Page 19 of Shade of Ruin

A scream rips from my mouth, but Cole just says, “Again.” Absolutely no empathy for my pain. No cause for concern. In fact, there’s a smile on his lips like he enjoys hurting me, and everything inside me wants to lash out at him. I swing again, making sure I keep my guard up. I push my hips to twist harder, to put more power into my swing.

He blocks it easily. I swing again, the ache in my left shoulder throbbing where he hit me. My stick hits his, and it’s like I’m hitting a brick wall, as if no amount of strength could ever break that defense.

That doesn’t change the fact that I keep trying. I push my hips to turn harder, and I swing as hard as I can with my arm, directing every ounce of power into his block. “You know,” he says without lowering his guard at all, “if you keep attacking with no control, you’re going to get hurt.”

That burning anger inside me wants to ignore everything he says and just hurt him. Just like when I tried to attack him in the inn. I know I should listen to him. That I should pay attention to his warning. If any other predator—even though they’re nowhere near as dangerous—had given me a warning growl, I’d have taken them seriously. Somehow, that anger inside me feels so alive, and I can’t stop it. Almost like I’m watching myself make the mistake, knowing it’s a mistake the entire time.

When I swing with every ounce of strength this time, he steps back, moving just out of reach of my strike, and I miss. Hard. I can’t stop the swing nearly fast enough. And Cole moves in, striking just as fast as ever. He swings at my shoulder hard enough that I drop my stick, my arm going nearly numb at the impact.

When he moves in to hit me with the other one, I block it. All that pent up anger moves inside me like a storm in a bottle thatfinally has an outlet. Just like I had missed and put myself off balance, his attack had been lazy since he hadn’t expected me to block it.

Now he’s too close and off balance, and I leap at him, getting through his defenses. My right hand goes to his throat, and that power inside me wants to lash out at him like it had at Hazel. Something stops it, though.

That tiny hesitation when nothing happens gives Cole the chance to drop his sticks and wrap his arms around me, putting me in a bear hug. My hand is on his neck, but it’s not like I can do anything to him without the magic that my instincts had told me I had access to.

I was sure that if I put my fingers on his neck, he would stop hurting me, but nothing happened.

Now I’m pressed against his chest. He’s breathing hard and staring down at me. His hands are hot. So hot that I’m sure that he has to stop himself from lighting me on fire. We’re inches away from each other, his breath moving over my face as he looks down at me. The scent of spiced amber is everywhere.

That storm that was raging inside me is still raging, but now, instead of wanting to hurt him, it wants… something different. “What in Sidon’s name was that?” he growls. “You made it through my defenses and dropped your sticks? What did you think you were going to do? Choke me? Really?”

I feel like I should say words. I don’t know what those words would be, but I’m sure that there are words I should say. My body knows what it wants to do, though.

The hand that’s still on his neck runs down his shoulder. The last time we were this close, he ran his nails over me. It’s my turn. I don’t know why I think that’s true, but that storm inside me says that it is.

He stares at me as my fingertips brush over his skin, feel the heat that billows off the tanned skin. Those cold blue eyes neverleave me as my fingertips drift lower. The anger that took control slowly changes. Instead of wanting to hurt him, all I want is to touch him. To feel him.

When my nails brush against the collar of his tunic, it shifts just enough that I see something surprising. Burn scars. Bright red and striated enough that they couldn’t be anything else.

I stop immediately. The shock forces the storm that’s raging inside me to quiet, and I pull away. The words come to me as I move to the sticks still on the ground. “I tried to use magic on you. It didn’t work.”

Cole’s eyes are still hard, still hiding every bit of emotion, unlike when he’s training me. He doesn’t hold me still when I try to pull away. Burn scars. How badly must he have been hurt to end up with scars like that? I was hurt badly enough in the Tilted Mug that if I’d been human, I’d be dead. I don’t have a single scar.

“Don’t try that. Shadow magic is… tricky. Especially for Wyrdlings. Everyone’s heard of the five-year-old that burns down their house with fire magic. No one hears about the child that uses shadow magic because they just disappear, never to be seen again. Until you have someone to teach you, don’t just try to use shadow magic, or it could be the last thing you ever do.”

“What other option is there? Even if I’m the greatest fighter with sticks,” I say as I hold up the two pieces of wood I’ve been swinging, “the first time someone throws a fireball at me, I’m dead. It’s as simple as that.”

Cole smiles and says, “You could always cover yourself in steel. Then, there are very few things that can hurt you other than weapons. See, steel absorbs magic. I can’t turn you to ash if you’re wearing steel. Sure, you won’t be able to use magic either, but you don’t know how to use it, anyway. Be a human that can fight like an Immortal, and you might survive.”

With a frown, I shake my head. I don’t like it. I really, really don’t like just ignoring something as important as me doing magic. Cole has used it constantly. It saved our lives when we dealt with the Nothing. No matter how much armor I wear or how good I am with a sword, there are things in this new world I’m in that require magic to deal with.

“Maybe when we’re in Draenyth, we can find you a teacher.” He says it so dismissively. Like it doesn’t matter at all.

I drop the sticks in response and say, “I think I’m done for the night.” Then, in a perfect imitation of Cole, I sit down on the log by the fire and stare into it. I already know how I’m going to deal with this, and it isn’t to beg Cole to teach me.

No, he said that I needed a teacher, and I know one person who is guaranteed to say yes. You don’t ask a blacksmith to make you a pair of shoes, and I certainly won’t beg someone from the House of Flame to teach me shadow magic.

The fire is low when I finally decide to leave my bedroll. Making as little noise as possible, I walk away from the camp. Instinctually, I make mental notes of how to get back.

The moon is almost three-quarters full, and it’s not hard to see tonight. Everything has a hint of silver to it, and I climb a tall tree to find the nearest clearing so that we’ll have more light. As soon as I’m above the tree line and bathed in the moonlight, I glance back at the clearing that Cole is still sleeping in.

Part of me thinks this is a terrible decision, but I rub the mark on my wrist. I need to learn to use my shadow magic. It’s not a want. It’s a necessity. This entire new world that I’m living in isfull of magic. Harpies that can knock my spear away. Mists that try to kill you. Then there’s Cole, who can do just about anything. I don’t even want to know what kind of magical chaos I’m going to walk into when I get to Draenyth.

There’s no getting out of the fact that I need to be stronger. I need to train with Cole to fight, and I can practice magic with the Shade. If he’ll let me.

But the debts I’ll end up owing him… What does that matter, though? If I’m too weak to survive, what’s the point of not collecting debts?

A very dark shiver runs through me at the thought of seeing the Shade again. Seeing him made me feel something different. I’d say that it was an attraction, but there’s no way to be attracted to shadows under a cloak. I was drawn to him, just as I was drawn to Cole, but this felt almost familiar. Like I’d known the Shade for years and had simply forgotten him.

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