Page 129 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
“Well, as long as you’re not staying up late to do it…”
Aislinn pursed her lips, biting back a smile. “No promises.”
Dillon sat by the side of the circle. He didn’t need to sit—he felt like he could stand forever—but with all of the party sitting and most of them only up to his waist when they were standing anyway, he felt somewhat self-conscious. The wargis were all healed and settled now, his fingers were too clumsy to be of much more assistance, and he was at a loss for what else to do.
He needed to speak to Caer about how he’d managed to control him during the battle. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to say—indeed, he was grateful Caer had saved him—but… they should talk about it.
Finally, Caer finished talking to Aislinn.
Dillon lumbered towards him. “Thank you,” he said. “For getting me out of the way.” He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if his body had been broken by falling debris but his head remained intact. Would they have severed it in an attempt to put him out of his misery, or dug him out and scooped him onto a wargi in the hope of finding some way to fix his soupy form? Either option wasn’t fun to think about.
“Don’t mention it,” Caer said, not quite meeting his gaze. “If I crossed some sort of line—”
“Please, always assume I don’t want to be squashed beneath falling stones.”
“Right.” Caer paused. “How did it feel, when I controlled you?”
“Odd.”
“Odd?”
“I can’t feel much, I don’t have a better way of explaining it.” Dillon stilled. “Do I have a life force? Or do I feel like those other dead things—”
“No,” Caer said. “I mean—yes. You have a life force inside of you. Not armoured, like the dwarves, and not quite Beau and Aislinn’s, either. It’s like it’s a different colour.”
“Can you control Ais and Beau?”
He shook his head. “I could… I could snuff them out, if I wanted to, but otherwise…” He ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know how to explain it.”
Dillon’s chest tightened. It could not be easy for Caer, raised with no magic, struggling under the weight of powers no one really understood… powers that meant he couldn’t even touch the girl he—
“Practise on me.”
Caer looked up. “What?”
“You need to learn how to control your powers, right? Practise on me. At very least, you should learn how to control the dead you keep bringing back.”
Caer stared at him. “I… don’t want to kill you again.”
Dillon shrugged. “I would rather stay alive, if I could, but for all we know… I’m living on borrowed time. I think I’d like to do some good whilst I’m still here.”
Caer looked down at his feet. “I’m not so sure I’m worth it.”
“Ais thinks you are,” Dillon said quickly.
“You seem oddly close to her given that you only just met.”
Dillon smiled. “Jealous?”
“I am not going to answer that.”
Dillon laughed. “I’m not interested in her that way, I assure you, but… I don’t know. I feelsomethingtowards her. Same with Beau. Maybe they just remind me of their parents. I just feel like I already know them.” It was akin to the tug he’d felt when Caer’s magic had pulled at his body. That thread, that connection.
Caer nodded. “All right,” he said. “Thank you.”
Minerva called him away to help with something, and Dillon once more found himself alone. He returned to sit beside the wargis. Flora was still patching someone up, which was fine, but he’d be lying if he said his wounds weren’t bothering him. His arm was shredded and he thought a bit of his cheek might be hanging off. He dabbed at it, trying to make it stick back in place.
Luna appeared beside him, brandishing a needle and thread. “Let me.”
