Page 184 of The Edge of Darkness

She let hers fizzle out as she watched mine. “I don’t understand.”

“Do you remember how you used it in your home to restrain me? Or how you bound Ramil to the chair in the temple?”

She took her bottom lip between her teeth as she nodded.

“You only intended for it to be a shackle. Therefore, it didn’t burn. But it can. You could have commanded it to transfer its energy to me or to him. It’s all about the intention one has when wielding it. It can stop someone’s heart if I command it to.”

The lightning arced from my hand and reached out toward her. She flinched in surprise, then fell still as the bolt of energy zipped along her skin.

“It’s . . . quite beautiful, actually,” she said, watching the light as it branched out over her arm.

It was beautiful. And dangerous. Just like her.

I considered saying as much, when Niall’s voice suddenly cut into my thoughts like a war horn in the dead of night. You look like you need this, he said just as a stranger approached, carrying a tray of drinks. When she offered one to me, I took it, nodding in thanks.

Using compulsion again, are we? I silently spoke back to Niall.

When it suits me. He chuckled. Good luck with whatever you’re about to do. There was a smirk behind his voice.

I glanced around the surrounding area, but I couldn’t see him. Wherever he was, though, he had a clear view of me. Mind your own business, would you?

His laugh echoed in my mind again, then he went silent.

I blinked, realizing Nivelle was no longer focused on my lightning. She was watching me now. The longer I stared back, the more I fumbled for words. And I was usually never the one to be at a loss for them.

The inked markings on her face seemed natural here, in the presence of the fae who so frequently painted runes on their skin. They accented her features and made me want to reach out and trace them.

“It’s . . . dangerous . . . the lightning,” I said, calling my power back into my veins. This was all starting to feel dangerous in a different sense now.

“And what about you?” she asked, quieter this time, like she was nearing a boundary of her own making, or wary of what I might say.

“Niall didn’t make me the commander of his army simply because I can restrain our enemies.” Light humor. It was the only thing I could think to resort to when I didn’t know how to answer her.

Apparently, it wasn’t what she was looking for. Something in her eyes dimmed, and I could tell by the way she turned her sights on the contents of her mug that she was putting that wall back up between us. My thoughts scrambled, desperately trying to find another way to respond⁠—

Then it dawned on me, what she’d meant.

Silas said she was afraid of losing herself. What if she was also scared to get close to anyone, afraid that they would take another part of her away?

I took half a step forward. “I—uhh, what I meant is . . .”

The truth. Tell her the truth.

“Yes. I am dangerous.”

She lifted her head, listening.

I’m dangerous, but not to you. I wanted to say the words, but I couldn’t quite get them to form right. So I tipped my ale back and drank.

The atmosphere slowed around us as the music changed, dropping to a quiet melody that had many onlookers taking the hands of another and leading them to a dance.

I pushed out a breath, realizing this might be my chance to make something out of this.

Get your shit together, Roirdan.

Slowly, I bent to set my mug on the grass, and when I stood, I offered Nivelle my hand. “Would you like to dance?”

Her brows pinched, almost like she was offended by the offer. Or perhaps she’d never danced before. She had stormed away before I got the chance to ask her the other night. And if she declined me now, I might as well let go of any hope that she would ever accept.