wings beat violently against the wind, I see a reflection in the feathers. They’re made of metal. Both wings are made entirely of polished blades.
Each time a gust of wind from the wings slams into me. I should be knocked back. But I’m not. It feels like I’m pressed up against something even though there’s nothing behind me. Over and over, I’m slammed into the invisible barrier. The wings flap relentlessly.
A blade shakes loose and flies right at me. It sails by me, missing me by an inch. Something digs into my shoulder blades and spine as if the invisible wall behind me isn’t smooth and flat. It feels like the teeth of a large beast pressing against me.
“Stop,” I whimper, but my voice is lost in the violent wind. I can barely see. Hair and tears blind me.
“Stop!” I scream. I keep screaming until my throat feels raw, and my voice cracks. The wings don’t let up.
Something else takes place within the clouds, which have taken on a sickly green color. The new shape is easy to identify. It’s a mouth.
A too-wide grin appears between the wings. Sharp teeth overlap each other and gleam like wing feathers. I wait for a face to emerge, but it doesn’t come.
The clouds turn smoky grey. The wings that once were gold now look like black steel. The invisible wall behind me forces me forward. The flapping wings ensure that I’m kept pinned in place.
“What are you?” I screech. “What do you want with me?”
Of course, the mouth doesn’t answer. It simply grins.
A black forked tongue, thin and writhing, moves over the teeth before disappearing into the maw once more.
I’m going to be sick.
Something jabs me hard in my lower back. I want to lurch forward, to get away from it but I can’t. I try to roll to one side. As soon as I make any progress, a dark steel blade flies at me. This time, the blade strikes my skin. Burning pain explodes up my arm. I feel the sensation of my skin disintegrating, but I can’t turn my head to look.
Within seconds, the pain engulfs my whole body. The slightest movement is torment.
I’m close to the teeth now. There’s no escape. It opens its mouth. Inside, there’s only darkness.
Cold fear grips my heart. I fight against the wind and the invisible wall behind me.
It’s going to devour me.
I wake with a jolt and let out a strangled cry. My throat feels like it’s lined with razor blades. My whole body is drenched in sweat.
My lungs burn as I take in greedy gulps of air.
It was just a dream. Just a dream.
Probably a side effect of the spell. I should’ve been more careful.
My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. There’s no moon tonight. Only the light of the stars come in through my windowpane.
A shadow moves above me. I flinch away and clumsily work a spell to illuminate the nearest candle.
Ivora stands over my bed, watching me.
18
Leo
We’ve only been sparring for a few minutes, and already, I can tell something is wrong.
The torches of the underground make a warm glow through the center of the room, leaving the corners in darkness. We choose different rooms down here frequently, just in case someone is watching us. One on one training sessions would look bad enough, even if I could explain them.
There is so much about this I cannot explain. We have to be so careful.
The flickering light shifts over Ebony’s face. She looks drawn and tired. That in and of itself should not slow her down. She knows how to rely on stores of strength when she’s depleted. The way her magic works, if she is feeling low, it should rise to protect her.
Tonight, we are training with hardwood staffs. She twirls against one of my moves, rolling her shoulders impressively fast to come up and block. The move is effective, but not nearly strong enough. I can see her weight is not balanced properly. I thrust against her staff with my own, and she staggers back, almost losing the weapon as she tries to right herself.
My eyes narrow as I wait for her to regain her feet. She rocks back on to her left foot, ready to defend or attack. I can see by her body language; her weight is not right.
You can know all the moves, but without full commitment between mind and body, you can’t be effective. You are the weapon, anything you hold merely an extension of your own deadly purpose.
I come in low with a feint at her legs. She points her staff down to block, and I come up, lightning-fast, flicking the staff back and forth to land blows on her upper arms. I pull my hits but only a little—no one would learn a thing in combat training if they walked away without bruises.
When I pull back from my attack, bouncing on to my heel with perfect balance, she points her staff at the ground and leans on it like an old woman. Her hair is starting to come free from its loose ponytail, swirling around her face like it’s trying to choke her. She wipes at her damp cheeks, breathing hard.
I come in with my staff high, driving it at her face. She cries out, staggering back as she lifts her lance. I freeze in place, holding it high above her and in a hard, straight line pointed right at her.
“Do you see the trouble here, Ebony?” Even after training so hard, my voice is even, my breath steady.
She looks up at the point of my staff, pointed right at her face.
“Even with my defensive maneuver, if you didn’t pull that last move, I’d be on the floor right now with a broken nose.” She admits.
I lower my staff.
“Yes. Exactly. Would you mind telling me what’s going on?”
She shakes her head. That makes me mad.
“If I’m going to train you effectively, I need to know everything that’s going on with you. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Really, Leo, I’m just tired.”
My eyes narrow again. Tired for what reason? Seth? Lucien?
“Being tired doesn’t stop a warrior from defending herself or slaying her enemies. It’s even more important to practice when you are tired, to lock in the muscle memory. You know this,” I say.
She nods, eyeing my staff,
“It’s like you’ve lost your fire, Ebony. This is more than just tired. Tell me.”
She shakes her head again, but her eyes are glossy. I can’t help myself any longer—I have to touch her.
I step forward, dropping my lance. Her’s clatters to the floor as well. I take a careful step forward, offering my palm, so she knows I’m not attacking. I take her hand, running my other hand up her arm to grip her gently and pull her close to me.
“Ebony…” She looks into my eyes, and her face is tight, eyes fearful. I’m touched and concerned. Something is really bothering her.
“Please tell me.”
She looks over her shoulder as if she’s afraid someone could hear. She glances around furtively before looking back up into my face.
“I had a nightmare.”
“What
kind of nightmare?” My voice snaps like a whip, and my fingers tighten on her arm. I don’t mean to be so forceful, but dreams are a place of magic. Anyone can connect to anyone else there—despite what mortals think, dreamscape is shared by every living thing. It connects directly to the world of spirits and gods.
She looks frightened, not just by her dream, but by me. By everything, even the shadows in the room.
“I don’t know. All I know is, I was afraid. There were wings. Great and terrible wings. Instead of feathers, they were sharp, like tiny razors. They cut me. They set up a great wind, and that cut me too. Like being in a whirlwind of blades.”
“Anything else?”
“A jagged grin. Broken teeth. Looming out of the dark. It sounded like it knew me. I just—since then I feel like there isn’t any point. To anything.”
I hold her arm loosely, thinking. For a moment I even forget how physically close to me she is, I’m that distracted.
I don’t understand the symbology of her dream. One thing I do know is that wings of blades belong to warriors. Higher ranking members of any spiritual class, whether they serve the dark or the light, attain wings of steel razors once they achieve a divine mission.
They are the most dangerous of all warriors. Something even demons fear.
I stand quietly, biting my lip, fingers lightly on her arm. She steps closer, waking me from my reverie.
“Leo? What’s wrong? Do you know what it means?”
I shake my head. It’s not a lie. I don’t know what it means. Seeing a spiritual warrior of that ilk can be a very good or very bad omen. The fact that it attacked her doesn’t bode well.
There is no point in terrifying her any more than she already is. She needs to be comforted now, reassured. She is powerful, and she can handle anything. It must be one powerful dream to make her question herself this way.
I pull her close to me with both arms, holding her tight against my chest. She snuggles in, cheek pressed against me. The moment is sweet and loving, my body tingles with the contented energy she gives out at my touch.
As I hold her against my body, I feel myself stirring. Heat rises in my blood, and suddenly, I need my hands all over her. I should have seen this coming. It seems when it comes to Ebony, my good intentions truly do lead to hell.
I’m determined not to give in. She needs attention and care. I won’t keep her trust by ravishing her every time she needs comfort.
Then she looks up at me, and her hands creep around my waist. The sight of her open, trusting face, eyes full of love and wanting, is too much for me.
I lean down and crush those berry red lips with my own. Her fingers grip into my back as she turns her face up to mine. She writhes against me, trying to reach up higher to better reach my mouth. My arms go roughly around her waist, and I draw her up, lifting her off the floor. She keeps kissing me, desperately, hungrily.
The world disappears. I don’t give a damn about anything—the whole dimension has disappeared. There is only Ebony.
Sweet lips against mine. Not just pliant and willing but urging me on, begging for more. I let out a groan, long and drawn out like a man fighting the tide. I can’t do this; I can’t hold myself back from her. It was bad enough when she was chaste, pure, and untouched.
Now she pulls at me as greedily as I devour her. I let her slip down a bit before locking my hands around her ass and pulling her up to me again. Her hands link behind my neck, her legs come up and grip my waist.
It’s too much. She’s pressed up against me, she’s writhing against me. All I have to do is push us against the wall and—
She stiffens in my arms, breaking the kiss. She cocks her head to the side.
“You hear that?” She whispers. I shake my head, but a few seconds later, I do hear it.
Footsteps. Loud and unmistakable. Ringing on the great flagstone steps, announcing the presence of someone as clearly as an alarm.
I drop her quickly, and she lands on her feet. We both rush in separate directions, into the shadows of the room. Ebony hides behind a weapons chest, I pull myself behind a long rack of swords.
“Hey, Leo, you down here?” A jovial voice asks. Shit! I forgot a scheduled a meeting with the head of potions this evening. I certainly didn’t think he’d come looking for me down here.
He shrugs, wanders away, whistling as he goes.
Ebony and I look at each other from across the room, not brave enough yet to leave our shadows.
That was too close.
19
Seth
I’ve found a quiet spot to practice out on the grounds. The gardens are vast, and one can easily find a clearing tucked away in a private place.
It’s specifically designed for magic workers who need connection with nature as well as peace and quiet. Secluded from other people. Having someone call out at the wrong time, or even walk by, can put any magic spell awry.
I try to create a simple guiding light. It’s one of the easiest spells, something a small child can do. It involves taking a small portion of energy and shaping it into an orb, then asking it to glow just above you to light your steps.
I keep holding out my palm and asking the light to grow and solidify. Threads of white come wafting up from my palm like smoke, but they don’t coalesce into a ball. They just spread upwards and fall down again.
I can hear Gabriel’s taunts in my mind. He’s such a prick. Of course, magic still comes easy to him, he hasn’t had to learn it in a brand-new body. The longer you stay in one shape, the more power your magic has. Simply due to familiarity and continuity of presence.
In frustration, I tug my fist back and put all my energy into a fireball. I don't care if it scorches a path through the grounds that everyone can see. I hope it finds Gabriel and burns his ass.
My palm spits out a few pathetic sparks. I groan in frustration, looking at my hands hopelessly.
I can still hear Gabriel laughing in my mind. He’d love to see this. It would give him amusement for days, maybe even months.
I hear footsteps crunching through the grass, and I feel a shock go through my spine. It’s Gabriel. He’s come to taunt me in person. Somehow, he knew I was out here and came to find me. He doesn’t miss a moment, does he?
Instead of hiding, I step forward, folding my arms. Let him come. Facing off with him should bleed away a bit of my tension.
My heart thuds hard in my chest when I see its Ebony. She looks tired, and her hair is disheveled. I can’t shake my feelings of frustration and even though I don’t want to take them out on her, all the things I need to say come crowding into my mind.
“Oh. Hello Seth.” She sounds disinterested. It pisses me off.
“I’m surprised you had time to stop and say hello, Ebony. It’s not like you have time for me these days. Studying hard? Getting distracted by pretty things?”
She scowls at me.
“I’m not in the mood for—”
“No, you never are. It’s always one excuse after another with you. I know, you can’t have that much important crap to do that it would stop you from talking to me. If you cared, you would make the time.”
She crosses her arms, looking defiant but somehow vulnerable as well. I think she may have a chink in her armor right now, and it makes me feel bad.
Not so bad that I’ll stop, though. I’m too pissed off. Not just with her, but my whole situation.
“Can’t you understand what I’m going through?” Her voice is high, with a petulant edge. “I have a lot going on right now, I don’t need—”
“Ebony.” I use a false, condescending tone. “You always use the same excuse with me. I used to help you through tough times, remember? You would come to me for help, not pull away from me.” I step closer, taking in her closed body language and tired face. She looks like she’s been working hard, her hair is frizzy next to her temples where sweat is drying.
What has she been doing? Who is she doing it with? Jealousy roars within me. I once had her favor and attent
ion—all of it. I didn’t have to compete with the others. I could always be assured of her attention. Now that I don’t get any at all, it scares me.
“It’s not an excuse, Seth. All I’m asking is that you try to understand. If you really cared, then you would get that I’ve had a lot of reasons to lose faith lately, especially in the people closest to me. If you understood and genuinely cared about what I wanted, you’d be able to back off and give me the space I need.”
I cross my arms tightly across my chest. Her words make sense, but they have little impact. I care about what she’s going through. It just doesn’t lessen my feelings of loss and betrayal. Maybe if the others didn’t walk around so cocky, as if they are getting into something and I’m not, I could cope better.
“I would hardly say I have the ‘usual’ excuse.” She looks indignant. “You make it sound like I have a pre-prepared set of denials I use, rotating them through each person so I can blow them off.”
I raise my eyebrows. The possibility had not occurred to me. I can tell by her face, she’s sorry she said it. I know how it was meant, but now I’m even more paranoid than before.
I take a step forward.
“Ebony.”
“No. Seriously, no. I’m going. I’ve had a long day, I’m tired—”
“Don’t.” I step forward again, resting a hand gently on her arm. “Please. Don’t. I’m sorry. I’m trying to understand. I really am. I just miss you so much.”
Her eyes soften, and my hope soars.
“The kiss we shared, it meant so much to me. Don’t you—” The look on her face makes me stop talking. A look something between hope an exasperation that raises my temper again.
“Ebony, didn’t you feel anything? I know you did, it was intense, we both felt it.”
She stays silent, arms folded, looking up at me warily. Her face and eyes are hard, guarded.
I reach out, and she stiffens, keeping her arms folded. She leans away but doesn’t step back. I lean forward, taking her upper arms in my hands. I pull her towards me, desperate, aching.
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