Page 62 of A Court of Ash and Midnight
“Well, you don’t want to try in here.” He pans his gaze around the tent. “You could burn the tent down.”
I flinch. “True. But where else can I practice where I won’t get jumped by the other champions?”
“I can get us past the guards. We’ll go somewhere safe.”
I nod and he squeezes my fingers, leading me to the back of the tent. “Step closer,” he says, his voice going an octave deeper.
I step into the circle of his arms, very aware of the press of his body against mine. His breath against my hair, his eyes sparkingin the darkness. The shadows inside my tent grow even deeper, darker, until I can’t see anything but those two dots of sea glass green. Heat builds between us, and I’m not sure if it’s Daemon’s magic or something else entirely. I can feel us moving, but it’s like we’re floating over the ground. And then, we are beyond the tent, out beneath the night sky.
I turn and look back a dozen feet to the tent, and the guards, who are standing dutifully around the perimeter. I look up at Daemon questioningly and open my mouth to speak, but he presses a finger over my lips and turns, leading me up into the green hills beyond the sea of canvas and leather. It’s not until we climb past the first set of peaks, after twenty minutes of weaving back and forth along a narrow path, that Daemon finally breaks silence.
“My family’s magical specialty is controlling shadows and the night,” he explains. “Which means I can make myself, and other things, nearly invisible. I can move through solid objects. And I can travel great distances in the night. In the day, too, but not as easily and not as far.”
“But how exactly?” I ask, sounding breathless not just from the climb but from Daemon’s words. It seems impossible, but it makes so much sense now.
“I can essentially… become the night.” He shrugs, as if this is no big deal.
“And the wings you summoned? The night you scared off Toryn?”
“Sometimes I use my magic to blend in… and other times, I do not.” He looks down at me, a slight smirk moving over his face.
“Back at Shadow’s Keep, you were in the House of Midnight? With the other shadow magic wielders?”
“I would have been, technically, but I was kept separate from the other trainees since I’m viewed as a threat.” His eyes grow darker as he speaks, a depth of emotion swimming beneath thesurface for a moment. “There are not many shadow wielders. And most cannot move through things or night travel like I can. That’s why Toryn fears me.”
“And he is House of Sky… power over the wind.”
Daemon nods. “Right. Little use against shadow magic. But he will be able to use it against yours.”
I can feel a knot of anxiety forming in my stomach. I don’t need more odds stacked against me.
Sensing my feelings, Daemon steps closer and runs a finger along the loose curls falling past my shoulder. “You can do this, little blacksmith. Let’s get started.”
We’re standing within a small glen in a dip between the emerald peaks. The night sky feels so close up here, the stars glittering and the moon casting silver light through the clouds. A breeze comes in off the ocean, carrying the scent of salt and far-off places I’ve never seen. A whisper of lives that I could lead, places I could travel, if I get through this tournament and somehow shake off my family. It seems impossible, but then, I’ve just traveled through the night as if my body were made of nothing but shadows.
I turn and face Daemon. “Back up, okay?”
“You’re not going to hurt me.” His eyes dance slightly in amusement. “Though I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Humor me, will you? I need some space.”
He dips his head in acquiescence and takes a few steps back so we’re standing a dozen feet apart. I close my eyes and think of fire. A thousand fires in a thousand forges I’d tended over the years. The crackle of the wood as its devoured, the rainbow of colors within the flames, blue and purple and white-gold and deep orange and garnet. The heat of it on my skin, the flush of my cheeks, the sweat at the back of my neck. The feeling ofhome.
There’s a tingle and a spark of heat at my fingertips.
But then, in my mind’s eye, there is an inferno. And I am nothing but a fourteen-year-old girl standing in front of a house that has been consumed by the fire I wrought.
I gasp and my eyes fly open.
“What is it?” Daemon asks, his eyes flickering in concern.
I shake my head. He’d said before, when I told him what I remembered from that night, that he knew I wasn’t to blame. But he’d been wrong. What would he think of me if he knew that it had truly been my fault? That I’m a foolish human girl who burned her family alive because she can’t control her magic?
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll try again.”
And I try. Again and again and again. But every time, it’s the same. Wildfire, burning out of control. Confusion. Devastation. The knowledge that I’ve lost something precious that I can’t even fully remember.
After the sixth attempt, I can feel hot tears coursing down my cheeks. A shudder moves up through my ribcage, and I spin, unable to face Daemon while I fall apart. I flee across the glen, moving toward the sea, the wind flinging my tears back behind me. When I reach the end of the glen, a place where a small spring bubbles out of the earth and cascades over the cliffs a few feet away, I stop and cover my face with my hands.
