Page 19 of A Court of Truth and Thorns
“What didIdo?” Raza screeches. “What did that whore do?”
Trace’s hands roam down my arms, stopping at the manacles locked around my wrists. He growls. His hands move on, feeling the instrument beneath my shirt. He grips the wand and unceremoniously chucks it across the tent, then pulls me into his chest.
The crystal is a dull gray.
“Bloody stars, it’s depleted completely.” The horror in Copa’s words ripples like lightning through me. “That’s enough magic to kill ten men.”
Trace’s hold around me tightens. “You used a stim crystal on her?” The rage rumbles like thunder. “How dare you!”
“Enough!” General Hewe’s voice booms over Trace’s. “The stim crystal has its uses in questioning. It has no business in untrained hands. We shall address both of those issues once someone tells me what the bloody hells I am looking at right now.”
“A mage acting on instinct,” Trace growls toward the general.
“Thenun-instinct it. Now.”
I shudder at his tone, even as that word—mage—ricochets inside my head. My body curls in on itself. Mage? No. Bahir is a mage. I’m just an oddity. An anomaly of magic.
Trace’s hold tightens. His forehead presses against mine again, his hands on either side of my head. “You are using magic to bend light into darkness, Kal. I need you to stop,” Trace whispers to me, the thunder beneath his voice so violent, I can feel its vibration. “Control the magic, and yourself.”
“How?” My voice trembles. My stinging bees, my magic, it wants to bedoingsomething.
Trace draws a breath. He doesn’t know. My blood races, washing my insides with panic. How could he know? He’s a whisperer, not a... a mage. The mere fact that I absorbed and used an ex-healingcrystal’s magic to manipulatelightcontradicts the whisperers’ principles.Here is a corollary for you, Leaf. If you manage to extract magic from a crystal and feed it to a mage, a lot of things can happen.
“All right,” Trace’s calm interrupts my panic. “Take a breath. Can you feel where that magic is now?”
I close my eyes, matching my breathing to Trace’s. I feel the stinging bees inside me. “Yes.”
He exhales. “Good. Can you release your hold on it? Stop directing it?” His words flounder for a second, synonyms being offered like keys in hopes that one will match the lock. “Wall it off?”
The last one feels right. The way I visualized myself absorbing the light, I imagine a hive forming around the bees. As the beehive’s edges harden, my darkness—my glorious, safe, wonderful shadow—starts to ebb. I halt, my body trembling in Trace’s arms.
“Keep going,” Trace whispers softly. “You must show the general that you control the magic, not the other way around. If you can’t—” The words catch in his throat, but Iunderstand. I just absorbed enough magic to kill a squad of soldiers. If the general deems me too volatile, he may order me put down like a rabid beast. I allow the beehive cocoon forming around my magic to mature and harden, cutting off the bees’ interaction with the outside world.
Around the tent, gasps confirm my success before I dare open my eyes. When I do, Trace’s dark ones are only inches away. Our breaths mingle.
“Princess Raza,” Wil’s words cut the air as he throws all the authority of a would-be king behind an adolescent, still-forming voice. “Attempting to murder a member of my court is an act of war. Unhand her at once.”
Raza raises her chin. “Last I checked, Your Highness, our nationswereat war. It is you who come here begging for peace and pity. As for the member of your court, as you put it, I find it insulting that you attempt to deceive my people by pretending she is anything but what she is.”
Wil steps toward her, his chest forward. “Lady Kalianna is my cousin, a close member of the royal family. I demand you unhand her at once.” I smile despite myself.
“Or what?” says Raza. Her head cocks to the side. “You demand I unhand her or you shall do what, exactly?”
Trace gives my shoulder a final squeeze and rises, coming to stand beside Wil. “Or,” Trace’s low voice rumbles through the tent, “your day will turn out worse than you can imagine, sister.”
13
KALI
The tent is mute. The general’s and Copa’s confused glances clash with Raza’s sudden frozen silence.
Raza swallows. “Whatever do you mean by that, sir?” Her hesitant stuttering morphs into indignation too slowly. A moment faster and she would have had the power of incredulity on her side. “How dare you—”
“That is enough.” Trace crosses his arms and towers over his sister. Calm. Strong. Too large for the constricting tent. “What’s happened to you, Raza? What in the stars’ name are you doing?”
She retreats a step, strikes the canvas wall, and recoils from it with a snarl. Her good eye glistens with silver tears. “Sonowyou are back? After five years of hiding and war? Not for me, not for Everett, but for this... this harlot?” Raza waves her hand in my direction but keeps her attention locked on her brother. The hand hanging at her side trembles.
“First, her name is Kalianna,” Trace says.
