Page 175 of The Stolen Throne
Reven’s arms tighten around me a smidge. “The shadows saved you today.”
I wondered when we’d get to this. I’ve been standing up here going over and over what happened. “You thought so, too?”
He unwinds his arms, takes me by the shoulders, and turns me to face him. “The shadows saved you and brought you to me.” He lifts a hand to curl a lock of my hair around his finger.
I swallow at the tender action, but I’m still working on what he’s saying. “So that definitely wasn’t you or even…Eidolon? Or a ghost, maybe?”
“I was too far away, and I’m pretty sure the king would have shown his face as soon as the amulets were out in the open.”
True. And all of this I logically knew. “So…do we think that was the nymph’s curse?”
He hesitates, searching my gaze, then leans down so we’re eye to eye. I would only have to tip forward slightly to be able to press my lips to his.
“Curse? More like a blessing.” He lets me hear the fine thread of urgent surety in his voice. “This proves you have some kind of control of Eidolon’s power. My power.”
I know that shadows saved me, but there’s a huge, glaring issue… “But I didn’t do anything.”
“Not consciously. But the instinct for survival did it for you. Otherwise, how did you not drown at the bottom of that Whirlpool?”
I frown, tossing the thought over in my head.
My own power over sand started the same way. It manifested very young—a fact that caused Grandmother and Omma a great deal of angst, given that we had to hide it. At first, I didn’t know I was doing anything. No glow. No feel of the power at work. Sand would just…do things around me.
Now, shadow is doing the same. Reven said he wasn’t who shadowed us out of the palace the night he and Cain came for me. Was that the curse? And telling the darkness in the Shadowood to leave him alone and it seeming to listen… Nothing else explains how I shadowed all the way to Tropikis.
Am I using powers that aren’t mine to do it? Or do I want this to be true so badly that I’m seeing truth that isn’t there? Because if this is, in fact, how the curse works, it means a lot of things can change. With Reven. With Eidolon. What if I could stop the king with a mere thought? It could solve so many of my problems.
“Eidolon’s Shadows tried to kill me when we rescued Tabra in Oaesys. Hells, even yours tried. I had to almost kill you myself to get you back.” I shudder, the burn and horror as I crushed him beneath the glass still fresh, like a knife tip piercing my heart. I kept my eyes closed when I did it. I couldn’t watch.
He nods. “That was before the curse snapped into place when Eidolon laid eyes on you the first time.”
It feels right, but it also feels off. Like we’re missing something. Why didn’t anything happen the last night in the palace when the king threatened Achlys? I was terrified. And furious. I wasn’t directly under threat, but could I have saved Ushi? And what about Wildernyss? Reven, not me, threw up that shadow wall in Trysolde’s throne room. Or did he? Maybe, like my power over sand, it will ebb and flow until I get the hang of it? To me, that makes the most sense.
He grips my shoulders tighter. “What if that means I can’t harm you? That the king’s Shadows can’t, either? Because you won’t let them?”
My heart kicks against my ribs, a small fissure of answering anticipation cracking through the worry that’s hardened around my heart. If this is true… But what if my gut is right, and there’s something else at play here?
I look out over the revelers. I’m already in my costume, prepared to leave the palace. Ready for a celebration.
Maybe I should. Celebrate, I mean. I tip my head. “What do we do now? Train me in the ways of the shadow or something?”
That’s when I feel it. Inside me. Warmth that has nothing to do with the balmy night air. The hope isn’t coming from me this time. It’s from him.
From Reven.
I’ve never felt anything like this from him before.
“We will. But first…” He swallows. “If I can’t hurt you, maybe we can try…” He stops, shakes his head. “I’m doing this all wrong.”
A rhythmic pounding fills my head, and maybe it’s the drums in the streets below, but I think it’s more likely my heart. Because now I see where he’s going.
I might burst with it, the anticipation bubbling out of me in a smile. “Yes, you are.”
On a huff of a laugh, Reven lowers his forehead to mine, eyes closed, and we just breathe. Slowly, he slides one hand into my hair.
“So, what does this look like?” he asks after a second. “What do you want it to look like?”
“Well…” Do I dare? Omma would caution me. So would Tabra. So, for that matter, would all our friends.
