Page 53 of Wicked Thieves
For a moment, she caught sight of his hand twitch then it moved, reaching forward in a trembling manner. Adan frowned as he watched her bring his arm up right. As if he were reaching his hand toward her. When she pulled her gift back, she felt out of breath.
Adan nodded and his terse approval sparked satisfaction within her. “Good. Go again.”
Again, she managed to move his arms and legs. At times, she’d grow impatient and would yank him suddenly, which earned her another scowl. Not that she’d cared so long as she could conjure and do something for a change.
“If the guards attack you, how would you stop an attack from coming? Say, if they rushed you?”
“I don’t?—”
Adan was before her in a blink, his long legs consuming thealready short distance between them faster than she could anticipate. She stumbled back, only for him to grab her arm and steady her.
His grin was strictly self-indulgent. “Let’s go again, this time anticipate me. Always expect an attack to come your way, never let your guard down.”
Stopping his attacks were far more difficult than she wanted to admit. Adan never harmed her, but his fist hovering mere inches away from her face told her all she needed to know about how, if this had been a real fight, she’d be dead.
They began a dance of push and pull. On and on they went, until she finally managed to stop him before he could so much as step toward her. His body trembling as he struggled to break free from her invisible hold, stumbling forward when she released him. It was exhilarating, being able to finally have some semblance of control where before she had close to none.
As much as she loathed to admit it, his tactics—however brash they may have been—had served to help her relearn all that she had lost. Never even had the opportunity to obtain in the first place.
By the time he called for a reprieve from his vigorous lessons, Anelize’s body felt exhausted. The dull ache in the back of her head fully pounding now. The more she conjured, the more she realized these headaches had started happening. She’d hoped the pain would subside once she built her endurance. She’d been mistaken.
A thought came to her then and she asked Adan, “What is your curse?”
If she hadn’t been watching him, she wouldn’t have noticed the way Adan paused before he looked at her.
“I can’t pinpoint it to one thing,” he answered, looking tohis brother and Aeric as they goaded each other. A solemn look taking over his face. “Sometimes it feels like my veins are turning to ice. Other times I’m so cold there’s no amount of fire that can warm me. It’s a kind of pain that lingers long after it ceases. No amount of healing or remedies can make it stop, unlessIstop conjuring.”
“And Idris?”
“My brother’s is different than mine. As yours is from ours or Aeric’s. It’s the price we pay for power, the Weaver made sure of that.”
“If we stopped conjuring then, would the curse stop?” It was a genuine question; one she found herself asking more and more every day.
His gaze hardened as he looked back at her. His answer definitive, leaving no room for argument. “I would never stop. Not until every Watchman was dead and we can all walk these streets freely. And doing so would mean I was willingly denying who I am,whatI am, and I’ve never once been ashamed of being a Vedran. No one can take that away from me. Not even if the fucking Weaver were haunting me from the afterlife.”
Behind him, Aeric and Idris had ceased in their sparring, taking to conversing in hushed tones. When Aeric laughed, the sound carried its way over to her. She realized she’d never heard him laugh before, and wondered how she could capture it, the rich sound that reminded her of honey being poured over a wound to soothe.
“How do you feel knowing you can at the very least try to survive?” Adan asked her as she took a seat on a small stool.
“Would it be such a grand effort to say ‘good job’?” she remarked. “Or were you simply never taught such words?”
“You’ll be praised once you can effectively conjure.” He then challenged her. “Unless you wish to slow my heart and put me unconscious.”
Anelize dropped her gaze, looking to her hands.
“I already told you, I don’t think I can.”
“Fine. Let us say you don’t do it. Then what? Without me or Aeric by your side, how will you defend yourself when you’re in the tunnels? When it will come down to your survival or an enemy’s, which will you choose?” Adan’s words to her surprise weren’t laced in anger or frustration as he came to lean against the wooden post beside her. Propping one leg up against it, he crossed his arms and watched as Aeric and Idris resumed their sparring once more.
“It isn’t as though I don’t recognize that. I do. I just…taking a life isn’t simple. Not for me, at least. I made a promise.” Anelize’s voice was so low she wondered if he was able to hear her at all.
He had heard her, for he said, “What promise was that?”
“Do you remember the first time you took a life with your own hands?” she asked him, her voice quiet.
Adan was silent for a moment before he said, “I do. It was the man who killed my mother.”
His answer made her eyes snap up to look at him.
