Page 90 of Across an Endless Sea

“I don’t hate looking at you. It’s just because of your damned aura,” Drystan retorts, rubbing his temples. “You can’t shield yet. I was going to teach you, eventually. Until you learn, it’s painful for someone like me to look at you. I’ve had a Goddess-damned migraine since you arrived…” He pauses, shoving up from his seat and pacing away. “I can’t believe you thought…” He paces back.

It hurts him to look at me?No. That can’t be true.

Yet there’s no hint of a lie in his words.

I reach for him, grabbing the hem of his dark tunic and forcing him to stay still. “Aura?”

“The magical field that all fae have,” he explains, running a hand through his hair. “Some fae can learn to detect them; others, like me, are born able to see them. You’re so powerful that until you learn to shield it, I can’t look at you. I could go blind if I tried.”

“Then teach me to shield!”

“You had other more important things to learn,” he argues. “Flying, riding—fuck, reading! The only person inconvenienced is me, and I can deal with it, so it isn’t a priority.” He reaches down and gently removes my hand from his tunic so he can resume pacing. “I’m going to wring Caed’s neck for pretending to be me.”

“You have the closest build to him,” Jaro reasons. “He couldn’t exactly glamour himself to be my height without giving himself away. Bree is far thinner than both of you. Lore is too short…”

Lore looks offended for a second, then shrugs it off. “At least I’m the right height to steal Rose’s kisses.” Which he promptly does, brushing his lips over mine in a surprisingly tender and brief caress.

No matter how innocent the contact, it still turns the buzz beneath my skin riotous. I’ve missed his kisses, I realise. I had no idea I could become so fond of casual intimacy in such a short space of time, but I have.

Still, I have to shake it off. We have more important things to talk about than my mooning over my Guard.

“So this whole time,” I mumble, aghast. “Looking at mehurtyou? Why didn’t you say anything?”

If Drystan has been in pain all this time, is it any wonder he’s been an ass? Small stirrings of sympathy twist in my gut, along with the smallest flicker of hope. Maybe he doesn’t think I’m a complete waste of space after all.

Still… an apology wouldn’t go amiss.

“It isn’t important,” he dismisses the subject. “I certainly didn’t think you’d automatically jump to the conclusion that I hated you.”

“You still haven’t told her you like her,” Lore butts in. “Maybe that would help.”

Drystan freezes, then scrubs his hand down his face. “‘Like’ is not the word I’d use.” My heart sinks, but he continues. “You alone have the ability to frustrate me beyond measure. You are captivating—as I’m sure you’re aware—and infuriating. Far too soft-hearted for the task the Goddess has put before you, and yet…” He trails off, glancing at the others before shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “‘Like’ is too simple a term.”

Before I can pick apart his words, he changes the subject again. “I still want to know what happened to your hair and anything else that Caed needs to be made to pay for.” He waves his hand—or what should be his hand—for me to speak.

Instead, the action draws my attention to the charred mess where his palm should be, and five half-formed digits poking out of it.

“Your hand,” I breathe.

“Later,” he brushes me off again. “It will heal on its own. Now, answers.”

How can he be so cavalier about a missing hand? How did he lose it? In the back of my mind, I feel the connection to the Goddess stir, upset as ever by the idea of one of my Guard being injured.

“I’ll tell you how I lost my hair if you let me heal you,” I promise. “Titania.”

Drystan screws his eyes shut as Titania walks out of the bushes and waltzes towards me. She clasps my shoulder with a smile. At the same time, I reach for my connection to Danu and funnel it through the touch, making her corporeal. The soothing glow that marks her as a spirit manifests with her, bathing the area, and I watch as my Guard takes in the sight of my grandmother standing beside me with wide eyes.

“You should be resting,” Jaro says, but there’s no real censure in his tone.

He must be able to tell that I feel better than ever. Danu’s strength courses through my limbs, soothing aches and revitalising me.

I shift in Lore’s lap, stretching to reach Drystan. Beneath me, my redcap lets out a small groan, and I blush furiously as I realise what’s been poking into me this whole time.

Bad Rose, heal Drystan before you start wondering about Lore’s—in fact, just stop there.

The second I touch Drystan’s wrist he grimaces, then his expression morphs, harsh lines of strain bracketing his eyes.

“Why did you cauterise it?” Titania tuts. “You must’ve known that would make healing it harder.”

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