Amir offers his hand to me. “Unless you’d rather open a portal yourself. Though I’m not sure why you bother with doors. You have some of my magic.”
I stiffen. Oh shit. He knows.
Amir pulls his hand back and clasps it behind him, watching my face. “I know a siphoner when I see one. Though you are very different. Almost as if you’ve been carefully constructed by Mother Fate.”
The words send a chill through me, fear and something like pride mixed together. I lift my palm. Blue-gold light cracks the air, the magic spreading into a clean vertical line that widens until the royal cabin is visible on the other side.
The lake stretches out in front of me, broad and still, reflecting the sky like a perfect mirror.
Amir steps through behind me. I close the portal. The blue-gold folds in on itself and disappears with a soft snap.
“How long have you known?” I ask, looking at my hands.
Amir grins, the expression almost fond. “I am very old, Aaron. I know a true-born siphoner when I see one.”
He turns toward the water.
“There were only a few siphoners after the Great War,” he explains. “All Blackwoods. Never a warlock, though.”
“I don’t understand my magic.”
Amir keeps watching the water. “It’s not meant for you to understand it. Your magic simply needs you to accept it. And you have.” He looks at me, and the grin softens into something gentler, almost paternal. “You were born to rule, Aaron, not exist as a low-level warlock. Mother Fate sees you. You were meant to do great things.”
I sigh, the weight of his expectations pressing down on me. “I don’t want to rule, Uncle Amir.”
“That is very disappointing to hear.”
“Why are you trying to pass it down to me? Why are you trying to pass it down at all?” I need to understand.
Amir turns back to the water and lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s difficult to explain.”
I watch him, then look to the water myself. The lake laps at the rocky shore, a steady rhythm that would be soothing under different circumstances. Across the water, Wintermoon land stretches out under the gray sky.
“I can tell my gift didn’t come without a requirement,” he says.
“What gift?” I ask, though part of me already knows.
He smiles. “For a very long time, I yearned for something so small, simple, yet I never thought about what it would cost me.”
I just look at him, waiting.
“I yearned for love. I give love constantly, but I never had a true love of my own.” He looks to me, vulnerability in his eyes. “Until my Anora.”
I look away because watching him say her name like that does something to me I’m not ready for, awakening a yearning I recognize all too well.
“Then fate blessed me with Solomon.” He smiles.
He looks away from me, back to the water, his profile suddenly older, wearier. “I have no right to be king after what I’ve done.”
“I know your history,” I murmur, and clear my throat. The next words come out carefully. “The bear shifter clan.”
Amir doesn’t flinch.
“Wintermoon has forgiven you,” I say.
“You don’t understand because you’re so young.” His voice is steady, but the lightness is gone. “A true king should not live in fear of his own people. My job is to serve, and unfortunately that is not something I can offer right now.”
I let his words sit, absorbing their weight. A bird crosses low over the water, its wingbeat breaking the reflection, sending ripples across the surface.
