“Fuck that,” I snap at her, grabbing her roughly by the arm and jerking her around to face me. Her white curly hair goes swinging in a beautiful arc in the opposite direction. “I know you care for me. Otherwise, you would have never come. You would have never stayed. You might not know how to vocalize it, but we’ve connected and bonded since you’ve been here. So that’s not the reason, and you know it. How about you tell me what the real reason is?”
Zora’s eyes are wide with surprise, and I can tell by the guilt in her eyes that I’m right. She was trying to use a hypothetical lack of care on her part as her excuse, but I called her on her bullshit. There’s something else, and she’s embarrassed to acknowledge it.
She glances out at the sea, then back to me before admitting, “I’m afraid to use my power.”
That, I was not expecting. I tip my head to the side. “But why?”
“Because all day today, every time I start to pull on it, it feels… almost ominous.”
“Dark?” I guess.
She nods and adds, “Dangerous. I’m afraid I can’t control it, and someone will get hurt.”
I ponder that because I know exactly what she’s feeling. I felt it when I pulled on her powers that day in Faere against Deandra when I almost felt like I could have killed her in cold blood without a single worry.
“I wanted to save you when you dropped,” Zora says earnestly. “But I was too afraid I’d hurt you instead. Besides… I knew Carrick was never going to let you hit those thorns.”
I smile. “It’s fine. I know you don’t want me to get hurt.”
“But even if you were in real danger, I don’t know if I would have overcome my fear,” she says in a small voice, and I hear shame within it.
“Your fear is legitimate, Zora.” I step in a bit closer to her, making sure her eyes hold mine. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I feel like I do,” she laments, throwing her arms out. “I mean… I can conjure croissants and wings with no fear.”
“And what does that feel like?” I ask curiously.
“The wings I’ve called forth so many times, it doesn’t feel like anything. It feels like a natural part of me. The other stuff I did today, I can tell the power comes from a place of darkness, but it’s like the darkness doesn’t care about small things like that. Like it can’t be bothered to care about it. Or maybe there’s some light magic still within me. Who knows? But when you were falling and I started to call on my power to stop you, I think I felt evil inside of me. Like it was outraged I would use it to save you. What does that mean?”
Shaking my head, I give her a grim smile. “I don’t know, Zora. I felt that darkness when I inadvertently pulled on your magic, so I know exactly why you’re feeling the way you are. We can’t ask Deandra because her magic is light. Boral doesn’t have magic, and we don’t have any other magical Dark Fae around to ask.”
Emitting a tiny growl, she mutters, “I wish I could reach Amell. Maybe he could teach me.”
“Would he?” I ask skeptically. “Would he really teach you something that could be used against his queen?”
Zora shrugs. “I honestly don’t know. But as it stands, I’m really afraid to use it. I’m afraid it might change me. Turn me dark. If it does, I won’t be able to come back from it.”
I look over my shoulder at Carrick, who leans against the porch railing as he, Titus, and Priya watch us.
Giving my attention back to my sister, I put a hand on her shoulder. I feel the tiny jerk of unease from the physical contact, but she doesn’t shrug me off. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. If you have even the slightest worry your own powers could hurt you, cause you to hurt someone else, or turn you dark, then I want you to leave them alone.”
“Really?” she asks, the hope and relief in her voice almost too much to bear, because that means what we’ve put her through has been beyond stressful.
“Well, you conjure a nice croissant,” I tease with a wink. “Maybe you could make breakfast for us each day.”
Zora stares at me blank-faced, not understanding I’m joking. That makes me laugh. I put my arm around her shoulder, turning her toward the porch. “I need to give you some lessons in humor.”
CHAPTER 17
Finley
“This almost feels normal,” I muse as Carrick and I walk hand in hand down the block. The Prestige is up ahead and our pace is leisurely, neither of us in a rush to get back to the condo.