Page 48 of The Powerless Witch

“You smell divine as usual,” I offered gently, and she gave me that fake, reserved smile. “But to answer your question, yes. There is a reason. Turn around and lift your arms to the side.”

She pursed her lips as if biting back a retort, but then did as she was told. The pond was already humming with power, the connection it bore to the earth, the air, the water, and the fire running below the surface, making it uniquely useful to those attuned to magic. And if Celeste had hers, she would have felt it already.

Raising my fingers above the surface, I took her hand in mine and started massaging it. The magic licked her skin, but despite my best efforts to coax it to sink into her, it slid off and dripped back into the pond. I did not give up.

“This pond is a treasure of my people,” I said as I continued to work my way up her arm. “It interconnects all elements of nature—air, for it’s essential to all living things; water, for our bodies are made of it; earth, for it provides all the remedies to heal; and fire, for it gives the force to bind them together.”

“Fire?” she repeated, her eyebrows knitting together. “Where?”

“There is a salamander hatching ground right below it.” I smiled while she looked at me over her shoulder, curiosity replacing the passiveness. “That’s the reason the water is so warm.”

Celeste nodded, looking at the bottom as if expecting to see flames burning deep beneath the soil.

My hands reached her shoulders, and I pressed my thumbs between her blades, sliding them toward her neck. I tried to avoid the tender spot around her mark, but it stood right in the middle of her energy pathway, so I had no choice but to touch it. I wasn’t sure if Isaac was aiming for it, but his bite was cleverly placed—her magic, her life force, would have to pass through there to reach her head, thus carrying their connection to the brain with no chance of escaping it. The mark on herchest—Roman’s mark, if I was correct—was just as purposeful, but in his case, I had no doubt it was intentional. He latched himself right into her heart—laying claim to it so nobody else could go near.

“Is it working?” she asked, her voice sounding impatient.

I let my finger drag over her back, tracing the pathway running down her spine—the one that drove right through her core, which now stood empty and barren. The focal point that held her essence, her feelings, her memories. All tucked away in corners that would not be disturbed.

I paused my fingers in the middle of her back and I heard her gasp.

“Tell me about your family,” I said, and her shoulders immediately locked. Her muscles grew taut, her skin turning as elusive as oiled leather that made the water slip over it without soaking in even the tiniest bit. Cold spread through my hand, but I pressed my fingers harder, ignoring the odd sensation.

“Why?” she asked in a clipped tone, her displeasure palpable.

“Because the curse of the blade is not the only thing blocking your magic,” I replied, letting my hand fall. She whipped around, glaring at me with such fervor that it made me smile. That only made her madder, so I continued before she exploded. “You have been blocking parts of yourself long before that blade entered your body. It didn’t prevent you from using your magic because it was done so cleverly. You didn’t block the main pathways, and you always left a way for the power to flow through. But it affected you. It made you weaker, colder, more detached. Magic is fueled by emotions, Celeste—raw, genuine, powerful emotions. And you have been locking those away for centuries.”

“If it wasn’t a problem before, why is it now?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“Because before, you could avoid those paths and still find an outlet,” I replied, placing the tip of my finger on her forehead. “Anger.” I moved the finger lower, pausing it at the base of her throat. “Fear.” I traced further down the empty pathways that she couldn’t see until my finger rested below her right collarbone. “Contempt.” Her eyes narrowed, but when I continued, grazing my fingertips between her breasts and over her navel, she sucked in a sharp breath. She stepped back right before I reached the apex of her thighs. “Lust.”

Her eyes were burning now, and it wasn’t just anger I saw in them.

So that’s what it had been, what I was sensing earlier. Interesting.

“Try living two thousand years being hunted and killed and then give me lectures about how I should do it,” she snapped, stomping toward the shore. I watched her stumble several times, her breathing labored and sharp even though the bottom of the lake was entirely flat and there were no plants to impede her.

“I can’t heal it,” I said just as she reached the bank, preparing to hoist herself out of the water. Her expression was shocked when she looked at me over her shoulder, then turned to one of pure rage.

“Then why did you—”

“I can’t heal the paths that the dagger destroyed because there is nothing left to heal. Everything that poisoned blade touched is gone beyond whatIcan repair,” I said softly, making my way toward her. She narrowed her eyes but didn’t move to get out. “But I can help you heal the ones you blocked because your magic is part of you and it can mend you in a way no outside force can. The blade was supposed to destroy it completely so you cannot heal. The only reason you still have any kind of magic is because you mutilated yourself in an attempt to escape those feelings. You locked them to protect yourself, and over time, they withered and became inaccessible. That’s why the blade’s magic didn’t reach them. That’s why it never reached your core. You protected yourself by blocking the parts that hurt the most, that matter the most. Your kindness, your compassion, your love.”

A muscle twitched in her face, but it was hard to tell if what I saw in her eyes was fear or understanding. Maybe both. Maybe something much deeper, much scarier, much harder to put into words. I couldn’t begin to imagine what it was like to live so long, to gain and lose so much, to be hunted and killed for centuries. Maybe she had a good reason to do this to herself; maybe she didn’t. But the only thing that mattered now was what she would do next.

“If you want to live, Celeste, if you want your magic back, there is only one thing you can do. Unseal those paths. Heal. Giving away your soul did not take those away from you.Youdid that. But you can get them back. You can get it all back.” I reached for her and almost stopped when she flinched. Yet she didn’t pull away as I cupped her cold cheeks. “If you do this, magic will flow through your body again, and over time, it will heal the damage caused by the Fae blade. You will be stronger and complete in more ways than one. The question is, what is more important to you? Escaping your past or embracing your future?”

Her throat bobbed, and her hot breath tickled my palms while she fought to get the words out. Her eyes were so full of fear and hesitation that I felt the urge to take her into my arms and hold her, to tell her everything would be alright and she had nothing to fear. But the Fae did not lie, and she was not a fragile child who needed consolation.

She was death and life in one, yet she was perfectly human—and capable of facing the greatest of adversities. And she was ready, even if she didn’t know it.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” she whispered, her voice shaky and breathless.

I let my hands drop, catching hers between my fingers and bringing it to my lips.

“I gave you my oath and I shall do so again,” I said softly, pressing my mouth against her wet knuckles. I watched how a single drop of the pond magic sunk into her skin, making the place glow before absorbing into her essence. My smile widened. “You shall not walk this path alone, my dearest savior. I will be beside you for as long as you need me. I swear it on my life.”

Chapter 21

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