“Yes, yes, I’m so very weak and pitiful. Especially in the presence of someone as strong as you.” I layered my words with sarcasm as I rolled my eyes, but there was something almost animalistic about the way his grin stretched further.
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately about Orin’s death,” he hummed.
“Pleasant image, to be sure, but why?”
“Was that the first time you were able to use your threads like that?”
Images of that moment flooded my mind. It’d been so surreal. The influx of Rorik’s magic had clashed with my own until they’d simply become one. And then my life threads had unfurled from my body and split into hundreds of ribbons as glittering flecks had clouded in my moonlit aura. I’d been able to harness that energy into my threads, and they’d answered my call without hesitation. I’d thrust them into the earth and drained the lands of blight while, at the same time, sent the rest of my threads barreling into Orin so I could shove the siphoned blight into his veins.
“Yes. I’ve never heard of another threadmender being able to do something like that, either.”
“You drew power from my magic to bolster your own, which is an incredible feat.” Rorik turned his palm toward the sky and effortlessly summoned a swirling orb of green mist between his fingers. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to accomplish it again, but I was thinking you could try to do that on a smaller scale. Maybe just one thread. And then siphon life from the earth to help strengthen your own thread.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“What is the earth but an abundance of life? It teems with it.” He let the orb of magic disperse and then gestured around him to the swaying trees. “Don’t drain it dry. Just take some so your threads don’t snap off while you’re healing.”
A dull ringing started in my ears as I weighed the possibility of his words. My breath hit faster, and a lightness invaded my chest. If his theory was correct, if I could find a way to harness both magics like he suggested, then the cost of threadmending wouldn’t be my severed life threads. I would simply drain the earth of a small portion of its innate life-giving power in exchange for curing whatever ailment I faced.
Even blight.
I couldn’t keep myself from smiling. “Let’s try it,” I said.
He held out his hand. “I don’t think there’s much I can do except keep my magic at the forefront. The rest is on you.”
Threading my fingers through his, I gave him a squeeze. “That’s all I need.”
Closing my eyes, I summoned both magics to the surface as before. With Rorik beside me, touching me, his magic practically roared with amplified vigor and surged forward just begging to be harnessed. A giddiness filled me to the brim, and my cheeks ached from the strain of my grin. I could do this. I coaxed his magic and mine together again, stretching and twining them like a master spinner until they became one painfully beautiful creation. A golden thread dipped in moonlight.
Slowly, I opened my eyes. Immediately, my gaze went to our joined hands. They were bathed in a delicate glow that was sparked with iridescent, gilded flecks of magic.
“Keep breathing,” Rorik murmured.
And I did. He’d taught me just how powerful a single breath could be. I leaned on that knowledge now more than ever, and the glow remained steady.
And then my first thread appeared. It was no thicker than a string but full of an innate radiance, throbbing with life. With Rorik’s magic now artfully blended with mine, the thread was a beautiful, gilded shade. It twirled aimlessly by my cheek, mussing my hair and dancing in the faint breeze that rolled in from the fields. Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes.
“Rorik,” I gasped.
“Try and command it.” Awe colored his words as he inched closer to me.
I poured all my focus into that solitary thread. I filled it with purpose and willed it to reach toward the earth. Slowly, as if I were tugging it through molasses, it slipped toward the ground.
Burrow deep. Siphon magic from the world like you siphoned blight from the earth not that long ago.
Rorik’s magic filled my senses as wafts of pine and florals bloomed from the blades of grass beneath my thread. The earth seemed to be calling to it. Welcoming it. When I felt the magic swell to an impossible head, I thrust everything I had down that ribbon, and it went barreling into the earth with ease. It churned through soil and mulch to bury itself among the roots.
And then it drank in the earth’s magic. I felt it before I saw it. It was a trickling warmth that barely found its way to me, but the longer I focused on it, the more it flowed. Eyes wide, I stared as the grass surrounding my thread began to wither away in a small radius, until all that was left was dried, cracked soil. My thread extracted itself from the ground, and then my power diminished. No pain. Nothing but a gentle, relaxed sensation, like my muscles had been massaged into butter and my body was yearning for a catnap.
My gaze riveted to Rorik. I barely found the words to speak. “I did it.”
“I know.” His smile, free and clear of anything but joy, was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I threw myself into him with a wild laugh and wrapped my arms around his neck. He smelled of fresh rain and oakmoss, of our magic, and gooseflesh ravaged my skin as I burrowed my nose in his neck. He pulled me in close, his hands deliciously tight on my waist, and I took that moment to grip his face.
And then I kissed him.
My mouth captured his shock, and I slid my hands to the back of his head and threaded my fingers in his hair. At first, he didn’t move. But when I nipped at his lower lip and pulled it between my teeth, he answered with a growl that sent me reeling. His mouth parted for me, and suddenly his tongue was sweeping against mine, and his fingers were digging into the flesh of my sides with a pressure that sent pleasure straight through to my core. He was ravenous in his exploration of my mouth, in the hungry way he devoured my moans. Lust—sultry and heady and warm—twined down our heartbond and brought a flush to my face. He abandoned my hip with one hand and snaked up my back to wrench his fingers in my hair. With a yank, he pulled my head back and exposed my neck. I whimpered as his teeth scraped against my skin, all the way to the shell of my ear, before he gently pulled my lobe into his mouth.
And our magic.
