Page 28
“You made a bargain for control, Aella. You need to face the power you’ve been running from.”
“I know what I agreed to.” My voice falters, the stubborn edge cracking enough to let doubt seep through. My eyes slide shut at the sound. It makes no sense, this choking fear. I struck the bargain for this—so I could master my magic before I suffer the consequences he spoke of. For Nyssa. For all the ways I’ve failed to keep the people I love safe.
Yet when I reach for the latch inside myself, my hand closes on nothing. Some unseen barrier sits between the knowing and the doing, between intent and nerve. I can name the steps, count the breaths, speak the vows—even carve them into skin—but when it comes to loosening my grip on the ring, on the illusion of safety it buys me, my courage gutters.
I hate it. I hate that the fear is louder than the promise I made. Lounder than my own life. Louder than love.
“I’m not ready.”
“You’re never going to feel ready.” Lyxander leans forward, hands clasped together as he braces his elbows on his knees. “Theïkós doesn’t disappear. It builds inside you. Pressure without release. One day, it will break free, and when it does, you won’t be able to stop it.”
“You don’t—”
“Understand?”
I’m thrown by his tone. It’s rough, stripped of any courtesy.
“I grew up fearing my own theïkós. It was like something caged inside me, tearing at the walls of my chest. I thought if I ignored it long enough, it would go away. I thought I could outrun it. Suppress it. Hide it. But such power doesn’t work that way. It doesn’t wait for you to be ready. It—”
“Breaks you.”
His jaw locks, throat working around the words I imagine he can’t bring himself to say. And for the first time, he looks less like a weapon and more like the wound carved from one. Finally, he nods. “And when mine broke free, it nearly killed me.”
What kind of magic could tear him apart from the inside? What power was the Eagle willing to risk war with Eretria for?
“What is your theïkós?” I ask.
Lyxander smirks. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“We’ve already made—”
“A deal,” he says. “Not a bargain. When you take your ring off, I’ll tell you what it is.”
The words hang in the air, and I can’t tell if it’s a challenge or a promise. Maybe both.
I worry my bottom lip, turning the thought over in my mind as the silence stretches, broken only by the groan of the chair as he shifts his weight.
“Sleep on it.” He stands, extinguishing the lantern before returning to his seat by the fireplace. “I’ll take first watch.”
Reluctantly, I draw the covers back and crawl into the bed. Exhaustion tugs at my consciousness as I turn onto my side, muscles unraveling like threads pulled taut for far too long.
Yet even as my body releases, my mind does not.
My eyes fix on the wall, but my thoughts circle the vial of somniseed hidden in my pack. The ache for it is deep, a craving that gnaws at my resolve.
A creak of wood disrupts the silence, and the sound grates against my nerves.
“Can you stop that?” I say, twisting my head to glare at Lyxander.
“The chair isn’t very forgiving.”
He leans back slightly, and it creaks again.
“Get on the bed,” I snap.
He stares at me, unblinking, and his body is just as motionless, as though my words have shocked him into stillness. I’m stunned too, but before I can even think to take the words back, he stands and slowly approaches.
I shove a pillow between us as he lies down. “Stay on your side, and don’t fall asleep.”
