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Hellion crossed their arms and sat in the chair across from me, stretching out their sore leg. “What’s on your mind?”
“Huh? Nothing.” I turned away.
“Lie to me once and I’ll let it slide, Nevahn. Do it twice and I’ll be insulted.” They lifted their eyebrows. “If you don’t want to tell me why you got the snot beat out of you in the practice yard, that’s fine, but I can tell when something’s bothering you.”
My shoulders slumped, and I sank into the chair. They were far too preceptive for their own good. “How did you find out you had magic?”
They blinked owlishly for a moment before answering. “Magic has a strong genetic component. My people don’t marry. Having children is…contractual. My parents were both powerful shadow weavers who sought to sire another weaver. I was born to it.”
I squirmed in the chair, trying to get comfortable. “Oh. So, there’s not a test for it or something?”
“Humans do not have magic,” they said, narrowing their eyes.
“I know. I meant…” I sighed. “Never mind.”
“Did something happen? Is that why you were beaten so badly?”
I frowned. “It wasn’t that bad.”
Hellion snorted. “Your face says otherwise. When Cian sees, he’ll be furious.”
“He’ll just heal the damage like he always does.” When I woke up sore that morning, Cian had offered to heal that, too. I’d declined out of some foolish sense of endearment, as if sitting sorely were some pleasant reminder of how he’d rearranged my insides.
Hellion suddenly scooted their chair closer. “Hold your hands up like so.” They lifted their hands.
I tried to mimic their positioning, extending two fingers and a thumb and tilting my fingers inward.
“My people call magicroh,” they explained, focused on their fingers. “It is the same word we use for breath. Just as your parents breathed life into you, a mage breathesrohinto existence. We pull it from the air into our bodies, where it is shaped and molded to our will. And when we cast…” Shadow tinged in gold slithered from Hellion’s fingers, coiling in the air like snakes. “The expression is as unique as the caster.”
“It’s that simple?” I asked.
“Yes, and no. Some may be born withrohand no strength to bend it to their will. Even for those who have shown the will, it is difficult.Rohis one part power, one part will, and one part intention. Unless you have all three, even a predisposition for magic will not be enough for it to fully manifest. It requires focus on these three aspects to formrohinto something useful. We must first believe it can be done, command it into being, and have intention always at the forefront of our concentration.”
Power, will, and intention. They made it sound easy.
Hellion gripped my hands gently and slowly started pushing my fingers toward each other. The air around my hands suddenly felt charged, like the moment before a lightning strike. An invisible resistance pushed my fingers apart, but Hellion held them, watching them tremble in the empty air. Burning pain shot through my hands and I opened my mouth to cry out, but stopped myself when I saw the bright blue sparks dancing on my fingertips.
I was just about to ask how that was possible when the tent flap moved aside a moment later and Cian charged in, eyes red with rage.
Hellion immediately dropped my hands. The sparks fizzled and died.
“Nevahn, let me see you.” Cian rushed to stand in front of me, taking my face in his hands. “Gods, is it broken?”
“It’s not anything worse than I’ve had before,” I said, pulling away.
He cringed, probably thinking I meant the time he broke my nose.
“It’s fine, really,” I insisted.
“It’s not broken,” Hellion added.
“Nisang overstepped. Gravely. He and I have been friends for a very long time but this… I know he thinks he’s protecting me, but a cage is not protection. Shackles are not freedom. He would have me in both if he thought I could direct the war from in there.” Cian stalked to the other side of the tent and dug out three glasses and a bottle of something I hoped was a strong spirit.
“Will he live?” I asked. “The Skaag Nisang stabbed.”
Hellion lifted an eyebrow. “He stabbed a Skaag?”
“Long story.” I pushed up from the chair and forced myself not to wince.
