Page 89 of To Bleed A Kingdom

“Dick,” Tristan grumbles, returning to his feet along with Amara.

Zander shrugs and walks away, the rest of us following behind.

“You can't use your Gifts here,” Tristan chides Zander, falling behind to walk beside me. “Your fire is too different from theirs.”

“Oh, I've noticed,” Zander replies in a huff. “It's awful not being able to use them. It's like I'm missing a part of myself.”

“You get used to it,” Amara says bitterly, walking at his side.

He squirms as if his skin’s stretched taut. “But my animal is getting anxious. It wants out.”

“Zander,” I warn, boring a hole into his broad back.

“I know, I know.” Glancing at me over his shoulder, he rolls his eyes. “Don't worry. I won't let him out, but we're going to have to leave soon. I can't suppress him much longer, and you need a release, too.” Rolling his shoulders, Zander expels a frustrated groan as he rubs the back of his neck.

Amara, unable to stomach this gloomy side of him anymore than I can, distracts him with a yank on his bun. He yowls and bats at her hands, which Amara quickly reciprocates. Zander narrows his eyes on her and she instantly mirrors his look. A split second later, they reach for each other in unison and begin slapping at each other's hands.

They look like two little girls fighting over a doll.

“I'm just waiting for them to start pulling each other's hair,” Tristan says and we both laugh.

Ignoring their slapping sounds, Tristan peeks at me out of the corner of his eye. “I've been watching you, you know?”

I do know, but I was hoping if I pretended I wasn’t aware, he’d skip whatever lecture he’s no doubt about to issue.

“Stalker,” I tease, nudging my shoulder with his in a last-ditch effort to avoid the inevitable.

Tristan rolls his eyes. “As I was saying, I've been watching you. You’re having difficulties containing your power, aren’t you?”

I stiffen. “I wouldn't say that.”

Disbelieving, he quirks a brow. “You wouldn't, huh? Then why are you freezing when you’re attacked, or losing control in an empty tavern?” Unable to come up with a suitable explanation, I remain silent.“If you can't explain that, then why are you eating triple what you normally would? Why are you half dead from exhaustion before the sun descends?” He shakes his head. “You may not want to admit it, but I will. You’re expending an inordinate amount of energy trying to control your Gift, and you’re still unable to manage it. Why is that?”

No answer forthcoming, he hesitates before releasing a long-winded sigh. Regret lines his face as he says in a gentle, yet hard tone, “You lost control before and the aftermath was catastrophic. We can't allow that to happen again.”

“I know that,” I snap, feeling anger and a pinch of hurt that he would make the comparison.

He scrubs agitated hands through his hair. “Then tell me what's wrong. Maybe I can help.”

“I…” Hesitating for a moment longer, I puff out my cheeks and blow out a raspberry. “I think it has to do with Darius. How I…” I bite my tongue, hating to admit this but knowing I must. “How I feel for him.”

“And how he feels for you,” he replies, unsurprised.

“Yes,” I mumble, staring down at my feet.

Cocking his head to the side, Tristan’s brows furrow. “Is this surprising to you?”

I huff a bitter laugh. “It’s not to you?”

“Your emotions are tied to your Gifts, so no, this isn't surprising.”

“So what do you think I should do?” I ask, brushing my hand over a leaf on a passing branch. “I can't keep going on like this. It’s dangerous.”

He smiles and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. “Maybe you should stop fighting it.”

“What?!” I squawk, jerking back, but he grips me tighter to him, holding me hostage. “You can’t be serious.” I would expect this kind of advice from Zander. Maybe Amara. But never would I imagine Tristan would propose such a thing.

“Shocking, I know.” Rubbing my arm, he smiles down at me. “Just try and listen for a moment.”

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