Page 159 of Of Blood and Banes
But the silence is deafening.
My hope seeps out of me, like blood from a wound, as I whisper, “Why don’t you want to see me?”
The same words she told me all those nights ago in the forest, echo inside of my head.
Magic like this is old, ancient, and dark. Many of the spirits are well aware of the temptation to revive an at-peace spirit. Especially when it’s someone you love. So rather than showing themselves, they avoid contact entirely.
I bite my lip, nodding as the realization washes over me. She won’t show herself to me. Not when she knows how tempted I’ll be to possibly bring her back. I swallow the tension building in my throat but hang on to that small kernel of peace.
She knows I love her.
When I slip back out of The White and return to my senses, I snap open my eyes. Even if I was so desperate to speak to her one last time and didn’t get that chance, I can already anticipate what she’d want me to do next.
I press my fingers down through the thin layer of snow to the earth while that hum rises around me, my hair billowing in a nonexistent breeze.
Come to me…I call out to it.Yield to me…
My vision blurs, and I lift my hand an inch off the ground, pulling small wisps of blue flames. The fog-like tendrils of blue waver, threatening to slip back into the ground. Gritting my teeth, I throw out my other hand to trap it, then raise both my arms to pull the flames higher.
Come to me…
I will not be shaken…
You will yield to me…
The flames shriek like a wild animal pinned in a cage. I lift them, pulling them until I’m standing, and they’re shoulder high. I sweep my hands left, dragging them with me, then slide my grip back to the right, breaking their hold on the ground. We become a dance—swaying back and forth as I gain more and more control, like reeling in a rope, until they completely surrender to me.
It’s the most I’ve ever been able to pull.
With a strangled scream, I slam them back into the ground, my breath shaking my shoulders. A new surge of emotions crashes over me, and I laugh as tears line my eyes. It’s a victory she would have been proud of.
Throwing back my head to stare up at the sky, snowflakes land on my skin. Just as I begin to close my eyes, I swear one of the stars in the night sky above me winks.
By the time I return to my room, the moon is at its highest peak. Enough snow has collected on the streets that my footsteps leave a trail. Silently, I slide into my room and take off my snow-dusted boots while trying to contain my chattering teeth.
Darian lifts his head to glance at me over his shoulder from his side of the bed, his brown hair a chaotic mess. He looks me up and down, not a lick of amusement in his face. “What were you doing?”
“Nothing that concerns you,” I whisper, and unclasp my cloak at my throat.
Surprisingly, he has not a single thing to say back. I welcome the silence, and as I hang my cloak up and run my hands down the material, I brush a bump near the pocket.
The painting of the allium.
My heart skips a beat, a warmth rising to my cheeks as I retract my hand and stare at the cloak. Slowly, I remove the rest of my clothing and change into my nightwear before slipping into bed next to Darian. His back is turned to me, and I pull the sheets over my chest.
“That painting you made for me…” I whisper, staring up at the dark ceiling as if the shadows will consume me before I embarrass myself. “Thank you.”
Silence.
Painful, long silence.
To the point where I’m convinced he’s either somehow already sleeping or ignoring me.
And then, “You’re welcome.”
The next morning, Gavin takes Darian to the Everden bathhouse, and I dress and head toward the main dining hall. As I approach the massive building with a drawbridge for an entrance, I catch a familiar dirty-blond man walking my way.
Archie pushes past me, eyes on the street with moisture collecting at their corners.
