Page 66 of The King's Queen

Torin steps in and places a soft hand on my elbow. “It’s against the royal decree. Once a duel has been accepted, the maiden being dueled for is prohibited from seeing either competitor before the event. This was placed so she couldn’t use magic, dark or light, to give her favored opponent an edge to the competition.” The blonde sighs heavily. “It’s an archaic rule. I can’t believe that idiot. The last duel was…”

“Finneas Iales for Aiko Denize’s hand,” I murmur in recognition. Torin’s eyes widen with questions but shakes them off.

I feel fury and heat pool through my core. He ‘saw no harm in it.’ Their deaths have no hold of guilt or concern over him. They mean nothing to him. We mean nothing to him.

Fingers lace themself across my wrist. “Not here,” Rowan murmurs in my ear. “You’re starting to glow, love.”

I lower my gaze to my wrist, where his hand is covering the faint glow of my veins. A pounding headache works its way through my temples, though I note it is not as severe as it was the first time.

“Get me out of here.” I plead to no one in particular. All three of them share knowing glances before Torin nods his head in the direction of the stables.

“Follow me.”

Tanja fastens my cloak tighter around my shoulders as we follow Torin closely. She eyes my glowing veins and squinting eyes with only worry, no signs of fear or confusion. I nearly laugh. Of course, she would know already. Either Rowan told her, or she sorted it out herself. I wouldn’t be surprised by either. Tanja is the smartest person I know, though she guards that secret fiercely beneath a bubbly personality.

The blonde knight pulls open the doors to the stables. Thankfully, it is empty. He lights an oil lamp and guides us around a bend towards the back of the stables. As we walk, I find less stalls occupied until we come to the far corner, where I see a familiar black head bob out the opening of his stall.

“Hi, Vestíg.” A small laugh burbles from between my lips, though it sends splitting pain through my head. Rowan’s fingers find mine and squeeze. Tanja takes my other hand, and the pain lessens.

“No one comes back here anymore. They’re all too terrified of him, so we should be unbothered.”

I step forward with a frown. “No one has claimed him?”

“The Tesslari delegates said he didn’t come with them, and he’s not one of ours. He just appeared out of nowhere. Not even the other horses like him.”

Rowan bristles beside me. Now that is something we both can understand.

Slowly, I let light trickle from my fingertips, and I concentrate on allowing it to flow from me in a mist on its own rather than concentrated streams or enabled by some other earthly substance. I open my mouth to repeat the words I’ve taken to memorizing when Tanja stops me.

“Picture the meaning in your mind,” she corrects. “Words are just tools to enable you. If you want to fully release your power, you can’t rely on others, only the well of magic within yourself. Use your mind as a funnel, not your tongue.”

She drops her hand from where it had been, correcting my form moments before when she catches our gawking stares.

“What?”

“How do you know all of that?” Rowan asks suspiciously. He eyes trace over her form, then linger on her wrists and eyes. A sharp jab of jealousy strikes my center despite knowing Tanja has her eyes set on someone else. My friend only shrugs.

“You weren’t the first to see signs of her power. I did my research for when this day would come,” she says before she stands back. Her eyes look into mine, and she nods.

The wind stills around us, and even Vestíg halts his pawing as if in reverence. I allow my jealousy to fade into that white heat pooling in my stomach. Allow it to work its way through my blood to my outstretched palm. Skeins of light slither through my veins, setting my skin aglow. Torin stifles a surprised yelp as my hand grows hot and begins to faintly illuminate.

Small wisps of light shoot from my fingertips before enveloping my palm in a blaze. The more I concentrate on this energy flowing through me, the less I can feel the pain that burned under my skin only minutes before. I hone my focus on the cool sensation spreading through my limbs, so stark in contrast to the blazing white light I hold in my hands. However, it doesn’t burn like it looks like it should. Instead, it feels sweet, like a long sought-after relief. I allow my shoulders to relax and hum contently, suddenly deciding to push it further.

I allow the light to gravitate upwards, then explode into thousands of sparkling pieces that hover in the air. One lands on the stallion’s nose, and he snorts, but his gaze never leaves the glow. Almost like he is entranced by the light.

With every broken beat of my heart, I allow the light to grow. The strength coursing beneath my skin is intoxicating and begs for release. I allow it.

I hold no affection for you.

A sputtering ember glows brighter.

When you rot to hell, I’ll be waiting.

The ember flickers into a long tendril of power that weaves itself up my arm until it licks the nape of my neck and curls under my chin.

You’ve turned her into a murderer.

The final chord of restraint holding me back from the edge of full release snaps, and I teeter over the precipice. Its mouth opens wide in welcoming, its warm breath fanning my face. I breathe deeply and prepare when someone pulls me back.

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