Page 139 of Spoils of war

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I stared at him. “I… I don’t think it works like that.”

He gave one of those shrugs that somehow managed to look both lazy and smug. “I think it does.”

I looked away, heart already tightening. “Maybe I don’t need moon drops. Maybe I’m okay now.”

He snorted, no softness in it. “No, you’re not. I’m not risking waking up surrounded by fire ever again.”

That hit harder than I expected.

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “Fine,” I muttered.

I knelt beside the bowl and pressed my hands close to it, not touching, just hovering. The water rippled slightly with my movement. I tried to picture it—flames curling, rising, dancing. Not burning. Not hurting. Just warmth. Controlled. Gentle.

Nothing.

Not even a flicker.

Aran leaned in beside me, his voice unhelpfully curious. “Anything?”

I shook my head, jaw clenched.

He grinned. Smug bastard. “Want me to… help?”

I didn’t even bother answering. Just glared.

He leaned a little closer, too pleased with himself. “Worked before.”

“Aran—”

“Flower. Tree. Come on,” he said, voice full of mock innocence. “Let me help.”

I closed my eyes, fingers curling tight around the crystal at my neck. I focused. Or tried to.

Still nothing. Just cold. Just silence.

Then Aran’s voice dropped low. Almost too quiet to hear.

“Think of those robbers.”

My body tensed.

“They beat me near to death,” he murmured, too calmly. “Would’ve killed Will too, if they’d had time.”

I tried not to hear it. Tried to let the words slide past.

“But not before they made us watch what they did to you.”

My stomach twisted.

“They wanted you to die screaming,” he whispered, soft and sharp, like a knife pressed just beneath the skin. “Not for any reason. Just because they could.”

My breath caught.

“Because men like that feed on it,” he went on, barely louder than the wind. “They take and take and take until there’s nothing left but silence. That’s the part they love. The ruin.”

His words slithered under my skin, found the cracks I tried to forget.

“Just like the Eredians,” he said, voice lower now, almost reverent. “You saw them in your home. You knew what they were going to do to your family. And you couldn’t stop it.”