If they glow, then they should be warm, right? It seems a little silly, holding my hand over my arm, feeling for a metaphysical heat source. This time, something in my gut is convincing me I’m onto something; I have to be.
I refuse to return to the camp without making some progress.
However, my own stubbornness soon comes back to bite me in the ass. Spring may bring warm days, but the evenings are cold, and soon even my cloak does little to hold off the breeze curling through the trees. I’m shivering, and about to give up, when my fingers start to tingle.
At first, I think it’s numbness, even though it’s notthatcold. Then I jerk as the feeling doesn’t dissipate. The realisation comes swiftly, making me feel stupid.
Of course, auras aren’t warm, they’re energy, just like spirits are. And when my guides touch me, they always leave a tingling cold feeling in their wake, so why should an aura be any different?
Now that I know what I’m looking for, it’s easier, but I still wait until I’ve successfully found the cold almost-prickle of my own aura on my arm, my ankle and even my neck before I let myself dream of moving to the next stage.
What was it Drystan said? Imagine it being sucked back into my skin, and trapped there?
Holding the sensation in my mind, I take a deep breath, and then picture slowly sucking it into my skin.
A few minutes into the painfully slow mental exercise, a glow bursts through my eyelids, and I blink open my eyes.
“I can see it,” I whisper, awestruck.
I was only halfway done when I stopped, and I stare at my skin in shock. It’s bright, but not blinding, yet as I watch, the glow begins to brighten, until suddenly it disappears again.
“I stopped too soon,” I mumble. “I can see my own aura when I’ve shielded it enough that it won’t blind me.”
Sweat drips down my brow by the time I manage to dim the golden light down to a gentle luminescence rather than a full sunburst. I can’t seem to suck in the remaining glow, and I don’t know if I have to. Surely this is an improvement?
“Trap it,” I whisper to myself. “How do I trap it?”
“Visualise it stuck beneath your skin.” Drystan’s voice is hoarse.
I shove to my feet, whirling and almost losing my grip in surprise.
“Focus, huntress. Your skin is a natural barrier. Use it.”
My Winter Court Guard is leaning against a silver birch directly behind me, so close I could touch him if I reached out. How long has he been there? All three of my guides have disappeared, leaving us alone, and his amber eyes are fixed on my face, irises glowing as he watches me struggle. The way he looks at me is like a physical caress, and I have to close my eyes or get caught up in that stare.
My skin is a barrier. My skin is a barrier.
“Anchor it.” The gruffness in his voice is edged in bossy demand, and I find myself complying without thinking. “Set the magic with intention.”
When I blink my eyes open again, I’m not certain I’ve managed it. Slowly, I release the hold I’ve had on the glow, trusting the shield around me to hold in the light.
Drystan is still standing there, leaning against the same tree.
“Did… did I do it?”
His nod is jerky and stiff, and he swallows.
He’s not looking away, tracing every inch of my features with a palpable focus that’s as intense as a physical touch. I feel him memorising my face, my ears, the exact colour of my eyes. For a moment, uncertainty flashes through me, and I find myself checking our bond before I can relax.
This is really Drystan, not one of Caed’s tricks, and he’s really looking at me with his lips slightly parted, like he’s seeing the stars for the first time.
Momentary sorrow that I don’t have a full bond with him hits me hard. I wish I knew what he’s feeling.
“I couldn’t get it all,” I mumble, suddenly self-conscious. “But I did it.” Pride flashes through me.
“You did.”
I don’t know what possesses me to do it—maybe later I can blame it on my approaching fever—but in the moment, I don’t think about it. Joy that finallysomethingis going right eclipses all rationality. My hands grab his shoulders, and I pull him down into a jubilant kiss.
