It coats everything around us, and the more I watch, the more it invades. The sizzle of the fire suffocating under my cloak of power only sparks the realisation thatIam doing this.
I wait for the paralysis, but it doesn’t come. Fenix doesn’t stop me with his power—it’s only my own that I feel. It’s a reaction. Perhaps a defence. Certainly dangerous. As my own shadows pull my attention, the slip of emotion follows.
“Did you ever meet them? Our parents?” I ask, letting go of some of the hurt that’s inside of me.
“No.”
“You lied to me on the ship. You told me you knew where they were.”
“I didn’t lie. I do know.”
“But they’re dead.”
“I know where they are buried.”
The words are like a final blow. He knew they were gone, and even more, he knows where they are at rest.
“You’re learning. But don’t waste it just because you’re angry.”
The Maker made me believe that emotion would be a hindrance to my power, but maybe it isn’t. If I can use my power—let it manifest as something physical—when I’m emotional,rather than relying on touch, to pull or absorb power, then I can fight.
“I’d like to go to bed.”
“In the dark?” The mockery in his voice is clear, but it does nothing to help me pull back the darkness I’ve created. I think of Kyra—the only calming influence I have—and imagine we’re back in my room, the dancing snowflakes swirling around our heads.
As I picture the scene, the dark splotches of shadow fade like the melting snowflakes in my room.
“Is your band of outlaws done with my new cell?”
“We’re not outlaws, Ever. We have the same beliefs as our parents. You’ve only known your own magic for a matter of weeks. Don’t deign to judge them as outlaws for fighting for a better life.”
His comment is surprising and leaves me with no answer to spar with. “Bed?”
Fenix stands and walks from the main area towards his own tent.
“I’m not sharing a tent with you,” I protest.
“No, you’ll try to kill me in my sleep. You’ll be here.” He steps out and around the draped area where he prepared our breakfast, and I see another smaller tent, probably only big enough for a small cot bed. He pulls back the drapes of fabric and lets me in.
Stepping inside, I look around, and I’m right. There’s a small cot similar to Fenix’s, a table, and a lamp. And then I notice the thick wooden posts, less than a foot apart, encircling me.
“Sleep well.” Fenix pulls the wooden gate closed on me before sliding a log into place, barring my exit, and lets the fabric drop back into position, camouflaged from the outside.
“Great.” I’m back in a cell. Just a prettier one.
seventeen
. . .
Aten
“Crim, you’re hurt. And we can’t see, so for the love of Aslendrix, stop using your speed. It’s not getting us anywhere.”
“You know, Ten. You don’t get to tell me what to do here. Nobody does.” Her voice echoes back along the trail she’s decided to follow.
“Do you really think they’re going to lock us in a mountain-side cave if there’s a way out on the other side?” I call.
The narrow tunnel of the cell balloons out into a series of tunnels that run deeper into the mountain. The air is thick and dense, as if it’s grown weary and heavy from surviving in the dark for so long, but there is a cooler breeze coming from somewhere.
