Page 146 of Frost and Death
“I don’t use my magic as often as you think,” he comments, as if knowing my thoughts.
“Sureyou don’t,” I blurt, my mind reeling over every interaction I’ve had with this man, questioning my own feelings and bodily reactions.
He has used his abilities on me, and I know what it felt like in the moment, but what if there were other times I haven’t?
We come to the end of the alley, I flick my eyes left and right, waiting for Jerrick to guide us in the next direction. But when he doesn’t move, I tilt my head up.
The pale blue eyes I’ve grown used to seeing most days are not visible. Instead, his head is lowered, and he is avoiding my gaze.
He removes his hand from mine as if it was burned.
“I know what it’s like to have something control you. I-I just killed a man.”
His voice is solemn in the quiet.
The admission and lack of Jerrick’s warmth cleaves at my heart. But I stand there, finding myself waiting for something within me to change. To have my questions answered and feel disdain or dislike for the quiet king in front of me.
But nothing happens…
Instead, there is a tug of understanding settling that his curse, and our powers connect us in more ways than I had considered. Not only that, but this man before me has offered me answers, given me everything he could regarding my mother and father, and has given me more knowledge about my gifts.
We have made no progress on his curse, and, yet he still has done this without any reward.
For me.
A quiet whisper resonates in my rib cage, my gut flipping, shaking my entire core as my trust and understanding for this king—this man—in front of me grows.
I exhale shakily, my stomach still reeling as I take another leap.
Reaching for his hand, I force his long fingers to latch onto mine once more. When our hands are linked, I wait, trying to sense the shift in my emotions and in my blood with him now touching me. Relief floods me as my emotions and feelings remain intact.
I run my fingertips in circles along his hand in our mutual silence, a comfort I hope will let him know I understand that small vulnerability. “I know,” I whisper.
It isn’t until his eyes meet mine that my heart skips.
“I-I try not to—you know,killpeople,” he confesses.
“I know,” I repeat.
His curse controls him, and his magic and his feelings about it match my own for my abilities.
“Do you, though?” he asks worriedly, as if I cannot relate.
I tuck a loose wisp of black hair away from his eyes, his scar shining for me to admire as I smile softly. “I do.”
Jerrick takes a long breath as my favorite smile of his illuminates his entire face. His dimple scrunches his scar in all the right places, and my own lips tug up into a wide grin at the sight.
We turn to venture on, and children run across the new street, playing with sticks, touching each other, and running in circles. Nostalgia waves through me at the interaction, remembering games from my childhood that Runa and I would play together.
I shudder at the thought of ruining children’s lives with my cursed winter.
Manifesting my gifts beyond myself is like starting back at the beginning, and I can’t help but wonder if drawing a large amount of magic will drain me.
If what I am already doing is exhausting, will there be a way to melt it rather than remove winter from Axidoria?
I’ve not made enough progress in learning about my abilities, and if I am going to avoid that elderly man’s prediction, I need to push myself and find my limits. I halt my steps, looking at Jerrick with another question playing on my lips, hoping it will keep me focused on the present.
“Have you ever been able to give rather than take with your abilities?”
