Page 124 of What Blooms from Death

Probably both of us.

Utilizing every ounce of restraint I possessed, I planted a chaste kiss on her cheek and whispered, “Good night, Nova.”

A swirl of emotions crossed her face—frustration, disappointment, hints of regret. But, as she was so skilled at doing, she quickly slipped a cheerful mask on, covering every trace of whatever true feelings she might have been experiencing.

“Good night, Aleks.” She disappeared into her room without a backwards glance.

I stood like a fool outside of her closed door for far too long before I managed to make myself walk away.

Chapter Thirty-One

Nova

I couldn’t stop thinkingabout last night.

I hated Aleksander for invading my thoughts so thoroughly. I wanted him out of my head. Wanted to be able to focus on my magic, alone, to pretend nothing had happened between me and him, to never think about his smirking face; or his bare, sculpted abdomen; or his stupid, beautiful laugh ever,everagain.

And yet, Ialsohated that he hadn’t been beside me when I woke up.

The conflicting emotions had been waging a war through me all morning long. My head ached. My stomach twisted. My steps had grown increasingly clumsy as the hours went on.

“You seem distracted, Highness.”

Stop calling me that,I almost snarled.

But I bit my tongue, knowing it would do no good; the young man before me insisted on referring to me as his queen, even though I’d yet to officially pick up the crown of this kingdom.

Eamon Ashmore was his name, and he was the older brother of Red. He was a talented magic user—even more-so than Thalia. We’d spent the past several mornings together, and the time hadbeen surprisingly pleasant in spite of the challenging trainings; his positive demeanor was a refreshing change from Thalia’s near-permanent scowl.

“I’m fine,” I assured him, attempting to smooth some of the sharpness from my tone. He wasn’t the one I was truly frustrated with, after all. “Let’s go again. I need as much practice as I can get at this.”

We were focusing on the same thing we’d been focused on every morning before this one: On more precisely forming, and better controlling, the shadows within me.

Shadows that I’d cursed and feared for most of my life. Shadows that were made of the very same kind of power and energy that made up this twilight world I was allegedly meant to save. I was Noctaris. Noctaris was me. This was what it meant to be one of the Vaelora. And my potential power was as vast as the world itself—

Or so Eamon claimed, anyway.

As for him, he was similar to Thalia in his abilities: able to pull from and manipulate existing magical energies, but not conjure anything into existence. One of thefeyth—beings who were apparently a step below the Aetherkin like Orin, power-wise. The termnecromancer, I had learned,was a collective one that encompassed all these different tiers of beings who could in some way channel the dark energies of Noctaris.

The luxmancers were on the opposite side of the spectrum, able to forge Light magic from the energy of Soltaris. They had different levels of beings as well, but I still couldn’t figure out precisely where Aleks fell on this ladder. How he was able to conjure up such powerful magic, despite being in this world where there was so little of its aligned energy to work with. Or how—

No.

No, it didn’t matter; I wasn’t thinking about him right now. I had magic of my own to worry about.

I drew my shoulders back and fixed Eamon with a determined look.

“Again,” he agreed with his good-natured smile. “As you wish.”

It was deceptive—that smile of his—given the amount of power and dangerous skill hiding within his lanky frame. He could pull shadows from nearly everything around him, it seemed, and control them with an astounding amount of precision and force. During our first training session, I’d been entirely caught off guard by his youthful, easygoing appearance—and had promptly gotten knocked on my ass, over and over again, because of it.

I set my stance, determined not to let that happen again.

Closing my eyes, I continued to inhale and exhale as calmly as I could while picturing the darkness flowing through my veins. Trying not to fear that darkness, but to give shape to it. To call upon it.

When I opened my eyes, multiple shadowy ropes twisted around me like serpents ready to do my bidding. Already, I had made some progress during these sessions—the threads of my shadows didn’t lash out quite as wildly as they once had, even here in this space where Calista’s lingering magic fed into their power.

I took another deep breath.

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