Page 36 of A Petal in the Crown

“I know you don't want to kill anyone,” Thomas said, obviously trying to keep his tone as understanding as possible. “I don't want that for you either. Hopefully, you’ll never even have to use this dagger. This is just preparing for the worst-case scenario.”

Emma shook her head. Agreeing to Thomas’s lessons had been a mistake. She’d known she wouldn’t kill, but she’d wanted so badly to give him some relief from his worry. “Thisisthe worst-case scenario for me. Killing someone and then having to watch their soul realize they're dead. ThatIkilled them.” She cringed at the thought.

Thomas reached up as if to push her curly black hair behind her ears—to tilt her head back and force her to look in his eyes instead of over his shoulder or at the ceiling. But he held himself back, and Emma was grateful. She was on edge enough already.

“Why don't we take a break,” he suggested instead, holding out his hand. Emma's face softened, her shoulders falling in relief.

“A walk, maybe?” she asked, only hesitating for a moment before taking his hand.

“Of course.” Thomas smiled warmly, leading Emma out of the room and past the blood red tapestries lining the hall. She didn’t miss the way his eyes stalled on the third one on the right, behind which a door was hidden to the small secret room Thomas had met Vincent in several times when he’d first learned of the Eclipsed King and his plans. He’d told her all about it once they’d fled Auropera—about how he’d come to join the rebellion. Emma could feel the visceral reaction rising within him, the memory of the excitement and thrill he’d felt when he learned there was a way to fight back against the Black King and had decided to join those planning it.

Even with so many memories tying them there, and even though it had been her home her entire life, it was strange being back in the castle. Stranger to see Thomas openly creating weapons for the rebellion instead of sneaking around dark passageways and having meetings in the middle of the night.

So much had changed. There was no more sneaking. No more secrets. Here they were in the middle of the day, hand in hand, walking through the Black King’s castle after training to defeat Alaric. It was progress.

And there was no longer a need to hide. Brennus was dead. And Alaric, wherever he was, already knew they’d be coming for him.

They stepped through the main entrance of the castle into the courtyard, the large doors wide open, and she felt the way Thomas's heart sank as his feet touched the dark grass outside. He had to have expected it, of course, but the pitch black of night during what should have been the middle of the day was startling all the same. How long had it been since they'd seen the sun? Had it really only been just over a week?

“I don't mind the eternal night,” Emma said, wondering if it ever bothered him that she could read his emotions so well, it was as if she was reading his mind. “It's calming, I think. Seeing the stars when I wake, hearing the frogs croaking throughout the day.”

Thomas looked down at her intently, assessing her face. He was always looking at her. Sneaking glances every chance he could, as ifshewas the sunrise they were all waiting for.

“I miss the sun. But I don't mind its absence quite so much when I'm walking under the stars with you,” Thomas said, squeezing her hand. Emma blushed, her cheeks turning a deep red that was visible even in the black of night. She didn't answer. She couldn’t.

She was fully aware Thomas longed to know what was going through her mind, and once again, she couldn’t blame him. He’d been more than open about his feelings for her. Always a gentleman. Always honest. But as good as Emma was at empathizing with other people's emotions, she seemed to struggle with expressing her own.

Thomas didn't press her, though, in tune with her emotions enough that he sensed her need for silence. And Emma was glad he could becontent with just being here with her, both of them safe and alive and well.

They continued on, the soft, squishy grass springy beneath their shoes as they headed toward town.

“I don't always hate my gift, you know,” Emma finally broke the silence. Thomas’s eyes widened, his eyebrows raising. “I'm starting to appreciate it. Even when it’s hard.” She ducked her head, her hair falling from behind her ear. Thomas’s fingers wiggled as if wanting to push it back, but his hand remained at his side. “I've always felt different. But having this gift? It confirms it, I guess. That I was different.Amdifferent. Not just weird or quiet or shy.”

Thomas stayed silent, allowing her to get the feelings off her chest, but Emma could tell he was holding back his reassurances. That her ever feeling those things hurt him.

“It's difficult. Painful sometimes, even,” Emma continued. “But helping people get closure? I kind of like that part of it. If I were to lose someone I loved, I’d want that closure. Wouldn't you?”

Thomas pressed his lips into a thin, grim line, pulling her to a stop. He finally lifted his hand and tucked her hair back behind her ear, and Emma felt the tingle all the way in her toes.

“I think what you can do is a gift to those families. But it's not one I hope you'll ever have to use for me. For any of us.”

Emma’s answering smile was sad. “I wish I'd never have to use it again. But if people have to die, then I will try to view my gift as a way to help.Thatis my role in this war, Thomas. It's not killing. Even to defend myself. I can't do it. I don't know if it's my magic stopping me from taking that killing blow, or if I'm not supposed to cause death but connect with it in a different way…” She rubbed her forehead. “I don't know what it is. I don't want you to be disappointed in me, but I won't be able to take a life, even ifyou train me every day until the final battle comes. It's not who I am.”

This level of honesty was terrifying for Emma, and she tried to block out the disappointment in Thomas’s eyes she knew would follow her words, but they never came. He tilted her head up to meet his gaze, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

“I hear you, and I’m sorry. I just—” He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to worry about fighting. I'll fight for you,” he said, never breaking eye contact. Emma’s mouth popped open, and she sucked in a deep breath, ready to argue, but he continued. “If you don't think you can defend yourself, I will. With my own body if I have to.”

“That’s not— Why would you do that?” Emma's voice was breathless, her pupils dilating as he leaned closer.

“I care about you. You know that. All this time we're spending together? It's not just—” The ringing of a bell from the castle tower sounded, interrupting his confession.

“Fire!” a guard shouted from somewhere behind them, and Thomas swung his head toward the castle where a faint orange glow was spreading inside the courtyard. Emma’s stomach dropped, guilt gnawing in her chest at the fact that she was more disappointed that he hadn’t leaned in to kiss her than the fact that there was a fire that needed to be contained.

“Fire!” The warning sounded again, but this time as she looked up toward the courtyard, it made Emma’s blood run cold. The fire was too bright, spreading too fast. As the bright orange and white flames danced toward the sky, it was clear that this wasn't just any fire. The way it was spreading. The height. The color. It was unnatural.

Emma didn't know how it was possible in the dead of night, but this was day magic. The strongest she had ever seen.

Chapter 23

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