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I ignore her words. “You miss it, don’t you?”
Her eyes cut to me then away. “Yes, but also no. The world I was born into had changed. At the time the fae separated from the human and demon worlds…”
At her hesitation, I turn to give her my full focus. “What happened?”
“It was not a good time to be a pureblooded female.” Her hand rises to the tattoo on her head. “Not even one sworn to dedicate her life to the record of history.”
My gut tightens at the tension in her body. I’ve been a cop long enough to recognize the signs. “They wanted to force you into something against your will?”
“To become a record keeper, one must vow to put the chronicling of history first. No relationships are allowed to affect the purity of what we record. For many years, I found fulfillment in my position.” The corners of her lips tilt down. “But then rumors spread that the courts were ignoring those vows for their own ends. So when the veil was closing, I disguised myself to remain on the human plane.”
This is the most personal information she’s ever revealed to me. “Do you regret that choice?”
She shakes her head. “I would ask you the same, but you don’t remember being a prince.”
“It was lacking, or I wouldn’t have also stayed behind.” I take a last sip of water before capping the bottle and straightening. “Okay, break’s over. Can we move on to something besides shifting the pallet around the driveway?”
Determination replaces the sadness in her expression. “How valuable are the contents of this pallet?”
I frown at the cellophane-wrapped square. “Maybe three hundred dollars?”
Her head tilts. “Is that significant to you?”
It’s a lot of money, but would it put a dent in what’s in my bank account? “It’s replaceable.”
“Excellent.” She steps to my side. “This time, when you move the pallet, do it slowly.”
I look down at her. “Weren’t you just mocking me that the forklift can do this faster?”
“Only because you were unintentionally slow.” She gestures toward the pallet. “Done with intention, it holds merit.”
“Okay.” I bend to set my water bottle on the ground. “So, just go slower?”
She dips her chin. “While you move it, observe how your magic feels during the process.”
Frowning, I focus on the pallet. Observe how my magic feels? Dark, slithering, and often hard to grasp. Does it feel any different when I use it? Not that I’ve noticed. It either does what I ask, or it refuses, with no in-between.
With a steadying breath, I reach for that dark slither inside until it stops moving, and then I focus on the drywall in front of us.
It shudders, its outline growing hazy.
It took weeks to move up to something this size, like working a muscle to build strength. Focused on the end result, I never paid attention to what the transferring process looked like.
“Good.” Syl’vyn pitches her voice low so as not to break my concentration. “Nice and slow.”
My heart beats harder, and I struggle to keep my breathing even.
The pallet continues to lose focus, the surrounding environment reclaiming the space it occupies. It shudders in place, the distinctive lines of the cellophane wrap blurring together.
My world narrows, the forest in my periphery darkening and the gravel turning hazy. The only things that fill my vision are the pallet and the patch of muddy grass where I want it go.
With a snap, the drywall vanishes and reappears on the opposite side.
I let out a gasp and sag forward.
“Not bad,” Syl’vyn paces in front of me. “How did it feel?”
My mind struggles to come up with a way to describe it. “Like a rubber band stretched to its limits?”
