“First thing is you’ll need something to store the magic in. I thought ahead and brought this.” Allor takes out a glass pendant on a silver chain. The glass is cut in such a way that it catches even the faintest of flickers from the chandeliers overhead and breaks down the light into rainbows. “You’re welcome.”
“Another relic?” Davien asks. Even he sounds skeptical of the woman now. Which makes me feel better, if only slightly. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something distinctly off about her.
“Indeed. It was among the royal jewels…down in the vaults where Boltov keeps the old Aviness treasures. Don’t ask me what king or queen it belonged to, I’ve not the foggiest.”
“Taking this was reckless of you.” Yet even as Vena says the cautioning words, she’s moving toward the necklace.
“I know. But you’re glad I did.” Allor grins and holds it out.
Vena takes the pendant with both hands, cradling it gently. “Yes, that is the make of the old ones,” she whispers and returns to me. “Here.”
I accept the necklace. I expected the glass to feel sharp given its many edges, but it feels more like velvet underneath my fingers—warm, soft, almost alive. I inhale softly as a rush surges through me.
“What did you feel?” Vena misses nothing.
“It—It felt familiar,” I admit. “Something about it… I’ve felt this before.”
“That’s the power within you recognizing this as familiar and calling out.” Vena looks back to Allor. “What is the next step for her to abdicate this power?”
“From what I read, the king that abdicated held the glass crown and looked into the eyes of his successor. He said he would impart the magic and throne. And then it would be handed over and the new king would be crowned.”
“Seems easy enough.” Davien comes to stand before me, walking with purpose. I stare up at him, heart instantly racing once more thanks to his proximity. “Good. Look into my eyes, Katria.”
The way he says that…so easy, almost sultry. I bite my lip. I hate what this man does to me against my will. I don’t want everything to be ignited by the mere sight of him. But he couldn’t be more handsome than in that ethereal way of his.
“What next?” I whisper. Even though they just told me what this ritual entailed, my mind is already blank.
“Wait, first…” Vena says. She’s buzzing about in my periphery. Whatever she’s doing, though, is lost on me.
All I can focus on is Davien’s eyes. Perhaps the ritual has already started. They’ve never looked brighter—never been more all-consuming. My stare wanders, riding down the edge of his nose to land on his lips, a dusky pink that begs to be kissed. It’s good my sisters never laid eyes on him. Even though he’s a fae, they would be utterly shattered. Maybe him being fae would make them desire him all the more. He’s dangerous…forbidden.
So what hope do I have? I swallow thickly. I don’t have an answer.
“Two separate. One together,” Vena murmurs. Her fingers impose on my field of vision as she reaches up to Davien’s cheek. She draws swirling lines and dots across his right cheek and then his left in a dark purple ink that slowly fades as it dries. Then I feel her finger on my cheek. “Two separate. One together.”
“Two separate,” I’m compelled to repeat. The ink seeps into me like the words.
“One together,” Davien finishes, sending a rush through me.
Vena moves behind me. I’m trapped between her and Davien. Not that there’s any escaping. There never was for me. As soon as Joyce married me off I was destined to be with this man…even if that marriage is no longer valid.
“Now, start,” Vena whispers into my ear as I look into Davien’s eyes. “Breathe with him.” Davien inhales and I do the same, just like the drawings on our cheeks mirror each other. “Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.”
The breaths are so slow and deep that I’m lightheaded. I lean closer to him and I think I see him do the same. His soft fingers brush against my calluses as he cups my hands, holding the glass necklace with me between us.
“Gather the power of kings—the power that does not belong to you. Take that foreign magic and cast it to its rightful owner,” Vena instructs.
I inhale on Davien’s exhale. Everything is thrown off for a second. I quickly get back in sync. This whole ritual is hanging on me and I’ve no idea what I’m doing. The longer I’m trying the more frustratingly apparent it is.
But I have to try.
I begin to focus on every inch of my body. I focus on the muscles of my feet as they press into the ground, keeping me stable as the rest of me feels like it’s trying to fly away. I focus on my stomach, still doing flips at the way Davien continues to stare at me. I focus on my physical body to the point that it fades away. As if once my mind has understood it, then it no longer needs to be considered.
Then…what’s left is song. That thrumming beat I heard when I fell into the fire. The music of ancients, all singing together in a chorus that’s highlighted by my mother’s voice.
That must be the magic. Magic is happiness, warmth, familiarity. Pure power should make someone feel good, after all.
I have to let it go. This wasn’t meant for me. And yet, it already feels as though it’s one with my blood. As though there’s no way I could ever untangle it.
