Page 97 of Sun Elves of Ardani

“You think we can take magic from the obelisk and use it against the magic-eater,” Kadaki said.

“I thinkyoucan.”

She turned to look at him in surprise.

He looked away. “You’ve seen what happens when I try. I don’t have the ability to draw from the obelisk.”

Kadaki looked at the mural, frowning. “We can’t know exactly what they’re doing in the painting. They could be using some kind of magic we don’t understand. Perhaps there’s a spell specifically designed to capture the magic-eater.”

“Whatever it is, it’s connected to the obelisk. And so far, you’re the only one here who has successfully interacted with it.”

“Not only can you safely draw from it,” Neiryn said, “but it seems you have a natural gift for it. We all saw you drawing from it over and over again during the past few days. You never grow tired, and you never get spell fever. Eliyr said he’s never seen someone able to do what you do. That kind of resilience evades even the best mages in Ysura.”

Kadaki glanced at Eliyr, certain that Neiryn must have been making up that last part, but Eliyr didn’t deny it.

“What happened to you in Kuda Varai didn’t break you,” Neiryn said. “It changed you. It made you stronger.”

“So you think I can just…” She waved a hand helplessly. “...kill it? How?”

“By using everything you’ve got all at once,” Eliyr said. “The mural must be showing that you can only kill it by using the obelisk. There’s only one thing the obelisk gives you that you can’t get anywhere else: grotesque amounts of raw power.”

“What sort of spell would I use? Nothing has worked so far.”

“Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Crush it, blow it up, burn it, hit it with lightning. There must be a point at which it loses the strength to put itself back together. You just need to outlast it.”

“It won’t be that simple,” Kadaki said.

“Maybe not. But it’s a better idea than anything else we’ve tried.”

* * *

That night,Kadaki took her usual place in Neiryn’s bedroll, and he rolled to his side to embrace her. A shiver of pleasure went through her as his body wrapped around her.

She always thought he would gloat over her reaction to his touch, but he always said nothing as his nose brushed her hair to breathe her in and he pulled her tight against him. He never shamed her for feeling pleasure.

She liked that there was no speaking involved. There was no pretense about any of it. There was no need to impress, no need to understand hidden meanings, no need to find the words to express what she was thinking and feeling. Each caress perfectly expressed their craving for each other, their desire to please one another, and their trust in each other. Touch alone was enough for them to understand. It was the most honest, open form of communication she knew, and there was something beautiful about it.

His hand roved lazily over her body, working up her ribs with aching slowness before lightly tracing over the curve of her breast, circling inward until he met the tight, sensitive peak. She exhaled softly, squeezing her eyes shut as pleasure stroked through her. He persisted longer than usual today, teasing her until her heart was racing and her underwear was uncomfortably wet and she thought she might die of need.

His hand brushed over the inside of her thigh, inching slowly upward. Her eyes flew open when he came dangerously close to the apex of her legs. Was he really going to touch her there? Right here in the middle of the room, with other people all around?

When his fingers skimmed over the damp spot on her underwear, her entire body twitched in shock. She sat straight up, looking down at him in surprise. His lips curved into an unrepentant smile.

She stood up, pulling the blanket around her shoulders, then jerked her head in a command for him to follow her. He raised his eyebrows, but got up without comment.

She walked along the abandoned streets for several silent minutes, a small mage light bobbing beside them, before she ducked through a doorway into an empty house, then turned to him. He leaned against the door frame, saying nothing, though he could have. His voice was dry but slowly regaining its usual tenor.

She spread the blanket on the ground. A sad excuse for a bed, but it was more than enough for her at that moment.

A crease appeared at the corner of Neiryn’s mouth as he suppressed a smile.

Chapter 27

When had he fallen hopelessly in love with her?

When she’d cried for him? Or during their first fall into the ruins? Perhaps before that, when she’d been so angry over him leaving her that she’d thrown balls of fire at him? Or long ago in Kuda Varai, when they’d slept platonically side by side, night after night? Or in the very beginning, when he’d badgered her into talking to him with the hopes of tricking her into releasing him, and he’d ended up lost in conversation, his ulterior motives forgotten?

He had been magnetically drawn to her since that very first day he’d met her in her healing tent in Kuda Varai. He had not been able to find a way to make himself feel unashamed of pursuing a woman on the opposite side of a war, so he hadn’t pursued. And yet, neither of them had been able to keep away from the other, despite knowing it would be in their best interests. What had resulted was a close friendship that constantly skirted the line of respectability—a coupling in all but name.

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