Chapter Seventeen
Avari
Itook the king’s hand into mine and let our fires mingle. The sensation resembled stepping into a warm bath after a long day. It caressed my skin, and my flickers answered with a furious dance.
Both our hands were covered, his crimson and mine a luminous marigold; they fought for dominance. I didn’t fully understand it, but it seemed to please him, and I needed him in a good mood. There was no reason not to indulge it, even if it felt more feral than anything before.
He stood very still, features drawn with concentration. Trying to calm my thudding heart, I said, ‘Now, find my witch magic, too.’
‘Your witch magic?’ Every muscle in his body tensed. His hand twitched in mine without breaking the connection.
I chastised myself for letting it sting. I knew better than to expect acceptance, yet part of me still hoped we might be past that.
‘I conjure my dragon with both. They’re two sides of me. Two halves,’ I explained softly, keeping my voice low so I wouldn’t spook him. I worried he only accepted my fire because he could control it.
Witchcraft and fire had been politically misaligned for a long time. Only days ago, I’d heard the rumour that the treaty to train him might have been a ruse, an assassination attempt. I thought it was absurd. The king was a force of nature; energy pulsed off him in waves, and I doubted I could ever push that image from my mind.
‘How do I find it? I couldn’t sense it when I was healing you,’ River said, eyebrows knitting together. I wasn’t surprised; my green wasn’t as eager for him.
‘My green’s different. Fire spreads through my chest and arms. Witchcraft lives in my heart. You’ll have to dig for it.’ Admitting that my fire was defective by their standards stung, but the milk was already spilt—he felt it when he healed me. My only hope was that he kept it to himself. I couldn’t bear being ridiculed in this court.
He went ashen, like the warmth had left him. I hurried. ‘Listen, you don’t have to do it if you’re uncomfortable.’
Chest rising and falling erratically, his face was the very picture of focus. I watched him, anticipation knotting in my stomach.
‘Is it safe?’ he asked quickly.
The idea that I might pose a threat to him was absurd and somehow offensive. ‘My magic’s gentle.’
His head shook. ‘I meant for you.’
That softened me. ‘Don’t try to overpower it. Let them coexist for a while before I start conjuring so you can sense what it does. I’ll be fine.’
‘Can’t you just draw it out, so we eliminate the risk of charring one of your more vital organs?’ he asked, his thumb brushing over my knuckles absent-mindedly
I rolled my eyes.
‘Oh, it’s only my heart.' I attempted levity. He didn’t find it funny, exhaling slowly through his nose. ‘It starts there. I could show you the after, but you might miss something important that could help you conjure. You don’t have to worry. I trust you.’
‘Since when?’ His pupils widened, his gaze dropping to our joined hands for a brief moment before returning to my face. Something that felt almost like amusement softened the air between us.
‘I’m not sure,’ I admitted. ‘Saving a girl from her mother does wonders. Focus.’
Beads of sweat gathered on his brow as he withdrew most of his flames, leaving only a thin thread to entwine with mine. His rough, calloused palm squeezed mine as if he needed reassurance.
I guided his fire along my own; our palms were the bridge between our bodies. Heat rushed through me and settled in my chest. I held it there, letting it linger so he could feel the green magic pulsing at my core. The warmth felt both foreign and familiar, as welcome as a friend, yet it still left me strangely uneasy.
I refused to rush him after everything that had happened already. My recent near-death experiences were more than enough; there was no need to add one more in the mix.
For a moment, I imagined everything that could go wrong. He must have sensed my hesitation because he dipped his head in a small, reassuring nod and waited for mine before I allowed our fires to carry us both into the sacred green at my heart.
Three sources of power pressed into that tiny space, stretching it until I felt breathless. River froze, unsure how to proceed. I found it bitterly ironic that my heart—of all parts—seemed to reject him.
My weakened green circled his crimson flames like a guardian, marking the intruder and preparing to strike. Heatrose in my chest, and I trembled under the strain. If I didn’t show him how my conjuring worked now, I would collapse, and all the effort would have been wasted.
I coaxed my forces into a swirling orb; they stayed distinct at the edges, merging to a soft olive tone in the centre. The sphere spun faster and faster until I let it surge from my free hand at the peak of momentum.
A giant moss-coloured rift tore open in the sky, and my emerald dragon shot through.
