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He frowned at the pear, turning it over in his hand. “You didn’t get hurt earlier, did you? When…the lightning?” He gave me a sheepish glance, a slight twinge of color creeping into his cheeks.
I laughed. “Not at all. Besides, I enjoy a bit of pain personally.”
His pale cheeks flushed a brighter pink and he bit into the pear. “Is that going to happen to me every time now?”
“Unlikely, unless every time you come is that intense.” When he gave me a curious look, I continued. “Do you remember how I explained magic was a combination of power, will, and intent? The power you have is inherent. Now that it has emerged, it will always be there. Controlling it is a matter of willpower. You’ll need to be taught how to regulate your emotions to use it properly. A good orgasm is exactly the opposite. It is the complete loss of willpower. The ultimate surrender to the whims of the body expressed as pleasure. The more intense the pleasure, the less control you have, and the more magic may slip through. Think of will as the dam holding back the flood of magic within you. If your will falters, there will be cracks that allow it to get through.”
“But you don’t go throwing around shadows every time,” he said with a frown. “And Cian doesn’t do…whatever he does.”
I chuckled. “That’s less true than you know. Back to the dam metaphor, say the dam springs some leaks. You’re not without options so long as the problem is short-lived. You can choose to redirect the water, let some of it flow through, and direct it into another channel with intent. You can try to patch it, or you try to avoid making cracks altogether.”
“Now the metaphor is getting too complicated,” he mumbled and took a bite of the bread.
An idea occurred to me, and I smirked. “I could alwaysshowyou.”
He almost choked, coughing until I handed him a glass of water. “Gods, Hellion. I know my ass is amazing, but I need time to recover from that. I won’t be sitting right for days after you two rearranged my guts.”
“I don’t need to fuck you to show you,” I said, conjuring a tendril of shadow. I wove it through the world toward him and used it to turn his face toward me. “In fact, I don’t even need to touch you. I can make you come with nothing but magic.”
“I…” He blinked, eyes unfocused, for a moment before he shook his head and gave me a doubtful look. “Withjustmagic?”
“With my magic, yes,” I said. “Shadow Weaving is the ability to reshape reality. Anyone caught in the web of the spell sees only what I allow them to see. On the battlefield, I use it to weave people’s worst fears into reality, but here, I could use it to create a private oasis of pleasure.”
Nevahn sighed and pulled up a handful of grass, turning away. “Maybe another time.”
I frowned and put a hand on his shoulder. “What’s troubling you, Nevahn?”
He gripped his upper arm, refusing to look at me. “Everyone said not to ask about it, but that was before. And now that we’re in this courtship, it feels like I should know.”
“Know what?” Fabric rustled behind us as Cian ducked out of the tent half dressed. He came over to the table, rummaging around in search of food.
“About Ren,” Nevahn said simply.
Cian froze, his hand around an apple.
Nevahn rushed forward. “I know some of the story. I’ve been able to piece some of it together just listening to what people say. I know he was a prince from the Spiritlands, and the three of you were serious. I know that Iridyn killed him and that led to your falling out. But…”
I stood and went to Cian, putting a hand on his arm. Nevahn was right. We needed to talk about Ren, and it wasn’t going to be easy for Cian. It wasn’t going to be easy for either of us.
Cian closed his eyes before sinking to the ground. There was a long pause before he spoke. “What do you want to know?”
“Just whatever you want to tell. I know he was important to you and…” Nevahn glanced between us and shrugged. “I guess you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”
Tense silence followed. Cian probably didn’t know where to start. He liked to process his grief at the end of a sword, and we hadn’t killed nearly enough of Iridyn’s soldiers for him to make progress yet.
I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Prince Ren Lin was six feet tall, skinny as a beanstalk, and smart as a whip crack.”
Cian looked up at me in silence.
I dragged my hand over his shoulders as I passed. “He had short black hair, when he had it at all. Most of the time, he kept the sides of his head shaved and let it grow in like a horse’s mane. He liked to laugh and was incapable of taking anything seriously. He liked to gamble with dice, even though he was terrible at it. His two favorite hobbies, aside from fighting, fucking, and general chaos, were adopting stray animals that made poor pets, and giving everything ridiculous names. He would look at that rock and say to me, ‘Hel, you know what that rock looks like? It looks like the feather on a chicken’s ass. I’m going to call it chicken ass rock.”
Nevahn chuckled as I sat down next to him. “Sounds like he was a lot bigger than six feet tall.”
“He was bigger than his skin could contain,” I agreed.
A small smile touched Cian’s lips. “You remember that time he caught that tetramonitor?”
“Do I.” I snorted and rolled my eyes. “I told him its tail would grow back on its own. But would he listen? And then who had to patch him up when the damn thing tried to eat his finger?”
