Page 60 of Awakened Ash and Alchemy

The bathroom filled with silence, and also her thoughts. One stood out: He who asks a question is a fool for a minute; when he who does not remains a fool forever. She’d found that saying in a fortune cookie and had stuck it inside her notebook when studying law.

Thinking of fortune cookies made her stomach rumble. She never did get her Chinese food. But to find her answers, it was enough for her to slowly rise from the floor. And with the fire poker still in hand, she slid back the lock.

When she opened the door, Zarek was exactly where she’d pictured him, with his back against the wood, knees drawn up, hands loosely holding his gloves.

“Right. Let’s do this properly, shall we? You explain the Accords and the rules of this place. And you stop making unilateral decisions about my life.”

The corner of his jaw flexed as he got to his feet. “Agreed.”

She held out her hand. It wasn’t surrender, and she hadn’t forgiven him either, but they had to start somewhere.

Zarek went utterly still. “I can’t touch people.”

“But I did when I fixed your wound.” Her gaze dropped to the side of his leather armor. It was covered in the same markings carved into the stone walls that stretched behind him. They ran along the doorframes, across the beams, and even along the bed’s headboard in a repetitive pattern, like a spell.

“Those staves on your armor and in this room… I know some staves are for protection. Are they about you?”

Again, his jaw flexed as he nodded. “Sometimes, I lose control. When I was younger, I’d burn the bed in my sleep without meaning to, until we found the right staves to contain the flame.” The sole of his boot scraped across the floor, scored with markings deep in the black slate.

“So, your magick burns?” She remembered the flare of red fire the night he’d fought the Black Cloak, like a violent weapon hidden beneath his skin.

“Yes.”

“But it didn’t burn me. And you slept in my bed and didn’t burn that.”

He dropped his head briefly, as if the memory unsettled him. “The Poison Blade steals our power.” Then he looked up again. “But it didn’t this time. I returned healed. Stronger.”

“Was it this Poison Blade that allowed me to touch you? Or…” She didn’t finish.

“I think it’s your immunity to magick. But I won’t risk testing that theory out.” He stepped away from her as he slid one hand into a thick glove.

She frowned. “What are you doing?”

“My touch can burn flesh. And my gaze…” His jaw tightened as he pulled the glove tight onto his hand like a second skin. “If I lose control, my sight can overwhelm the mind. It fractures thought. I’ve driven men mad without meaning to.”

“And yet,” she whispered, holding out her bare hand, “I’m still standing.”

“Angela—”

“I won’t ask twice.” She wanted to test his theory. If he burned her, it would show how wrong they were and she could go home. “Go on. Do it.”

Slowly, Zarek removed the glove, but he paused as if scared to hurt her.

She didn’t hesitate as this might be her way out. So she clasped his hand tight, bracing for the worst as skin met skin.

But…

There was no fire or searing flare, only a steady warmth. Yet it was more than that; Angela felt the shift that stirred under his skin. The tight coils of tension softened as he exhaled slowly and his eyes lifted to meet hers.

In this light, they were a stunning teal as clear as sea glass. They were so deep they could swallow a person whole.

If what he’d said was true, that gaze could unravel a mind. And yet her mismatched eyes held his. The pressure didn’t invade. There was no push or pull, only that curling of his magick like a dragon lowering its head to wrap around itself, like a cat padding its bed to purr instead of breathing fire.

She didn’t break eye contact, even though she felt the intensity of this moment, she did not let go of his hand.

In return, his fingers tightened slightly, not possessively, while searching her eyes for answers.

“You don’t burn,” he said quietly, as if recalibrating centuries of certainty. The staves along his leathers did not flare like they had the night he’d battled the Black Cloaks, where the air had crackled with the electricity of his power. And the dragon-like layer of power beneath his skin did not strike.