Page 78 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
My breath hitched.
But before I could respond, he smirked and added, “Shame your sword skills are as sloppy as your footwork.”
I scowled, jerking my wrist in his grip. “Keep talking, and I’ll show you just how sharp I can be while I shove my foot up your ass.”
Then—just as suddenly as he’d touched me—he let go. Cold returned like a slap, and he stepped back, eyes shuttered.
“Again,” he said flatly.
The softness from before? Gone.
But instead of returning to the stance, he raised a hand. “Magic. Now.”
I hesitated. “Which one?” I smiled.
“All of it.”
I clenched my jaw. “Perfect.”
I focused, letting heat rise in my palms, the fire within answering my call. Twin flames curled around my fingers—wild, flickering, unstable.
Zayn watched silently.
My magic hummed beneath my skin, a constant thrum in my veins. But unlike before, I had control now. Real control. It no longer surged chaotically, no longer exploded from me in fits of panic or pain.
Now, it answered.
It listened.
I didn’t have to reach too far. Didn’t have to fight it. I simply asked—and it came. My fiery dragon exploded from my hands, and I surged it towards Zayn. Shocked, he ducked, barely missing my attack. I smiled and extinguished my fire.
Then I stomped once, calling on the ground beneath me. Roots shivered. A crack split the earth at my feet, as the roots slithered towards him, curling around his boots. I held it for just a second before releasing it. The earth stirred beneath my feet in gentle response, and I felt the familiar tug of life just beneath the surface. Vines slithered up through the soil—slim, green, and alive with energy. They moved asif summoned by instinct, not command. Their petals bloomed as they rose, velvety and deep violet, glistening faintly in the light that filtered through the trees.
And then they shifted.
Not toward me—but toward him.
My breath caught.
The vines slid forward, weaving sinuously through the grass, drawn to Zayn as if he were a flame and they the smoke. They reached his boots and curled delicately around his ankles—not to trap or restrain. No, this wasn’t defense.
It was… playful.
The way the petals brushed his skin as they climbed his calf, curling gently up his leg, made heat flood my cheeks.
They were flirting.
My magic—my own damn vines—were flirting with Zayn.
It betrayed me.
Zayn’s lips twitched into a grin.
“Oh?” he said, voice smug and amused. “Look at that. They like me.”
I hissed under my breath and yanked the magic back, focusing hard. “Traitors,” I muttered.
The vines slowly unwound, reluctantly releasing his leg before sinking back into the earth.
