Page 23 of Shade of Ruin

Quick. I need an answer that doesn’t sound stupid. “My head’s sticky.” Wow. Now that’s a very special kind of terrible.

There’s a pause, and I can hear Cole slowly splashing his way toward the bank. The image of his muscles pulling himthrough the clear water and getting his pants on is nearly as embarrassing as what I’d watched.

“Your head is sticky? That has to be the worst lie I’ve ever heard, and I’ve lived for almost eight hundred years.” My face is as red as the burn across his back from the blood rushing to my cheeks.

“I’m done here,” he says after a moment. “You probably want to wash more than your head, though. We’re going to meet a few friends of mine in the next few days. If we don’t make much progress today, I’m not worried.”

He walks past me, his shirt still off and his pants wet, and I can’t stop staring at him.

This is not the morning I’d expected.

I stand under an ancient oak tree quite a distance away from Cole, who’s fast asleep, and I slip the ring off my finger. It’s like I’ve uncorked the storm inside me. The feeling is almost natural at this point, yet I know it’s still very dangerous. It’s like unsheathing a knife when you still have no idea how to use it.

I need to practice. If I don’t become stronger, I’m going to end up dying or at least failing. The world I’m in has no room for weakness, and while Cole is keeping me safe right now, I can’t expect him to forever.

I take a deep breath and start trying to push the power out of my hands again. The shadows flow, but just like every night, they’re barely flickers that appear and die in moments. Something is holding them back. I know it. Just like I’d knownthat I should have been able to do magic when I was sparring with Cole.

Anger starts to build, and I can feel that storm moving inside me faster. When I try to force it to turn into shadows, there’s even more resistance than when I was calm and collected. Shadows barely appear, a single flicker, and then several moments of nothing before the next wells up in my palm for a half-second before disappearing.

I’m only getting more and more angry as I struggle. How am I supposed to practice magic if it doesn’t work regardless of how much effort I put in? Something is wrong. I’ve been working myself to exhaustion every night for almost three weeks, and it’s not getting any easier.

I try to calm down and remember Vesta’s teachings. She would have known how to do this, and she was trying to prepare me. What hidden lessons did she teach me that I didn’t understand?

From my first memory until the day I turned seventeen, she was with me constantly, as much a guard as a tutor. Those sharp eyes that seemed to take in everything were always on me. I remember knowing that she was watching, even while I spent time with my father. I might not have known where she was, but I knew she was there.

We spent so much time together, more than I’ve spent with anyone else, and yet, I can’t remember nearly enough about what she taught me. She didn’t explain how to do magic, though. Well, not anything beyond how to keep my emotions in check… something I’ve failed at continuously since I left Blackgrove.

There’s a connection between emotions and my magic because the only time I’ve really used it successfully was when I was furious at Hazel. Now, no matter how angry I get, it’s like the shadows refuse to appear.

I stare at my hand, focusing on the flickers of darkness, and only find more disappointment. I need to figure this out now.I know I’m running out of time, and I’m getting desperate. It’s probably time for my next lesson.

The process almost feels like a routine at this point. I close my eyes and imagine the Shade. The personification of shadow magic, he literally exudes shadows constantly. Strangely enough, when I imagine him, my stomach twists a little. Not because I’m afraid of him. No, this is something else entirely.

“Shade, I need your help with shadow magic.” I say the words as I envision the Fae. I canfeelthe words become magic as I say them. It’s the same feeling as creating the tiny flickers of shadows in my hand.

Moments pass, and just like every time, I worry he won’t come. My heart races as the seconds pass silently. What do I do if he doesn’t? Is there any other way to learn how to do this?

Then he’s here, and I feel like I can breathe easier. He’ll be able to help me, but there’s more to it than that. When I stared at Cole in the river today, I’d been unable to turn away. I’d been drawn to his naked body, and I feel the same when I look at the Shade. I can’t explain what the feeling is.

“You called,” he says in that soft but reverberating voice of his.

I turn around and look at him for a moment. He’s never changed—not the way he stands or walks or talks. Each of the three times I’ve called him, he’s looked exactly the same, but hefeelsdifferent this time.

“Something is keeping me from using shadow magic. I can feel the power inside me trying to escape, but every time I try to create shadows like you explained, I have to work so hard to make them appear. I feel like I’m shoving a piece of wood through a hole that’s too small for it. If I push hard enough, it goes through, but if I only had a bigger hole, it’d be so much easier.”

The Shade doesn’t respond as he steps closer to me. The cloak around him sways in the breeze, and I would swear that he’ssmiling under the hood. “You have a lot of anger inside you,” he says slowly. “Anger and shadows do not work well together. You have to…”

For the first time, he pauses, almost hesitating. I wait for him to finish. “Maeve Arden, I can show you how to use shadow magic, but you will need to trust me. Will you do that?”

A question that no one should answer with a “yes”. I know that everything he does is an effort to gain debts he’ll use for his own purposes. He doesn’t care about me or anyone else. The Shade is not someone I can trust.

But when I look into those shadows, I feel like I can trust him completely—even more than Vesta or Hazel. There’s no way to explain it.

“Yes,” I whisper.

He nods. “Then close your eyes, Maeve. Don’t open them until I tell you. Do exactly as I say, and nothing else, or there will be…consequences.” The way he says that last word sends a tingle running down my spine. I don’t even want to know what he means by consequences.

My heart is racing as I swallow hard, but I close my eyes, regardless. “Hold out one hand, palm up,” he says. “Just as you have been, push the shadows out of it. Feel your power flowing through your hand and becoming shadows. Focus on that as much as possible.”

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