Page 55 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
I looked down—and there it was.
Mage Hand.
It shimmered with faint energy, hovering just above my skin. Not summoned. Not called. Just there, reacting to the pull.
Shit.
Panic rose in my chest. I looked around quickly, making sure no one was there to see. The halls were empty, the only witness the ivy curling in from the garden windows.
“Hide,” I hissed in a breath, and the hand vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind a faint warmth against my fingers.
“Elara!”
I jumped.
Eryn’s voice cracked the moment like a whip, and I turned to see her jogging toward me, a light sheen of sweat already glistening on her arched brow. “There you are. I’ve been searching everywhere. You weren’t at breakfast.”
“I wasn’t hungry,” I muttered, brushing my hands on my hips and forcing my pulse to slow.
“Well, come,” she said, already turning. “Your magic won’t train itself.”
I looked down at my dress. Why did I put this on?
“I need to change first.”
“Nope,” Eryn said. “You dress like that you fight like that. Now, let’s go.” Her voice was stern, and I rolled my eyes at her, huffing in annoyance.
And just like that, the moment passed. The call, the voice, the iron doors—they had to wait.
I groaned under my breath but followed her through the now-familiar path beyond the castle walls. We sprinted the forest trails, the trees whipping past us in blurs of green and gold. Fae speed made the air rush against my face like wind on a cliff’s edge. My legs burned, but I didn’t stop.
Then came push-ups until my arms trembled, then punches blocked and thrown as Eryn drilled me again and again, her strikes fast and punishing. My mind barely caught a breath before Makar stepped in with that maddening grin, pushing me to hold my mental shield even as he whispered illusions and riddles into my thoughts, trying to unravel my focus.
“You call that a shield?” he teased, voice like silk dipped in trouble. “My auntie’s cat had stronger defenses.”
“Had?” I asked.
“Yup. She’s dead now. Both of ‘em.”
By sunset, I could barely lift my arms.
The training didn’t end until I collapsed to my knees, gasping, sweat streaking down my temples. My magic flickered behind my ribs, worn thin and unruly. I skipped dinner—I couldn’t even think about food.
When I finally stumbled back to my room, I didn’t bother lighting a candle. The door closed behind me with a soft click, and I collapsed into bed without a word.
Mage Hand reappeared without command, tucking the covers gently around me, its invisible fingers undoing my braid with soft, precise care.
“Thanks,” I murmured, my voice barely audible.
It lingered for a moment. And then, just as my eyes began to flutter closed, it vanished into the dark.
I slept with whispers still echoing in my head. Whispers I couldn’t quite remember. Or forget.
Chapter Fifteen
The following two weeks flew by in a blur.
My feelings for Fintan seemed off since that night with Makar. Not just for me, but for him as well. We only made love twice since the three of us were together. He never spoke of what happened. When I tried to bring it up, he got annoyed. He wanted to forget, while I fantasized about it constantly.
