Page 55 of Omen of ice
With the ice beneath its feet, the animal can’t control its trajectory. I’m able to lift the sword and cleanly plunge the blade into its heart as it passes.
The tragon convulses several times before falling still. Watching the light leave the animal’s eyes both turns my stomach and feeds a boiling rage I hadn’t been aware of until that moment.
No. Not my rage.
“You’re angry,” I say, understanding. These aren’t my feelings—they’re Tania’s.
“I’m not,” she returns, brows furrowed. She retrieves the sword and holsters it, then drops her gaze to her hands. They’re tinted blue, slowly returning to their normal coloring.
“About the tragon.” My tone is softer. Careful. Being linked to a druid, someone whose people were once able to speak to animals, puts things into a sharper,harsherperspective. Guilt, even though I had no choice, washes through me. “You didn’t want to kill it.”
She leans against the nearest tree and huffs out a breath. “Please, don’t. The guilt… It’s suffocating. I thought once we left the estate, it would get better—”
“What do you mean?”
Her expression softens, and she tilts her head back. “I know you felt bad about the donation. The guilt was eating us both alive.”
She’s right. The guiltwaseating us both alive—but it wasn’t the donation that was doing it. It was the tear. “I’m sorry. About that…and the tragon.”
Her gaze shifts to the beast. Reaching forward, she runs a single finger along the length of its massive claw. When she draws back and turns, there’s a spark of concern in her eyes. She holds up her hands. “True or not, don’t you think there’s something more pressing to concern ourselves with?”
I nod to her sword, remembering the feel of it in my hands, the exhilaration. “It was your skill with the blade that guided my hand.”
“And your magic that flowed through mine,” she says, frowning. “This could be a problem.”
“We already knew the link intensified during emotional situations.” Until now, it’s just been a heightened awareness. What does this change mean? “How did you know we could do that?”
“I didn’t. It was just something I felt. In my gut. And we survived…this time.” She paces from one end of the dead tragon to the other. “We have no idea how to control this, and it seems to be getting stronger.”
“Maybe it was a one-time thing. A spike in the connection brought on by our situation.” I grab her arm as she passes. “Try to do it again. Freeze something.”
Her frown deepens. “It only happens when one of us is worked up.”
I wink. “Well, if you come a little closer…”
She glares at me, but I don’t sense any anger. If anything, I feel an ember of amusement…and something else.
I throw my hands up. “Okay, okay. But, really, try to do it again.”
Her brows form a deepV, but she nods and steps back. Holding out her hands, she closes her eyes and sighs. “Anything?”
At first, there’s nothing to see. There are no traces of frost on her fingers, no change in her overall coloration. Then I catch sight of the grass a few feet from where the tragon lies. It isn’t much, but a small area, several inches at most, has frosted over. It isn’t my doing.
“Nothing,” I lie. Telling her the truth right now would only cause her more distress—which would causememore distress. That’s the last thing we need… I need to keep my emotions in check or I’m going to make this worse—for both of us.
We walk in silence for half the day. Tania keeps her hand on the hilt of her sword, constantly scanning the terrain. The quiet isn’t uncomfortable, but it isn’t easy, either. When the tragon grabbed her, a stone settled in my gut. I told myself it was fear. For myself, for the magic—but there was more to it. More than the Fae/Aphelian bond. The idea that something might happen to her, might take her from me, is suffocating, and I can’t seem to shake it.
“Does that happen often?” Tania asks. The sun is setting, and our pace has slowed considerably. We’ll have to stop soon to rest. “You losing yourself so completely?”
“That’s not what happened.” The words flow effortlessly, but inside, I snap them. It’s a sore spot. A constant reminder that Orbik is right to segregate me. She quirks a brow, and I wonder if she feels my anger, as I had hers earlier.
“Fine,” she responds, equally cold as the voice inside my head. “Whatever you need to call it. How often does it happen?”
“Like you saw back at the estate, little slips happen all the time. Sometimes, like after the market, it’s a bit more…complicated. When it comes to the magic taking control and leaving me in a haze? That’s only the second time it’s ever happened.”
She peers at me, and I don’t need to see the look in her eyes to know she doesn’t believe it—and can I really blame her?
“I was aware the entire time. The magic had me locked away inside myself. When the power took over, I was nothing more than a bystander.”
