Page 144 of Commanding Flame and Shield
Peeling myself away from Alvara went against every instinct in my body, but I forced myself to follow. When I found the warrior, he leaned against the marble balcony overlooking the hall below. Book casually folded in one hand, his forearms braced against the banister. If I didn’t know better, it seemed as though shadows emanated from the man, his very being weighing down the hallway like the marble below him. The dark heaviness of his presence halted my steps.
“You’re going to give yourself up.” It wasn’t a question, nor a command, but somewhere between the two. He rubbed a scar flecked hand over his jaw before setting it against his book again.
“If that’s what it takes, yes.”
“Ally has yet to crack a thread where you don’t. Why?”
I hesitated, and stared at that face, which seemed carved of granite.
“I’m not sure, to be honest.”
“If not Ally, then what—who—would be worth dying for?”
“He doesn’t seek to kill me.”
“Enslavement isn’t better.”
“No,” I acquiesced. “It’s not.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve sacrificed yourself for the greater good.”
I scowled at him. “If you know something that might help us, Ansel, now would be the time to reveal it.”
He ran his tongue over the front of his teeth, sucking on one. “I’m going to ask you for something your instincts are not going to like.” He pointed his book my way, emphasizing his intent as he said, “I need you to grant me your trust, August. When the timing is right, everything will come to light, but I must wait for the moment to present itself. And this isn’t it. Aren and Alvara trust me to make the hard calls—including honoring this one. Can you?”
Cold steel locked on me as I ground my teeth. With a frustrated huff, I nodded, and he released the air he’d been holding.
“I don’t care for delving into past lives. They’re vivid enough without a mind carver digging them up.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not entirely certain—the way Alvara can be certain—but your energy is…familiar. Someone I served, a very long time ago. He sacrificed himself for our kingdom.”
“Seems to be a common thread.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d say the corner of his lip twitched. Just for a split second. “Indeed.” He sucked on his teeth again, seeming to grapple with something. “The shadows don’t tempt you.” It wasn’t a question. “You’re sent here to light the way when the world goes black.” When it was obvious I had nothing to say to that, Ansel continued. “Being soul bound doesn’t change that. You’ll likely re-circulate together, and now that it’s easier to survive childhood, find each other relatively quickly when we talk on terms of mortal life. Since the mortals have…sanitized…finding each other has gotten easier. That being said…soul shock is real. And I would be prepared for it, if I were you.”
“You speak as though there is no chance of victory.”
“I don’t sugar coat bullshit.”
“You know, I believe that.” I snorted as he chuckled—the sound so rare it was startling.
“I’ve been watching Ally. Closely. Watching the interaction with Adrastos. He’stauntingher. Like a cat, playing with its food. I think he already knows his plan, and is making decisions for fun, to keep her off his trail. I think she knows it.” He sighed deeply before continuing, "He’s played this game before—perhaps with the two of you, with the way he behaves around her. Speaks to her. Ally is…the best of us. The strongest—next to you, I suppose, whenever your power actualizes.” Ansel became quiet for a long while, and I just allowed him to think. Something in my gut said whatever he had bothered to summon me for was worth waiting to hear. Was worth the tug towards Alvara as her chiming laugh carried over the rumble of Alec and Aren in the room to our backs.
“Have you studied astronomy much?”
“Not beyond high school.”
“Lana and I love space. You’ve inevitably noticed we’re not…great team players.” Amusement narrowed those silver eyes. “But we’ve always liked to study the stars. When things are calm…on the soul front, we like to take to a desert, and stay up all night together.” I raised my brows suggestively, and he sniggered. A one shoulder shrug. “Aside from very needed alone time, learning about the stars—the constellations. It’s become a favorite pass time. When decades blend into centuries, you’ll get it.” Ansel sighed deeply through his nose. “Has Aren ever told you about a soul nova?”
“Like a supernova?”
He nodded, and I shook my head in response. “It’s not very common. Even fewer are willing to…talk about it. You see. We’re all granted a certain…level of power in our souls. Some of us are a red dwarf star—like me, or Alana, or Aphaea—we’re skilled, but not exactly overpowered by our gifts. We can last an eternity if left alone. Nobody really bothers with us, because we don’t draw much attention. But our lifespan is long enough that we become quite…proficient, in certain areas.” He bobbed his head, shrugging a shoulder. “I mean, Fae can wield all the elements with a decent amount of strength, so she might be a bit more than that. But not by much. There are main sequence stars—yellow stars, like our sun, for example—that are powerful enough to effect and nourish life, to effect seasons and elements, like Alec, like Brody and Marcus, and their brothers.” Ansel ran a palm over his beard. “Souls like Aren, like Nathara, Ragen and Reyna, perhaps this…Adrastos…” Ansel narrowed his eyes, jaw set, selecting his words carefully. “They fall somewhere in the realm of the giants. Not always the most prominent, but often dense with power. So immense, they affect everything around them. Everything in proximity. Nothing is untouched before they burn out—and it seems they’re given the skillsets to write history. But Alvara—and I believe you—you’re super giants.”
I choked on a laugh, as he raised his eyebrows.
“Do you know what a supernova is?”
The violent death of a star. An explosion or implosion of a sun that had burned through its resources flashed through my mind. An old lesson, buried in the files of random, useless information in my brain. Ansel gave a small smile as the information darted through my thoughts.
“Good. Your mate, I believe, is like a supergiant…masqueradingas a dwarf star. Trying to convince herself she isn’t what she is. A lot like you.” A wry smile. “Shecontainsherself. Holds back, where the others nearly burn themselves out with simpler tasks. I’ve sensed it since we met each other. Her lives are brief, but immense. She’s young in this life—a baby, at this point—and barely has begun to burn through her resources…still burning hydrogen, if we keep up our star analogy. I am concerned that Adrastos will be...aviolentaccelerant. In her effort to protect what she loves, she might go into such a state of fusion that her power…unleashes itself upon us all. And, like a supergiant…the effect would be—”
