“It truly is, Leo. It’s uncommon and often undetected until children reach their teen years—then only revealed when parents…well…you can imagine all the ways pubescent teens would use such a skill, albeit most often unintentionally.”
Not at all difficult to see how someone with this Affinity could go very, very wrong, either.
“Withers—he has this skill, doesn’t he? It’s why he lost his license to be an Adept?” Grayson asks.
Both Luminaries look reluctant to speak of it, but in the end, Ignatius nods.
“Thankfully, Mr. Withers has more of a Talent rather than a full-scale Affinity—if you could call it that. And one we’d not discovered until it was too late.
“It’s difficult to detect when it’s not the primary Affinity, and we don’t test our Novices in this area otherwise. You must understand that Talents must be developed. I have a Talent for flying, but I could not simply step off a roof and take to the air without notice. I must practice.”
So Withers had honed his manipulation until he’d perfected it.
“So now we worry about whether Withers could…what? Make us do something we wouldn’t normally do?” Leo asks, aghast. “Like jumping off a bridge? Hurt someone we love?”
Grayson growls again, and this time, he makes no apologies.
“In our experience, Mr. Withers’s Talent doesn’t extend to making his victims do something outside their normal realm of possible behaviors. For example, if you weren’t inclined to rob a bank in the first place, it would be unlikely that he could persuade you otherwise.”
“Forgive me, but that is hardly reassuring,” Finn states.
“Agreed,” Nimue says with a sigh.
“I know it doesn’t help now, but we will rectify our last insufficient verdict—with a new, more restrictive one.”
“You mean you had the chance to stop him before, and you let him walk?” Leo growls.
“We did. Our roles here are not conducted in the absolute, Mr. Costas. We are entrusted with these decisions, but are, in fact, only human. We…I…had high hopes for Mr. Withers’s rehabilitation.”
“Ignatius, we couldn’t have known he would go so far off the rails. No one had divined his deterioration to this extent. But we will rectify our decision as soon as possible.”
“Perhaps our time could be better spent figuring out how we can protect ourselves against it?” Finn suggests. Surely, the magical community had defenses in place for this sort of thing—especially if their Wardens existed at all.
During the next hour, Nimue helps Grayson learn to enact a sturdy alarm system for himself—and hopefully for them. Once Grayson has constructed the system for himself, he sets about doing it for Leo.
“It’s not a protection so much as an early warning system? It’s sort of a web of light, where any intrusion will give you a moment of clarity. Like a series of tripwires over different parts of your mind,” Grayson whispers, his gaze hazy.
Finn has begun to associate this with Grayson looking inward when he’s using The Plain.
“Sounds complicated,” Leo mutters, but seems no worse for wear.
“This won’t impact my bond with Nix, though, right?” Finn stays Grayson’s hand before he starts.
“It shouldn’t interfere with what’s already there, and Grayson can remove it at any time,” Nimue reassures him.
“He just retracts one edge of the thread, and poof—done.”
He agrees then, without further reservation. Once Grayson assures him it’s in place, Finn feels no different.
“Feels okay?” Grayson asks him as he moves a strand of hair away from Finn’s eyes. He’s eating a chocolate-covered donut like he hasn’t eaten in a year with the other hand, a smudge of chocolate at the corner of his lush mouth.
Finn wipes it away with the tip of his finger and sucks the digit into his mouth while making eye contact.
“Finn,” Grayson groans.
“Can’t feel a thing.” Except pride in his mate’s abilities and at how easily he has taken to this knowledge and the minimal training he’s had.
Finn can’t imagine what he’ll be capable of once he’s had time to get to know himself—the sky’s the limit. His black currant scent reeks of his pride and attraction. His competency kink is activated. Sue him.
