Page 25 of Too Dangerous To Die

Nothing butash and broken stonewhere there was once something ancient.The last remnants of my power still crackle in the air, a whisper of silver-light fading into the emptiness.

I stare at the devastationI caused.

And I feel nothing.

No horror or guilt. Not even relief.

Only the lingeringachein my bones, the slow pulse of power still curling at my fingertips, waiting to be called again.Like a beast awakened.

I swallow against the tightness in my throat, flexing my hands, watching as the last traces of magicdimfrom my skin.

It was too easy.

I shouldn’t feel this way. Magic was never meant to be a weapon in my hands.I was a healer.I had spent my life mending wounds, easing pain, bringing people back from the brink.

But now, I know what it feels like tobreak instead of mend.

I take a slow step back, my boots scraping against blackened earth. The air is heavy, thick with theaftermath of power, but there is something else beneath it—somethingwatching.

I glance at Rhaegar.

He stands at the ruined valley,unmoving, unreadable.The wind tugs at his wings, pulling at the flickering shadows that still coil around him. His golden eyesburn, locked onto me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

He doesn’t speak.

But he doesn’t have to.

I cansee it.

The way his gaze lingers. The way his fingers twitch at his sides, as if resisting the urge toreach for me.

He felt it too.

I turn away. I don’t want to look at him, don’t want to see whatever dark realization is lurking behind thosemolten eyes.

If I do, I might have to face the truththat terrifies me the most.

That I liked what I did.

That I want to do it again.

I can’t sleep.

The fire crackles between us, itsweak, flickering glow barely reaching the edges of the ruined camp.The air is still heavy with magic, the ground beneath my bedrollcold and restless, like the land itself is trying to whisper something.

Rhaegar hasn’t spoken since we set up camp.

He sits just beyond the fire, half in shadow, hismassive form still and watchful.

I can feel him even without looking.

The bond thrums between us, a pulse of somethingtoo tight, too demanding.

I clutch my chest, willing it to still.

The magic in my veins is stilltoo loud, too awake.

I close my eyes, forcing my breath to slow, trying to push the strange sensation away and thedream takes me.

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