Page 76 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

“Thanks,” I deadpan.

Professor Ainslyn waves us over to a door to the training facility. We take the stairs to a lower level I’ve never seen before. I smile when the lights flicker on, revealing a normal facility with a training mat.

“You two need to practice. But I think it’s best if we start with the basics. No magic. Princess, I’m sorry to say, but your hand-to-hand skills could use some help.”

I roll my eyes but say nothing.

“Prince Anders, please. I’d like to test her and see where we need to start.”

Ryker grins as he drags me by the waist to the center of the mat. Thankfully, before coming here, we both dressed in appropriate attire. Ryker grabs my arm, turning on my energy shield.

“Ah, please no shields,” the professor says from the side.

“He’ll kill me!” I respond in disbelief.

Ryker only laughs, a mischievous smile spreading across his face.

“Don’t be dramatic,” the professor responds. “He’s the most skilled opponent.”

I swear, Ryker preens at the compliment.

“Careful,” I mutter. “Your ego’s already dangerous.”

“You didn’t seem to mind it three days ago.” His gaze lingers like he’s already counting the minutes until we’re alone.

“That was before the universe started ending.”

His smile softens. “Fair.”

“Just the basics to start,” the professor encourages.

I came here to work on my magic, not humiliate myself. Ryker spends every morning honing his skills and his body. It’s clear he puts the work in because, gods, his bare chest is a distraction.

The professor pauses, his gaze flicking to the small satchel at my side. “Hold. You brought it?”

My fingers curl instinctively around the familiar weight of the orb that was gifted to me by elders on the Ancestor Isles. I had forgotten about it until Mera found it in my trunks from school.

I hesitate before pulling it free. The glass sphere fits perfectly in my palm, cool and smooth, its surface catching the low light of the training room. Veins of soft gold and starlight swirl beneath the glass—restless. Waiting.

Ryker’s posture shifts the moment it’s visible. Subtle. Protective.

“I don’t need it,” I say quickly, even as my thumb brushes the surface. He’s been having me familiarize myself with it for the past few days. Every night before bed, I’m supposed to let it call to my magic.

Professor Ainslyn arches a brow. “Humor me.”

I exhale and close my fingers around it. At first, it responds the way it always does—warmth blooming in my chest, a familiar hum answering in my veins. My magic stirs, cautious but eager, like it’s been pacing behind a door for too long.

Then it pushes.

The warmth spikes too fast, too sharp. My breath stutters as the light inside the orb flares, brighter than it should, slipping past my grip like water through clenched fingers.

“Raea,” Ryker warns.

I try to pull it back. Ground it. Do everything the professor has taught me.

Instead, the pressure builds—too much, too soon. My vision blurs at the edges as heat licks up my arm, the orb vibrating hard enough that my fingers ache.

“No,” I whisper. “Wait⁠—”