Page 81 of Golden Star

The man steps toward me, his wings lifting behind him, the wind whistling through their dark feathers. “No water magic,” he says, as if he’s chiding a misbehaving kid. “Just like I thought.”

“No.” I glance at Zoey—who’s still frighteningly still—take a deep breath, and ground myself.

I can do this.

Reaching for my magic again, I connect with the water and coax it to glide up my skin.

My heart leaps as I watch it obey.

It’s working.

Feeling confident again, I guide the water to coil in my hand, lifting and twisting it like a living ribbon crawling up my arm. Finally, somehow staying focused through the man’s stare, I pool it into a floating sphere that pulses in sync with my heartbeat and sparkles as if it contains stars.

“See?” I meet his eyes and keep my voice steady, even as my breaths quicken. “I’m fae.”

“Impressive,” he drawls, but there’s no admiration in his tone.

Only calculation.

Then, without warning, he blasts wind straight at my chest.

I lose control over my magic and stumble back, miraculously catching myself instead of falling to the ground.

In seconds, I have my dagger in my hand, even though apart from shattering little ice dragons, I have no idea how to use it. Projection isn’t an option, since it’ll leave my real body vulnerable to his attacks. Which means I’m going to have to fight back with every bit of instinct and remaining magic I have inside myself.

He smirks and blasts wind at my dagger, knocking it out of my hand and sending it clattering to the ground. He’s holding water in his other hand, and it shapes into a spear that he shoots toward me, glistening and lethal as it flies toward me.

I drop at the last second, the spear slicing past so close I feel the cold burn on my cheek.

“What are you?” I ask between panicked breaths, barely dodging out of the way of another spear.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he summons another spear from the air and launches it at me.

He must really love those spears.

My muscles scream as I throw myself to the side, and the spear embeds into the earth where I stood, cracking through the frozen ground and turning back to water.

That was close.

Too close.

I gather more snow in my hand and reach for the spark of magic still inside of me, fingers twitching as I pull at the water, forcing it into a swirling shield in front of me.

He strides forward, his wings flexing as he closes the gap between us.

I brace myself for another attack.

But instead of attacking with another spear, he pauses, studying me with those hypnotizing dark eyes of his that send a strange wave of calm through my body. “What I am doesn’t matter,” he says, low and coaxing. “What matters is that you show me your truth. The one you’ve yet to discover.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

My arms shake, and the shield quivers. It’s flimsy—a hollow barrier that won’t last.

Seeing my weakness, he flicks his wrist, and more wind surges toward me, bursting my shield apart and driving me back.

This time, I fall to the ground with so much force that pain shoots through every bone in my body.

He raises his hand to blast me again.

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