Page 49 of King of Flames and Shadows

“I amtrying.” I grind my teeth, struggling to hold the force back, to keep it from spilling out entirely. It only grows stronger, straining, pushing against me as though testing my will. I feel the earth tremble, and my heart races, a mixture of panic and defiance sparking within.

I grit my teeth, gathering my strength to wrestle the power back, and I catch Arvoren’s gaze, dark, intense, unyielding. His eyes lock onto mine, a silent reminder that he’s here, waiting to see if I fail. I resent him for it, for watching withthat veiled expectancy as if it’s his right to see me struggle, to test me.

“Stop staring and do something useful,” I snap, the power thrumming at the edge of my restraint.

He arches a brow, a mocking smile playing at his lips. “Perhaps if you focused less on me and more on the task at hand, you’d have better luck.”

My jaw tightens, and I wrestle the power back, redirecting it inward, trying to bottle it up again. But it fights me, and a pulse of energy escapes, jolting out in a flash of light that sends Darian stumbling back. Arvoren, however, stands unmoved, his gaze still locked on me, cool, unflinching.

“Again,” he orders, his voice soft, but it carries a hard edge that digs under my skin.

Heat flushes through me, this time from anger as much as from the magic.

“It’s not as if I can just decide to control it,” I snap, the power flaring out as I speak.

“Then stop fighting it,” he says, stepping closer, his voice low but intense. “Let it be what it is. Don’t restrict it; shape it.”

His closeness sends a shiver through me, a frustrating distraction that I try to ignore. But his words sink in, resonating with the part of me that longs to own this power, to make it my own. I close my eyes, taking another breath, this time reaching out to the magic without resistance. I allow it to flow through me, welcoming it, and the force steadies, a faint warmth pulsing through my veins, waiting for my lead.

Slowly, I open my eyes, catching a faint flicker of approval in Arvoren’s gaze, though he masks it quickly.

“A little better,” he says, his voice barely a murmur. “Now use it.”

The air between us crackles, heavy with anticipation. I feel my pulse quicken. I hold his gaze, a silent challenge rising between us. I want to prove him wrong, to show him that he’s not the only one who can command this force.

I lift a hand, feeling the magic swirl within me, and direct it outward in a steady stream, letting it spread through the circle. A faint light pulses around us, casting a cold glow on Arvoren’s face, illuminating the sharp angles of his features, the dark intensity of his eyes. There’s a thrill in seeing it work, a strange power in knowing he’s watching, that he’s witnessing my control.

But he steps forward again, closer than I expect, his gaze narrowing as he reaches out and touches my hand. The contact is sudden, electric, and the magic wavers, a surge of energy slipping through me in response.

“Hold it,” he says, his voice low and rough.

I fight to steady the power, to channel it without losing control. His hand lingers on mine, strong, warm, grounding, yet the pressure is more disorienting than comforting. I glance up, meeting his gaze, and find him watching me with a strange intensity that sends a pulse of heat through my already-frayed senses.

For a long moment, neither of us move, tension sparking between us like the faint glow of magic in the circle. I feel his breath, slow and measured, the weight of his hand pressing against mine. His gaze holds a question, unspoken yet clear, and I find myself unable to look away, to break the strange connection forged in this silence.

Darian clears his throat behind us, and Arvoren drops his hand, stepping back, his expression unreadable.

“Good,” he says, his voice steady but colder now. “It’s a start. But you’ll need more than a few flickers of light to protect yourself.” He gestures to Darian, who steps forward, holding a small crystal vial filled with a dark, swirling liquid.

“This,” Darian says, holding the vial up so that it catches the light, “will temporarily enhance your connection to the magic. It can’t increase your power, just your connection to it. It will feel … overwhelming. But it is necessary if you’re to learn to wield it fully.”

I take the vial reluctantly, glancing from Darian to Arvoren, who nods with that same intensity. Refusing to allow myself to hesitate, I uncork the vial and tip it back, the liquid cool and smooth and tasting of nothing.

Within moments, a surge of power floods my senses, magnifying every pulse, every whisper of magic in the air around me.

The world sharpens, colors brighter, sounds clearer, and the magic within me roars to life, a force both exhilarating and terrifying.

The power surges up, threatening to tear free. But I hold on to it, drawing on every ounce of my strength. I close my eyes, feeling the magic swirl, each pulse of energy an echo of my heartbeat, and with a final, steadying breath, I let it flow outward, shaping it as I’ve seen Arvoren do, as he instructed.

A soft, shimmering light fills the courtyard, surrounding us. I hear Arvoren’s breath catch, a faint sound that brings a strange thrill. When I open my eyes, he’s watching me, his expression unreadable but intense, eyes sweeping over me, consuming me totally.

“Better,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost … admiring. “But don’t let it make you arrogant. Magic isn’t your ally yet.”

He takes a step closer still, his gaze locked on to mine as if daring me to push further. I can almost feel the heat of his body now. Part of me wants to meet his dare, to gamble, to confront him, to show him that I am more than he can possibly understand. But the power still roars within me, and I force myself to stay steady, to resist the challenge.

But as he steps back, his gaze lingering on me, I realize I’ve already crossed a threshold, one that has nothing to do with magic or kingdoms. And for the first time, I’m not sure which battle I’m fighting: the one against his power, or the one against my own undeniable, reckless pull toward him.

That night, I dream of my grandmother.

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