I’m breathing heavily – whether from rage or exertion, I can’t be sure. To my surprise, Fox just grins and pops a berryinto his mouth. There’s a crunching sound as he bites down on the frozen fruit, chews slowly and then swallows, his eyes never leaving my face.
Emboldened by my small surge of power, I do the same, taking a berry and cracking the thin layer of ice with my teeth.
‘Impressive,’ Fox says, as sweetness explodes on my tongue. ‘Only, if you’re going to produce some real ice, you’ll have to channel a lot more anger than that.’
The sweetness turns sour the second his words land and their implication slams into me, knocking the air from my lungs. ‘I … You …’ I spit out the berry. ‘How do you know that?’
‘What?’ Fox asks innocently. ‘About your ice making specifically or the fact that your water gifts are anchored to your emotions?’
I stare at him, utterly aghast. How can he possibly know about Melding? It’s a secret the Rain Singers protected for thousands of years, one they took to their graves. Only a handful of people know the truth, and I doubt that either River or Queen Hydra would ever have entrusted it to Fox. I consider briefly whether his grandfather may have told him, but what would Caius Castellion have to gain from offering up that information?
There’s nothing about Melding in any of the stories about the Singers, nor is it mentioned in any of the history books – save for the mysterious volume that appeared to me in the Golden Library, River’s handwriting scrawled in the margin. But I’m having a hard time believing my trainer would have just left it lying around.
At last, I find my voice. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Then you’re forgetting something, Storm Weaver,’ Fox says, casting his eyes down. I follow his gaze to the talisman round his neck.
Of course.
Nobody told Fox about Melding. He didn’t hear about it in a story or read about it in a history book. Why would he? He has history at his fingertips. Historybelongsto him.
‘So, you used the Eye of the Past not only to unearth the secret of the Rain Singers but to discover my anchors?’
Fox considers this for a moment. ‘If I said no, would you believe me?’
I take a step closer to him, incensed. ‘Do you know howpersonal …how much of aninvasionthat is? I haven’t even told Flint about Melding.’
‘Well, perhaps you should,’ Fox muses. ‘Provided you manage to find him.’
A jet of cold water hits him square in the chest. I blink, momentarily stunned, as I watch rivulets streak down his torso, soaking his shirt. I feel it then –power.Magic stirs, as though waking up, growing stronger, just like my fury.
‘Don’t talk about my brother,’ I snap.
‘You’re the one who brought him up. And speaking of brothers, would you rather we discussed mine instead?’
Another stream of water barrels into Fox’s legs.
‘I’ll take that as a no,’ he says, smiling deviously. ‘Only it seems you felt differently last night. You said his name in your sleep, you know.’
Heat blooms across my cheeks. ‘Liar.’
‘You say lots of things in your sleep, Storm Weaver.’
This time, when the water shoots straight at his face, he sidesteps out of the way. ‘It really was most unlike Haldyn, manipulating you like that. Out of the two of us, he’s always been the more chivalrous one. I don’t blame you for falling for his lies.’
Gleaming icicles, ragged and sharp, begin to form on the underside of the branch where Fox had been sitting.
His expression turns suddenly tortured. He clutches at his shirt theatrically. ‘It kills me, Blaze,’ he imitates, ‘knowing I can’t have the one that I want.’
Every vein in my body seems to turn to ice. He’s gone too far.
‘Stop spying on my life!’ I yell. ‘Stop snooping through my memories! They’reMINE!’
No sooner have the words left my mouth than the first icicle falls. It catches Fox on the side of his shoulder. Blood slides down his arm, pooling in his palm. He’s still holding the berries, which are now no longer black but stained crimson.
He holds them out to me. ‘Want one?’
I stare at him, my chest heaving.
