Page 59 of Kingdom of Chaos
I look at Talon and the steady set of his jaw, the quiet certainty in his eyes, gives me the courage I need to take the next step.
He’s right. I can do this.
“All right,” I say. “Where do we start?”
Seventeen
“This is pointless.”
We’ve been trying to tap into my supposed magic for at least an hour, and none of Talon’s directions, suggestions, or instructions have worked. He explained different techniques to summon it, describing how to reach for the power inside me, but every time I follow his lead, I don’t feel so much as a flicker of magic, and with every passing minute I become more convinced he is wrong about me having powers.
“You’re not trying,” Talon accuses, and I glare at him.
“That’s not true. I’ve done everything you asked. Nothing’s working. I don’t feel anything.”
“It’s because you’re not letting yourself feel it,” Talon says. “You’re scared, so you’re standing in your own way.”
“I’m not scared!” I snap.
Talon presses his lips into a hard line but doesn’t argue. His gaze sharpens, calculating, and the look on his face makes my stomach tighten.
“Close your eyes,” he says.
“Why?”
The way he’s watching me makes me uneasy, and I take a step back.
“I want to try something,” he replies, stepping forward and reclaiming the space between us.
I narrow my eyes at him, suspicion prickling beneath my skin. As much as I want to trust Talon, too many half-truths and buried secrets still hang between us. Some part of me refuses to let my guard down completely.
“Please?” he asks, his voice quiet.
I let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. But if this doesn’t work, I’m going back. I might be able to squeeze in another hour or two of sleep before everyone wakes up.”
Reluctantly, I close my eyes, just like he asked, and wait for whatever it is he plans to do.
Seconds tick by in silence.
He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.
I start to shift, about to ask what’s going on, when his deep voice finally washes over me.
“I want you to take it all in,” he says, his voice a smooth rumble just to the side of me. Not close enough for me to feel his breath, but near enough that I could reach out and touch him. It makes me feel exposed in a way I don’t entirely hate, and that’s confusing.
“What do you hear? Feel? Smell?”
I want to roll my eyes and call this stupid, but I tamp down the instinct to push back, and force myself to try.
Drawing in a slow breath of muggy air, I wrinkle my nose at the scent of stagnant swamp water and damp cypress trees. Frogs croak in the distance, and a soft breeze stirs the trees around us.
“Anchor yourself to the ground. Know that it’s solid and will support you. Imagine roots growing from the soles of your feet and tunneling into the soil beneath you, securing you in place.”
I don’t know where he’s going with this or how it could possibly be helping, but I obey him and imagine roots.
“Know that you are safe, and strong.”
The words strike a tender place inside me.
