Page 58 of Of Blood and Banes
He looks up at the sky before squeezing his eyes shut. The downpour splatters against his face, rivers of water streaming down his cheeks. “I’ll be able to stop the rain…” he turns to look at me, tears slipping from his eyes, “…before I can stop loving you.”
My heart crumples with the tormented gentleness of his gaze. Gods, how much easier it would be if he stopped looking at me like that. If he stopped these confessions. It’s only making things harder. Painful.
He clears his throat. “I’m sorry…I don’t know how to fix this thing between us…” He sweeps the strands out of his face as he rakes his fingers through the crown of his head.
He glances over to me, hesitant. “I really am sorry, Katerina Blackwind. For everything.” He presses a quick kiss to my forehead, then leaves.
“Again,” Marge barks.
Groaning, I lift my head up to look her in the eyes and squint through the soft rain. “It’s not working.”
Every inch of my clothes clings to my frame, hanging on me like a cold, wet blanket. I can’t fight against the shivering or chattering of my teeth, and seeing how unbothered Marge is grows my frustration. We’ve been out here for hours in the middle of the night. When I mentioned practicing in something a little more sheltered like her room, she shut me down, claiming I wasn’t quite experienced enough to pull that far away from the ley lines. And right here, near the river, is where the magic is strongest.
“You’re not trying hard enough,” Marge retorts.
“Are you trying to piss me off?”
She splays an open hand to her side and sweeps it around the forest surrounding us. “If that’s what it’s going to take.”
I hang my head, far too exhausted to argue or fight with her. Every time I’ve pressed my palms to the earth, I’ve tried again and again to pull magic toward me. But it’s like trying to pluck a single, specific strand of hair from a horse’s tail. As it’s fucking running away from me.
My breath saws in and out of my parted mouth, clouding with the cold, wet winter air. “I’m done.”
“No, you’re not.”
That gains her another glare.
She has the unwavering confidence to stare back and taps the end of her staff underneath my chin until I’ve stretched my head back as far as it’ll go. “Close your eyes. Focus on shutting out your vision first.”
Rain smatters against my face, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Next, center your breathing. Count to ten if you have to, but slow your heart rate.”
I shake my head with my eyes still closed. “This is stupid.”
She smacks the side of my arm with her staff.
“Ouch!” I hiss but take her warning and still myself. With my eyes closed, I follow the ins and outs of my breath until it slows down my racing frustration.
“Now…” she whispers, her voice lowering closer to me. “Close off what you’re feeling. Let the rain fall away, and the coldness seeping into your bones disappear.”
Bit by bit, I let go of the sensations crowding in for my attention. Gone is the frigid damp hugging every angle of my body. The sporadic pattern of rain on my face becomes nonexistent.
“Good…” Marge’s voice is only loud enough for me to discern from the hiss of rain on the forest floor. “Now focus everything onto that energy and pull it like you’re stitching. Take it slow, deliberate, and steady. You are the needle, and you make the path. The magic is your thread to make do with what you wish. Find the confidence in yourself.”
Nodding slowly, her voice and the sounds of the rain fade away and are replaced by a calm, harmonious humming. I sag my head and shift my weight back into my hips until I’m sitting on my folded knees. Spreading my fingers wider to call it to me, I gradually drag my hands across the wet earth to me, inch by slow inch.
Something heavy and magnetic underneath the surface moves with me, slipping a little more to my command the more intentional I am. As I pull my grip closer to my knees, I lift my stretched hands starting with my palms, waiting for the magic beneath to follow my lead. When it reluctantly does, I open my eyes and pull my fingers up off the ground by an inch.A soft, wisp of blue dances underneath my hand, completely independent of the rain and pools of water surrounding the tiny flame.
My chest heaves with each breath that passes as I hold the pulled magic, and as I glance up at Marge, the flame slips and disappears back into the earth. I let my head fall back with a frustrated sigh.
“Why were you looking at me?” Marge jabs. “I’m not going to flatter you. Especially not after it took you hours to do that.”
“Of course not,” I mumble.
“Because I know you can do better.”
I straighten and sweep my heavy, wet hair off my shoulder onto my back. “That was my better. That was in fact, my best.”
