Page 72 of Omen of ice
The excitement in his voice, vibrating throughout his entire body and flooding our link, is infectious. “A Fae and a druid. This is what it was meant to be.”
“Buthow?” I’m elated, and it feels like every part of me is more alive than I’ve ever been, but what’s just happened isn’t possible. “I’m not an expert on druid magic. No one is, anymore. But living atop latent magic in the ground? It can’t do this.”
Can it? What other explanation could there possibly be?
He hesitates, and I feel it again. That odd emotion in the link. Does he feel guilty about having access to my people’s power? It’s not his fault…
“One of the very first things Buri drilled into my head was that power calls to power. As I grew older, stronger, the druid magic in the grounds at the estate must have somehow merged with mine.”
If that’s true, then Valen is even more important than Orbik thinks he is. He’s the future of the Faeandthe druids.
Daroose sits up and stretches, and I start. I’d completely forgotten about him. “If you two kiss again, fair warning, I’ll vomit. All that blather last night was more than I could stand. Trust me. You don’t want to see a kelpie vomit. Our bodies aren’t the only thing that can shapeshift.”
I yank my hand from Valen’s and stumble away. “Don’t be disgusting.”
Daroose rubs his eyes and climbs to his feet as he takes in the newly rejuvenated section of forest. “Didn’t you tell me that druid magic was lost to the Winter Lands?” His nose scrunches up, and his lips tilt down. He spreads his arms wide. “This looks prettymagicalto me.”
“It was—in a manner of speaking.” I drop my gaze back to the grass. The breeze kicks up, making it dance softly. “But Valen seems to have access to it.”
Daroose narrows his eyes at Valen, and the anger there surprises me.
Valen sees it, too. He throws up his hands as a rush of guilt washes through the link. “Don’t look at me like that. I have no control over this!”
Daroose’s brow furrows. “I heard you saywedid this. YouandKeltania.”
I open my mouth but close it, completely at a loss. Thankfully, Valen is slyer than me. “We don’t understand it, either. The truth is, we’re heading to Ventin. There’s an elder there who might be able to help us.”
Daroose sniffs the air. “You’re tied together somehow, aren’t you?”
“Something like that,” Valen says. He holds his ground, gaze never wavering. “We’re trying to fix it.”
Daroose sniffs again, then frowns. “I can scent no wrongdoing or violence on you. But the moment you slip…” The Kelpie smiles, then licks his lips slowly.
“And now it’s time for some ground rules.” I step between them. Valen might be mellow for a Fae, but I’m sure even he has his limits. Daroose is still a wild card. If I really am stuck with him for the next year, we need boundaries. “Even if Valen does something truly evil, you are forbidden from eating him.”
The angry twist of Daroose’s lips morphs into a childlike pout. “Well, that’s no fun at all.”
Valen grins and sticks his tongue out at Daroose.
“And you…” I glare at him. “Stop taunting him. It’s annoying.” Turning back to Daroose, I say, “In fact, eating people in general—no matter how wicked you deem them to be—is off-limits.”
The kelpie’s mouth falls open, and he stomps his foot. “How am I supposed to eat?”
“Spare us,” Valen says with a roll of his eyes. “Everyone knows kelpies are scavengers. You can eat animals just as well as you can feed on…other beings.”
Daroose pouts. “But the Fae taste so much better. Less fattening, too.” He turns to me. “Of course, I would refrain from indulging in human sinners out of respect for my druid friend.”
“Animals only.” I hope the command is enough. The last thing we need with all our other problems is a bloodthirsty kelpie leaving a trail of corpses scattered across Derriga.
“How about a finger? He has ten of them, after all. Or a toe! If he steps out of line, a single digit—”
I hold his gaze.
“Fine.” Daroose folds his arms and glares at me, not unlike a spoiled child. “I won’t eat him. But that doesn’t mean I can’t hurt him if he steps out of line.” He narrows his eyes at Valen, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Holding his pointer finger and thumb a hair away from each other, he adds, “Just a little.”
I drop my gaze back to the ground, to the newly grassy area. I’m the first druid in centuries to access our magic without the aid of ink—and it was amazing. A high unlike anything I’ve ever imagined. Now, though, I feel heavy. Like something is stirring inside me—something that doesn’t quite fit. I should be dancing over what we’ve done.
Instead, I feel a little bit sick.
