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“It is not—”
“Don’t say it,” I interrupt him. “Do not say that word again.”
The anger that flashes in his eyes is like the smell of my favorite food when I’m hungry. The way that first whiff of it makes your mouth water and your stomach grumble with desire, except this isn’t in my stomach. It’s different but the same. Enticing, almost seductive. Before either of us speaks the sun sets and darkness falls over the forest like a thick blanket blocking out the light.
Dugald works his mouth as if it is dry, then he swallows. He darts his eyes around, taking in our surroundings, and then I watch his face as he carefully chooses his words.
“This is why you must continue your training,” he says.
“How do you know her?”
I can’t suppress my smile at his reaction. The corners of his mouth turn down. He has nice lips. Lips that are made for kissing, but I push aside that random thought. He blinks rapidly, then looks to the side.
“I—”
“Don’t lie to me.”
His frown deepens and he nods slowly.
“You’ll have to ask her.”
“I’m asking you.”
My anger has become a second heartbeat, throbbing in my head, each pulse building on the last. The pressure is going to blast my head apart if I don’t let it out soon. My body trembles with the effort to contain it.
“The Druid will train you if—”
“Damn it.”
Power flows in even as the darkness around us deepens. Part of me, the rational part, screams to stop. That part of me is watching events unfold and knows it’s going to be bad. I’m watching a car wreck happen like an oncoming train but I’m helpless to keep it from happening. The darkness throbs as if its feeding on my rage. Seeping power like a leech sucking blood.
“Quinn.” Dugald looks around and takes a step back. I feel him drawing power in as he does. “Stop—”
“I wanted one thing.” I raise my fist between us and wave it in the air. “Is he alive. Did he survive? Even knowing that, I could have been okay. You know. I know you know, but you won’t tell me. Won’t give me that one damn thing.”
“I can’t tell you.”
Power surrounds him, swirling in soft golden sparkles, like thousands of lightning bugs dancing to some unheard sound. He grows larger, challenging.
“You mean won’t.”
I pull in power. It’s instinctive, I’m not controlling it. As he grows I must be too because now I’m eye to eye with him, no longer looking up to meet his eyes.
“Stop this, Quinn.”
“Is he alive?” I ask as my vision narrows.
He knows. He knows and he’s hiding it from me. I can take it from him. I can make him tell me.
“You don’t know what you’re—”
I don’t move, physically at least, but as a burst of fresh anger flashes something hits Dugald. It’s like a magical fist that I know comes from me, but not something I did consciously any more than I controlled what happened when I went toe-to-toe with the Hag in the Fae lands.
Dugald rocks with the hit, stumbling back to keep from losing his feet. When he looks up his mouth twists into a grimace and he growls. The raven caws and Dugald waves a dismissive hand in its direction. His burning eyes lock on mine and there is no mistaking the message. It’s on.
He rushes forward, bent low with his left shoulder leading. Violence sings in my blood. A mighty melody that carries me along with it. He’s rushing but it feels like I’ve all the time in the world. I analyze his position, speed, note where his weight is centered and then at the last possible moment I step to one side, lithely and easily.
I surprise myself with how easy it was. My body responds in ways it never would have before. Muscles crackle with strength. Dugald barrels through where I was a moment before, and as he passes I bring an elbow down on his back.
