“Yes, but never on purpose. I haven’t learned?—”
“No time like the present. Or shall we add Lord of Procrastination to that aforementioned list?” Elyria scooted closer, the fingers of her free hand brushing Cedric’s forearm. “First, breathe.”
He inhaled.
“Good,” she murmured, her hand sweeping up his arm. “Now, close your eyes.”
He closed his eyes.
“Reach into the well of power that sits right”—he felt her palm on his sternum—“here.”
Cedric could not stop himself from leaning into her touch, his entire body shuddering with relief, the tether pulsing dully in the exact spot where Elyria rested her hand.
“Your magic is already within you,” she said softly. “It is not something to force, it’s something to summon. Think of your power as a well—it is there, waiting for you to draw upon. You just need to find that first spark.”
“Then what?”
It was like he couldfeelher smiling. “Then, you harness it. You wield it.”
Cedric took a slow breath. Then another. Tried to focus on the words she was saying, not just the way it felt to have her voice curlinto his ears.
Finding his fire, letting the heat bloom, that was the easy part. At any given moment, it simmered just beneath his skin. And with Elyria right there next to him? Touching him? It roared in his veins.
The hard part was figuring out how to secure it, touse it, without letting it consume him—and her, and every member of their party, and every stars-damned tree surrounding them.
He narrowed his focus to the singular sensation of Elyria’s hand on his chest. On the warmth he felt there, even though he knew he must be imagining it. He knew any heat had to be coming from himself, not from her. In his mind’s eye, he visualized it as a deep pool, a well of light. He dipped his hands in and scooped some up, cupping liquid sunlight between his palms.
Harness it. Wield it.Elyria’s voice echoed in Cedric’s mind, as clearly as if they’d been spoken anew, and hearing them bolstered something in his spirit.
Cedric imagined strings of light forming, weaving together into a kindling flame. He tried to visualize the wood waiting in the firepit, what it might be like to ignite it, his magic ready to?—
There was awhooshingsound, and Elyria let out a frustrated groan, pulling her hand back and leaving an ice-cold chill in its wake.
Cedric’s eyes snapped open, promptly landing on the roaring fire that had just come to life before him.
His brow creased.
Because while he had beenjust about readyto throw his flame toward the wood, he hadn’t actually done so yet.
Which meant that the fire hadn’t come from Cedric.
It came from?—
“What do you want?” Elyria’s voice was tight, the words sour.
Cedric tensed. Turned. Followed the line of her dagger-filled gaze.
To the fae standing a few yards away, blond hair pulled back in a low ponytail, hand still stretched toward the fire.
Raefe.
31
DEEPER MOTIVATIONS
ELYRIA
She’d knownthe fire wasn’t his the instant it sparked.
