“I’m not as good at gossip,” Reba admitted.
“Your wings are sore?” Austin noticed the tremble in them from this morning had remained. “I thought they were shaking because you were scared of me.”
Reba’s brows rose. “Scared of you?”
The sincerity of his surprise made Austin sit up, silk sheets falling and bunching at his waist. “You aren’t?”
“No?” Reba’s eyes widened. “Wait, do you want me to be afraid? I’m aware of your power, of course! It’s great indeed, but—”
“Great, but not scary?” Austin glared at his personal winged guard.
“Tristan is intimidating, but he’s fair,” Reba said after some thought. “And you’re powerful, but you…” He hesitated, as if deciding whether to continue. He went on. “You notice when my wings are shaking from exhaustion. And you’re worried it’s because you told me to learn to fly before I can eat Lassie’s cooking again. You gave me a horse that isn’t afraid of my wings, so I can go in formation with the others when we travel to the city. I no longer have to follow on foot. I think you’re good-natured and caring.”
“And scary.”
“Powerful. Intimidating. Beautiful.” Reba smiled. “But not scary.”
His personal guard was incredibly annoying.
“Go deliver the letter,” Austin said. “Onfoot.”
“Will do.” Reba stood, everything in his expression indicating that Austin’s order didn’t perturb him in the slightest.
He was in the doorway before Austin bit out, “Take one of the ugly horses.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Austin tossed a plush pillow onto the floor in front of the fire and settled onto it, munching on his crackers as he studied the stone.
It gave off a peculiar heat, as if it had been baking in the sun all day. The etched lines were sharp and ugly, and the longer he stared, the more pressure bloomed in his head. It was a language, but one his innate understanding failed to translate. He could hear it whispering, though. Scratching straight at his brain like a headache.
He scanned the room. Something from the ocean… Austin’s gaze settled on the bathtub. He filled a bowl with water and sat down once more. Holding the stone, he focused on the water, focused on his power.
“Spin,” Austin ordered, thinking of Charybdis.
The water formed a spiral, leaking out over the lip of the bowl.
Austin tossed the stone aside and shoved a handful of crackers into his mouth.Of course, he thought.It doesn’t even work.
The water in the bowl eventually settled, and Austin’s gaze returned to the stone. The uncomfortable feeling in hishead continued to grow. His power was moving oddly in his body, retreating from his right leg and arm, pushing unevenly into his left side, farther from the stone.
Austin forced himself to pick it up again. “Spin,” he ordered.
The water spun without issue.
The stone grew hotter in his hand, more uncomfortable to look at. Austin wanted to throw the thing away. Not into the ocean—he didn’t want it anywhere near his nest—but somewhere much further than that. Instead, he pressed it to his chest, wincing at the prickle of pain as his power shifted suddenly away from his core, racing into his limbs and head.
“Stop,” Austin ordered.
The water stopped spinning, but slowly.
Eyes watering, Austin pressed the stone to his throat. His power shot down, spreading out through his body, nothing left in his head or throat.
“Spin.”
The stone flared hot against his throat. He cried out in surprise and pain. The stone fell to the ground with a thump, loud despite landing on carpet.
The water didn’t spin.
