Page 103 of Anchor

Because in my fantasies, I was always afraid about what was going to happen. I always imagined I would be panicked, paranoid, terrified that somebody would find us. In my fantasies—because,of course,I can’t let myself have a normal fantasy where I get everything I want without needing to explain to myself how every little thing needed to work—I was constantly making up plans about how to escape and stay under the radar.

But in these moments I was free; no fear or panic or paranoia. Just free to breathe and be with Taland, free to pay every ounce of my attention to him only, and I couldn’t care less about what happened to the world outside. I was in my place now, my home. Nothing could get to me here.

“So, you’re really Mud, too,” I said after a little while, as more sparks gathered over us as if they knew I wanted to see him better.

“I think I preferLaetus,but yes,” Taland said, playing with my hair. “It would seem so.”

“Laetus.” I tasted the word on my tongue; I preferred it over Mud, too.

“Selem teaches us that they were these legendary soldiers, these incredible mages—like superheroes of the real world. Funny because I wanted to be just like them when I was a kid, but they told us that the Laetus in their true form, capable of controlling colorful magic, were extinct,” said Taland, and I kissed his chest.

“Was that a lie, or they simply didn’t know?” I wondered.

“I think it’s both that they didn’t know, and that itcouldn’tbe done before. I think that because you drained the Rainbow, you were able to access all your colors like that. And then somehow, maybe because you did the draining spell withmymagic, or maybe…” his voice trailed off as he thought about it but couldn’t find an answer. “Somehow, you passed it on to me.”

“Whatever happened at the Drainage, I’m glad for it. Whatever it was.” I would be thankful forever. “But Taland, I don’t think it’s true that it couldn’t be done before, because Taylor did it before me.” And the image of her sitting there on that branch was right there in my mind’s eye. How she’d repeated the spell after me. How I’d corrected the words she’d gotten wrong. How she’d been terrified when colorful magic had burst out of her hand.

“You shared your magic with her—it has to bethat.Or…maybe she’s different somehow?” he wondered.

“I don’t know if she’s different—she’s literally the first Mud I ever met. And she’s just fourteen, Taland. I’m still glad I did it, but I keep thinking about it—even if I did share my magic with her, she shouldn’t have been able to do a spell without any effort.”

“I don’t think she would have if it wasn’t for the bracelet,” he said.

I looked at it where he’d left it on the small bedside table near an ashtray and his raven feather.

For a while, I was silent, only shaking my head every now and again. “I don’t know,” I finally said.

“I have to talk to my brothers.”

“No.” The word slipped out of me automatically—I didnotwant to see his brothers again. Goddess, I never wanted to have to look at their faces until the day I died.

“Sweetness, they’re not going to hurt you again. Nobody will.” He raised my head to kiss my lips. “And it’s not just because ofme—but with that bracelet? Nobody could compare.” He chuckled like he found that funny.

It wasn’t to me. Even though I felt no pain when using that bracelet, it was not my anchor—my father’s ring was. The ring that was around my finger, that I had to hold up with a thumb almost the whole time because it was too big and it slipped, andI refused to let a jeweler make it smaller. I refused to change it in any way.

It felt wrong not to use it when it was the only anchor I knew. Redfires and Whitefires could use the same anchor all their lives, while the rest of the covens didn’t. Blackfires needed to replace their raven feathers every couple of months, depending on their strength, and Greenfires could make their staffs last for years. For me, to change my anchor when I’d been using it for only two years just felt wrong.

“It’s just pretty colors. It doesn’t mean anything,” I said to Taland. “Right?”

“Oh, I think it does. It’s way more powerful than my Blackfire used to be. Even without it, even when it hurts, my magic has become stronger since the Iris Roe, but this?” He waved his finger around to indicate the sparks floating around us still. “Thisis something else. I haven’t even had to think about keeping up their energy levels after my initial intent to make them last for hours. Not once.”

“But we don’t really need to talk to your brothers, do we?” Because even knowing that I had that bracelet, or that it would make my magic more powerful—which I’dkind ofnoticed when I used it in my room two nights ago—I still felt uneasy. To have to look them in the eyes after everything…

“You don’t have to be there if you don’t want to, sweetness. But I do need to talk to them about Hill. And tell them about this bracelet. About the book in your grandmother’s office.”

My stomach fell all the way and my muscles locked in tightly.

Taland raised my head. “Unless you don’t want me to,” he added. “If you don’t, just say so. Nobody has to know a thing—except for Hill. That, I would reallylike to talk to them about.”

I pulled myself up and kissed him. “It’s not that,” I whispered. “I justreallydon’t want to talk to anybody. I justwant to stay here in this house forever. Can we do that?” I kissed him again. “Can we stay here forever?”

He kissed me back, but there was something about it. Something…off. I couldn’t really put my finger on it, and maybe it was my own bad feelings projecting onto him, but it wasn’t the same kiss as all the other times.

“What’s wrong?” I asked anyway, just in case.

“Wecan’tstay here forever,” Taland said with a sigh. And I was a bit relieved that it wasthatand nothing else. “I wish we could, but we can’t.” He squeezed me to his chest tightly, closed his eyes and rested his forehead to mine. “We have to leave eventually. The more we stay, the faster the wards will be consumed. Our magic will interfere with theirs and they won’t work. We have another week at best.” Leaning back again, he closed his hand around my cheek.

“Another week—that’s how long we can stay here safely. Do you understand?”

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