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He turns to me. “You try.”
My hands tremble a little as I reach for the leaf. I try to focus and see the composition of it, where to slip my fingers, what pieces to manipulate, but I can’t.
“Relax,” Dante says. He moves behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. It’s a strange gesture, but having him there makes me calm.
The plant’s composition comes into focus and I concentrate harder until I’m reading it like a code. Each strand woven neatly through, certain threads knit tightly while o
thers are loose. But when I pull on the strands, the plant crumbles into dust.
“Does that make me the worst gardener?” I ask Erik.
“Let’s say you don’t have a green thumb,” he says.
“Try again,” Dante urges. “You got the time with it.”
“I killed it,” I say in a bleak voice.
“Don’t look at it that way.”
“Is there another way to look at it?”
After a few more tries, I manage to get a leaf to stretch. It’s only a quarter of an inch, but it boosts my confidence. “I want to see how you alter a human.”
“You already saw that,” Dante reminds me softly.
“I saw a human unwound,” I say. “What good is my alteration ability if I don’t know how to use it?”
“I think being able to rip someone’s flesh apart is a pretty good way to use it,” Erik offers.
I shoot him a look. “The more I see outside of a stressful moment, the more I’ll be able to control my alterations when there’s a crisis.”
“So you want to practice on me?” Erik asks.
“Spoken like a true volunteer,” I say, giving him a sweet smile.
“Don’t try to charm me, Adelice Lewys,” he warns, but I already know I’ve won.
“Why don’t you watch for now?” Dante suggests. He reaches for Erik’s arm, but Erik doesn’t extend it.
“Wait, that seems like you’re going to touch me,” he says.
“You aren’t being terribly open-minded,” I tell him.
“Forgive me,” Erik says sarcastically. “I’m attached to my skin. Literally.”
“Never mind, we’ll do it on Ad,” Dante says. “You’ll be able to see as well.”
I don’t hesitate in thrusting my arm out to him. I sink back into my head, trying to clear my mind of distractions, waiting for my own composition to come to life but Erik pushes my hand down.
“Do me,” he commands.
“I guess chivalry isn’t dead,” Dante mutters.
“What was that?” Erik asks.
“Nothing.”
But I can tell from the pinched expression on his face that Erik heard. He doesn’t want to admit why he’s so eager to volunteer, and I don’t want to think about it. About what it means. That Erik is protecting me, because I not only don’t need Erik to protect me, but I also don’t want him to.
