Page 45 of Of Blooming Embers
My fingers had slipped over the bottom of my chin and mouth. “Yaya, thank you, truly. You’re quite the storyteller.”
She grinned. “Historian, my dear. It’sourhistory. And we’ve been figuring out where to go from it ever since.”
18
I AM YOU AND YOU ARE ME
SERYN
The power between my palms wobbled, and I grimaced. My heart smacked against my ribs, more with frustration than fear. Practicing under the Augur’s continual guidance had consumed the last fortnight. Had I made progress? I believed so. More than I had when I’d worked with it during the last Dormancy, to be sure.
The twirling, prismatic orb whirred and hummed, and, in response, I huffed. I’d rather be honing my dagger-tossing skills. At least I could do something well.
My thoughts meandered to the times over the last few days when Gavrel and I had practiced. I bit my bottom lip, imagining his warm body behind my back. His thick arm lay upon mine as he adjusted my wrist before I let the blade fly dead center into the heart of whichever doombark I was aiming for.
I jerked my head, trying to dislodge the wayward curls tickling my cheeks.What was the point of a damned braid if my hair always escaped it?My mouth scrunched to one side, and I blew a puff of air at the stubborn strand.
My power buzzed irritably, bringing my focus back to my weaving fingers. There were plenty of places to toss my uncontrolled creations safely. But I was sick of wasting everyone’s time. Tired of my energy snapping at the bit I placed between its teeth. I looked over, and another blasted toad was gawking at me.Hop along, you judgey bunghole.
Or maybe it thought I was its brethren, since greenish mucksap was slathered over my exposed skin. Trying to nip me through the liniment, the annoying little bugs were excessive today. I glared at the amphibian.Do your job and eat these little fuckers.
“Child.” The Augur slapped at the air from her porch, and my flailing ember orb zipped from my fingers and into the water several feet behind the toad. The ensuing explosion startled him, and he croaked irritably before diving into the murk.
“Concentrate.”
“Iam.”
She frowned, her wrinkles drooping over her gaunt cheekbones. Her bony fingers steepled in front of her mouth. “You and your ember are one and the same.”
“That’s what you’ve said,” I mumbled.
“Then believe it. Otherwise, it’ll continue to overpower you. Continue whispering its basest hunger in your ears.” Her displeasure pulled the corners of her mouth further, and she hobbled into her hut while throwing her hands into the air.
Mockingly, the colorful wildlife painted all over the boards of her home stared at me. My shoulders slumped as I climbed atop the porch and sat beside Gavrel. I turned to him, sensing his eyes on me.
His brows lifted as he tucked a loose strand behind my ear. The deep green of his eyes shone boldly from his mucksap-covered face. “What do you feel when your ember takes over?”
My bottom lip pushed into the top one as I looked at the chalky sky. “I don’t know.”
“Try.”
My cheeks puffed out as I released a frustrated exhale. I looked atmy fists clenched in my lap. Uncurling my fingers, I swiped my thumbs over the base of each forefinger.
From the corner of my eye, Gavrel pressed his lips together for a moment as he waited patiently. The man had a bottomless well of perseverance.
I sighed. “Fear. Doubt. Rage.”
He nodded. “And your meditations work. Until they don’t.”
“Until they don’t,” I agreed. “I’m failing. Kaden. You. Me.” I dug my nails into my thighs. “Everyone.”
He covered my hand with his left, and my fingers relaxed. “You’re not a failure. You’ve made plenty of strides. I wonder what would happen if you simplygave into your ability. Communed with it rather than trying to fight it.”
A half-laugh, half-huff burst from my lips. “I tried that during the trials, and look where that got me.”
“You said you felt rage and fear. But the moment doubt sinks in is when it all falls apart. I’ve seen it in your eyes. In Surrelia. Here.” I looked at him then. The crease between his brows deepened. “It isn’t something to chain or run away from. It’s something to embrace. To partner with. It’s … it’syou. And that’s more than enough.” My chin dipped, but his right hand cupped it and gently pushed my head up. “You are more than enough.”
As his hand fell, my pulse sped up, and my nape tingled at his words. Was he right? Was I so terrified of what I’d done and what I might become that I was holding myself back?
