Page 35 of Steeling Light
Flames ignite around my body, immediately catching the gold-embroidered tunic I’m wearing on fire. Pain sears through my hands, but pain is nothing new. I hold the emotion as flames wreath my body, melting the gold thread and burning the velvet. I reach my hand out and feel the joy extending from my fingertips. The flames move along my arms and explode from my hand in a stream of fire that scorches the wall. Immediately, I let my joy fade, and I focus on the fact that I won’t be able to see Ainslee while I’m here—an empty sadness that rips at my heart.
The flames around me are snuffed out in an instant, and I turn to look at my generals. Their eyes are open wide, shock on each of their faces. I smirk, and when I try to walk back toward the table, rippling pain rolls through my shoulders and arms. It’s only then that I look down and see the tatters of what had been one of my favorite tunics falling to the ground. Around my arms and shoulders, melted gold has already solidified within the burns that cover my body, making me look like I ran into a golden spiderweb. Well… a burning, golden spiderweb.
I take a deep breath and visualize myself at the front of a battle, the Burning Brand in one hand and my sword in the other. I can see the faces of my enemies, all of them terrified, and pride ripples under my skin like a wave, wanting nothing more than to help me become that image. Powerful, unyielding, and undefeatable. The power of Steel desires to become the thing I need most, and I push it to the burns and melted gold thread. In an instant, my skin reforms—my wounds healed. The threads all pop at the same time with a sharp snapping sound before falling to the ground.
“I think that this will take some practice. In the meantime, someone go get me a new shirt, and we can start planning. There are two more relics to find, and you know my father will want us to move even faster in the hunt for those.”
Even though my generals are grinning from ear to ear, my heart only sinks lower. Ainslee will be on that eventual battlefield, and Cole won’t have a chance against my father now.
Chapter 18
Darian, I don’t think I’ve ever been so lonely. The days are hard, but the nights are harder. I wonder if you’re sitting and watching the moon with me as I write this letter. Do you remember all the nights we sat at the Firelight Café together? I miss those nights. They were simpler times.
P.S. Mother and I had coffee, and I didn’t run away. You should be proud of me.
~Ainslee Emlyn, Letters to Darian
Ainslee
The days drag on. A week with nothing to do, nothing to look forward to. I walk through the city listlessly and consider going back to Stormhaven just to see Darian, Cole, and Maeve again.
Tonight, I’m sitting on the wall of the Keep of Calm as I watch the moon rise. The two weeks I spent with Rhion had kept me distracted from thinking about Darian. The tie between twins is always stronger than that of other siblings, but we’ve never stretched that line taut before. Our lives have been interwoven since the day we were born.
Now, that line feels fragile. I’ve been gone for what feels like forever. There haven’t been any pranks. No stupid jokes or stories that barely even make sense. He hasn’t been here trying to convince me to do something Cole would be furious about.
There’s a silence in the evening air, even sitting above the City of Moonlight where everything happens once the sun goes down. The people below me mill about, but there’s a separation between us, and it only takes a few moments for me to realize why.
I don’t belong here. But do I really belong with Darian, Cole, and Maeve any longer? I’m not like Cole and Maeve, who are driven to do these incredible things. I’ve never been like them. I’m not even really like Darian. He may not be trying to win a war on his own, but he always has some plan, some desperate need to stand out.
That isn’t me. Thoughts of Cadence’s words echo in my mind.You, Ainslee Emlyn, must find your spark. You must breathe life into it, and you must push back the winds of turmoil that will try to snuff it out. You, and no other, must become the Light.
And my father’s.You’re nothing. You’re worthless. A girl whose only value is to be a whore like her mother.
Everything inside me seems at war. Memories of the past. Dreams. Losing the connection I have with Darian. Underneath it all is a desperate need to see Rhion again. He’s been gone for an entire week, and my heart aches. After those two kisses, there’s no doubt about how I feel about him.
Not even thoughts of Cole’s anger deter me from lingering on thoughts of those kisses. Never before have I ever felt so alive. I’ve never shone so brightly. The emotions that coursed through me unchecked feel impossible.
Even now, when I think about that kiss, a bit of light leaves my body, glowing in the twilight. I can’t stop it.
So, instead of pacing and thinking, I’m sitting. These thoughts and emotions may be at war with each other, but deep down, I know I can’t leave Selithar yet. I can’t leave until Rhion comes back. The way we left things was too unfinished.
I need to feel him again. Once we leave Selithar, I don’t know when I’ll be able to talk to him, much less feel his body and hands and lips against mine.
The moon rises over the horizon, and I wonder why it always feels so much larger here. The city begins its nightly glow, and yet, I stare at the silvered light of the moon and ignore the city that was created just for nights like these.
Tonight, it’s only me and the moon in my world. A cool breeze blows from the north, a hint of the winter that’s taking the rest of Nyth. The edges of my pants flutter in it, and it slides up my leg, making the hair on my legs tingle.
I barely feel it. Right now, I don’t know if I’d feel much of anything. I certainly don’t feel the spider crawl across the rampart, onto my pants, and into my pocket.
Chapter 19
A High Fae’s emotions control their powers. The inverse is true as well: their powers affect their emotions. A flame waker is explosive, and a shadow walker is aloof. These were known by the dragons. Vyran was aloof, and thus his House is, but what of the Lesser Houses? What do their powers push them towards? I do not believe even the dragons knew this.
~Erevan Morvyn, A History of Magic and Dragons
Ainslee
I stare into the eyes of the spider that has haunted my dreams for almost two weeks. They’re deep purple and pupil-less, all eight of them. Hairs the length of my arm cover its entire body. Its hooked fangs drip venom onto the ground in front of me, and I don’t flinch. It wouldn’t matter if I did, though. Webs ensnare me, holding my arms, legs, torso, and even head perfectly still in their unyielding grip.
