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“I tried to exit the shop with it, but he grabbed hold of my wrist. I know he didn’t mean to, but he accidentally singed my shirt. He burned through the fabric and then he began to burn my skin, too. I screamed, but within seconds, his power disintegrated. The red marks on my skin all but disappeared. Cyrus’s jaw dropped as he stared at my arm. I think he was likely horrified that he’d burnt my skin, but he was even more horrified that his magic was gone.
“Neither of us really understood how it happened. I didn’t bring it up to my parents that day. We were too afraid we’d get in trouble for fighting in town. But after a few more similar incidents, I eventually had to talk to someone. Turns out it runs in the family on my mom’s side. There’s been a line of secret siphons in our family tree, unbeknownst to the rest of the world. It skipped my mother and my grandparents, but my great grandfather was a siphon.”
When I finished speaking, I realized Emilie was still dragging her thumb over my wrists. I shivered, and she stopped. She flipped my hands over and rested her hands in mine. “Do it again.”
I knew she was under the impression that I could store the magic. That if I siphoned daily, maybe I’d have enough to move a mountain, or at least blast through one. But I’d never tried that either. I’d never had reason to.
“There isn’t a lot known about siphoning, Emilie. Those who have the capability keep it to themselves. There are no texts to study or scholars to learn from. Everything I’ve learned has been from experience. I don’t know if it’ll be any use, siphoning like this daily.”
She seemed unfazed, and I turned my focus to the magic laced in her tattoos. “We can try. What else are we going to do in our spare time?”
There was nothing remotely impure about the comment, but I instantly thought of several things I’d rather be doing in our spare time.
Gods help me.
My hands shook, but she didn’t seem to notice. I needed a distraction. “I’ve shared a story. It’s your turn to tell me something honest.”
Her face went slack, thinking of something she could share in exchange for the story I’d provided.
“My brother is three years older than I am. The day of my fifteenth birthday, I caught him sneaking off with a girl. Some blonde woman I’d never seen before. She was quite beautiful, though, and she was laughing at something he’d said. I followed them and before he was able to duck into a closet with her, I’d called out his name.
“He turned around and scolded me. Told me to go back to my room and to mind my business, but I warned him. You see, I knew if I’d never met her, then she couldn’t be nobility. She wasn’t suitable for him. It’s what our parents had repeated over and over again. The expectation for us to marry someone with standing. He was supposed to be king, after all.”
I scoffed. It was well known that those in Dreslen liked to make up titles for themselves. The only king in Lourova was Cyrus. Emilie’s brother Adrien was a lord at best.
She rolled her eyes but continued. “I told him not to make this mistake. His response was a cynical laugh, something I’d never heard from him before. He stalked over to me and put his hands on my shoulder, and I’ll never forget what he said to me. He said, ‘Emilie, you’re in for a lifetime of pleasing other people. The best you can hope for is to have some fun along the way.’ He practically skipped to meet that girl hiding in a closet.
“My brother had followed every single rule in his life. I’d never seen him so much as break a curfew. But here he was, taking a chance for a secret rendezvous with a beautiful young woman.
“Later that night he came to my room, looking…frazzled.” She laughed. “He sat on the edge of my bed, looking much more somber, and asked me not to say anything to our parents. He looked a little bit nervous, actually.
“I asked him why he’d risk so much. If she was worth it. And he said that she was the love of his life. And it broke his heart that he could never be with her. It really hit me in that moment. That my future would be completely and utterly loveless.”
My hands paused the slow circles I’d been tracing on her wrists. I tried to meet her eyes, but she was staring at the floor blankly. Waves of tragic longing rolling off her.
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” I said quietly.
She shrugged and finally met my gaze. “Cyrus is a good man.”
I nearly choked on a sharp inhale, deflating a little. “He is. He’ll be good for you.”
I dropped her hands, no longer feeling up to siphoning. “I think that’s enough for today.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Emilie
That evening, Ladon and I ate in silence. It wasn’t the usual ominous quiet that preceded his private encounters with Reyna. Instead, it was a comfortable, peaceful quiet. The kind that two friends might share on a spring day, basking in the sun near the sea. There was no call to break the silence. We were able to just…exist. To cohabitate.
So when the knock on the door came, right as we finished our dinner—pork, rice and a brown sauce—we both startled. I watched as Ladon swallowed, his throat bobbing. He stood and donned that statuesque, unfeeling mask he wore so well, and waited for Reyna to enter.
This evening she wore a maroon garment, something akin to a robe. It draped across her chest in a deep ‘v’ and tied together with a satin bow in the front. The slit to the side exposed a long, lean leg, paler than the moon.
She might’ve been beautiful if it weren’t for the vicious scowl on her face. If it weren’t for the darkness that lingered in her eyes.
“Glad to see you’re ready for me, Ladon. Is it possible you’re looking forward to our evenings together?” She flashed him a flirtatious smile, and I wanted to gag. Then she turned to me. “I require your company this evening as well, Emilie.”
Panic aggressively spread through my body. Reyna had never requested me unprovoked. Had I been foolish to think I was safe?
