It’s much different from when Niethal compelled my magic to rise. There’s no pain, no force. I simply will it into existence.
Reagan slowly shakes his head. “He didn’t mean for it to hurt you. He was only trying to bring it out after being dormant. I’m sure of it.”
Ignoring his words, I focus on forming another fireball, pushing all my anger and frustration into the flame until it’s the size of a melon. I stare into the swirling red and orange sphere between my hands and am amazed at how it burns so wildly yet is so pliable to my will. If only other parts of my life would be so malleable. With a sigh, I toss it up into the air, and when it reaches its peak, I push more magic, causing it to explode, raining tiny glowing sparks from the sky.
Since arriving hours ago, Ellis hasn’t moved from the back wall or spoken a single word. The only thing he has done is glower at me, and after my latest show of magic, he remains unimpressed.
Reagan, on the other hand, beams at me. “You’re a quick study. I thought this would take days. Weeks, even.”
I’m also shocked at how effortless wielding my magic has become in such a short period. I went from barely summoning an ember to aiming and igniting objects at will. Now that I’m in control, it comes naturally, like flexing a muscle I didn’t know I had.
What helped get me to this point were Isiah’s words.He said magic has always been a part of me, even though I was unaware. So I stopped fighting it and started trusting myself. I was fearful it would hurt again, or that by accepting it I would lose the old me, but really, I accepted myself by embracing my magic.
This is who I am now, for better or worse. I choose to think it’s for the better.
Curious about what else I can do, I close my eyes and imagine fire surrounding me, pulsing and swirling, creating a barrier between me and the world. While envisioning this, heat blossoms overhead, and when I open my eyes, flames swirl around me, wrapping me in a ball of bright light.
Ellis and Reagan gape at me through the haze. But then my eyes shift over Reagan’s shoulder and connect with Niethal’s as he leans against the doorframe with a smug smile.
I drop the flames and they wink out of existence, leaving a slight tingling sensation on my skin. Niethal pushes off the doorframe and strolls into the room. “I am impressed, my dear. You’re progressingmuchfaster than I ever expected.”
Ellis and Reagan startle and scramble to bow before him.
“Niethal,” I mutter and fold my arms across my chest.
When he smirks, a sudden desire to smack him flares inside me.
“Leave us.” The command to the two guards rolls off his tongue without him ever breaking my stare.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” they respond together, bowing deeply before walking out of the room and leaving us alone.
Great.
Niethal closes the distance between us, stopping right in front of me. “If you continue progressing at this rate, you’ll be able to perform the ritual in no time.”
Sweat beads on my forehead and I wipe it, but then notice the back of my hand comes away smeared with soot. When I glance at my dress, singe marks mar the front, presumably from the falling embers of my fireball display. I’m in desperate need of a bath.
“If we’re done here, I’d like to return to my room and get ready for dinner.”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he brushes past me and heads to the weapons racks along the back wall. “You can control your magic now, which is good.” He picks up a fearsome double-edged dagger and holds it up to the light, admiring it. “But I want you to use it as you would a weapon. Use it to fight and defend.”
A thrill of fear shoots through me. “I’ve never fought anyone. I’m not sure what to do.”
He twirls the blade in my direction. “Then I will show you.” He rushes forward and stabs toward my stomach, and I react on instinct and spin away. He shakes his head and frowns. “I don’t want to dance, Grace. If I wanted that, I’d take you back upstairs to the ballroom. Fight me with your magic. Defend yourself.” He moves forward again, swinging the blade in an arcing motion, aiming for my head. My hands lift to block the blow, but it never comes.
Fire bursts to life in front of my face, forcing Niethal to pull his hand back or risk being burned by the small barrier between us. A slow smile builds on his face, growing until his dimple appears. “Better,” he says and lunges, stabbing toward my chest.
I lower the flame wall with one hand and form a fire whip in the other. The whip cracks, snapping through the air toward his leg but misses as he bounces away.
Damn it. He’s quick.
But a grin pulls across my face as a small puff of smoke rises from the leg of his pants.
He follows my gaze and raises an eyebrow, nearly purring when he says, “Very good, indeed.”One moment, he’s across the room—the next, he’s behind my flame wall with his blade under my chin, point pressed in ever so slightly. He’s so close the warmth of his breath fans my cheek as he whispers, “Naturally dangerous, just how I like it.” He leans in, giving me every opportunity to stop him, but I don’t. My flames extinguish and my mind quiets as his mouth presses against mine, and I part my lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss. Every stroke of his tongue sends a wave of pleasure through me, and I pull him closer, molding my body to his. He tastes like wine, and I’m drunk on him.
Dagger still in hand, he slips the other around the nape of my neck and tugs on my hair, parting our mouths only enough to meet my gaze. “You aremine, my dear. I won’t let you go so easily.” Our mouths collide again, and we walk backward until my back is pressed against the wall, pinned between the stone and him. The kiss scorches as his tongue moves in rhythm with mine, and when he shifts his hips, I can’t quiet the moan that escapes me. His teeth playfully nip my bottom lip before he pulls away. “The things I would do to hear that sound over and over again.” His hand brushes my cheek, fingers trailing the slope of my neck. “You have changed everything.” His gaze falls on my mouth before kissing me again.
At some point in our backward walk, he must have dropped the dagger because, with his now free hand, he grips the back of my thigh and parts my legs, giving himself access to the fire between, and I melt into him. It’s intoxicating: the smell of his skin, the feel of him in my arms. My hands ache to explore, to touch the growing hardness between us. As my palms run over his sleeves and down to his forearm, my grip tenses. The wheels in my lust-addled mind sluggishly spin.