Page 18 of Fate of the Sun King

It all happens so quickly that I don’t have time to think about it. I know it’s forbidden, but I pull on my magic, feeling it spark under my skin. Lightning, bright and red, flashes from my hands, funneling into the spot where I’m gripping the woman’s arm. She screams as she drops me to the ground, the plummet knocking the wind from my lungs before I roll away.

She clutches her forearm as she screams—the fabric of her coat singed and the skin beneath melting off the bone.

She snarls and stomps towards me, but I scramble back, throwing out my hand as another fork of lightning bursts from my fingertips, striking her in the chest. I’m screaming, too, tears running down my cheeks as I fling out my magic over and over, bolts of lightning sparking and cracking until it encases us both. She collapses to the ground, her body twitching as I siphon in more and more of my magic.

“Lor!” someone shouts, and I dimly register the sound of my name. “Lor! Stop it! She’s dead!”

Finally, I force myself to let go. My fingertips hook inward as I seize on the last pulses of my power, tugging it in. When it’s once again tethered under my skin, I find Tristan standing over me. The air crackles with remnants of lightning, hovering like errant wisps of smoke. We both stare at it and then at the body of the Fae. There’s almost nothing left. She’s just a black husk, barely recognizable as anything but a heap of scorched ruin.

“Oh gods,” I sob, clutching my hand to my chest. I did that. I didn’t just stop her, I destroyed her. “Tris. She grabbed me, and I didn’t mean—”

I’m not sure what I’m trying to say.

I did mean to hurt her. She was going to hurt me, there was no doubt. But did I mean to do this?

“It’s okay,” Tristan says, understanding what I can’t seem to say. “We should get out of here, though.”

Tristan shoves his hands under my arms and lifts me up. The lingering crackles of lightning slowly dissipate into hazy red mist, like the atmosphere is burning. Tristan stares at it for a moment and then at me.

“Have you ever done anything like that before?” he asks.

I shake my head, wondering why he looks so worried.

“We should go,” he says again. “Don’t tell anyone about this, okay? Willow went back to the house, and it’ll be our secret. We’ll just worry Mother and Father. She’s gone now, and no one ever needs to know.”

“Okay,” I say, understanding he’s probably right, though I hate lying to my parents. With our hands linked, we head home, running as fast as our feet will take us.

CHAPTER SIX

LOR

APHELION: PRESENT DAY

My eyes fly open, and I register the shape of a body hovering in the darkness. In one swift movement, my hand slips under my pillow, snagging my concealed dagger. I flip over, pinning the intruder to the mattress with the razor-sharp edge pressed to their throat.

It takes me a second to realize it’s Nadir, highlighted in a sliver of moonlight, with his hands up over his head, his palms open in surrender.

My breath expels in a shaky rush, my entire body burning with adrenaline.

Nadir holds himself still, blinking up at me calmly despite the fact I’m threatening a vital artery.

That dream. That forest. That Fae who knew who I was. Somehow, I’d forgotten any of that happened, but it gallops towards me now with alarming clarity. Tristan and I should never have kept any of that quiet.

“What are you doing here?” I demand, waiting for my heartbeat to settle to a less stroke-inducing pace. “Why are you sneaking into my room?”

I don’t know why I’m angry with Nadir other than he just scared the shit out of me. Ever since we escaped the Aurora King in Heart, I wake up at the slightest sound, certain that he’s found us. I had a decade of practice inside Nostraza, always sleeping with one eye open.

“You were screaming,” Nadir says, his words soft, still holding himself still. “I think you were having a nightmare.”

My shoulders climb up to my ears, and I press the blade harder into his throat. It would be so easy to do it. Just the tiniest bit of pressure. A part of me knows he’d let me. It’s so hard to look at him sometimes. To see the resemblance to his father. A constant reminder of everything I’ve lost. Of everything they both could still take.

“Lor,” he says. “It’s okay.”

My gaze meets his. It swirls with violet light, and I remind myself that Nadir isn’t his father. The tenderness in his eyes softens the pellet of rage I keep wedged in the center of my heart.

Finally, I relax, easing the blade from his throat.

“I could have killed you if I wanted,” I say, not sure if that’s entirely true. He could easily overpower me with his magic or good old-fashioned brute force before I ever got the chance.