Page 86 of Thorn Season
Keil froze. And though I couldn’t feel it anymore, I knew his specter had paused, too.
All my life, I’d wanted to meet another Wielder. Now Keil was in front of me, and there was a distance between us—one I hadn’t allowed myself to cross because we were competing on opposite sides.
But for one night, I wanted to indulge the tenderest part of myself—the part I’d always had to secure with thorned defenses. The part that never could’ve thrived in a kingdom that wanted my blood.
Tonight, I didn’t want Keil to be my rival.
So I stepped closer, my layered skirts brushing his knees. And despite how exposed we were atop this balcony, despite my own better judgment, I whispered, “Show me.”
The world stilled again, only our quiet breaths and the bobbing lanterns filling the silence.
Then Keil’s specter coiled between my fingers. I didn’t twitch; the rippling pressure was familiar now, akin to the warm feel of his skin. He guided my hand upward, then lifted his palm to face mine. His power flowed through the inch of space between us, twining our fingers and wrists, thrumming with the pace of Keil’s quickening heartbeat.
Locking a specter away would be like going through life holding your breath, he’d once said. He was right. My specter strained inside me, yearning to exhale—to comb through his power like fingers through sand.
“How does it feel?” I breathed, aware of the moment’s fragility.
Keil said, just as quiet, “That’s like asking how it feels to move anarm. There’s no separation. The specterisme.”
Was that how I felt? After years of leashing my specter—of bending it to my will—I’d come to think of it as an entity separate from myself. The specter was mine, but it was notme.
It felt like something I should’ve been sad about.
Keil studied my face. “Would you choose to have it if you could?”
I faltered, an odd sense of guilt creeping over me. Because, once again, Keil was baring himself. And once again, I couldn’t bring myself fully to do the same.
So, coming as close as I dared to honesty, I mentally rephrased his question: Would I give up my specter? I didn’t think so, and yet... “I would always be afraid,” I said. “Always Hunted for the crime of being born.” I swallowed, dislodging the admission from my throat. “I could never be happy as a Wielder. Not in the ways that mattered. It would...hurtto keep a part of myself inside.”
As I spoke, I realized I’d never verbalized my experience so openly. That these words to Keil—even wrapped in a half-truth—might be more than I’d given anyone.
Keil slowly shook his head, unaware of my confession, yet still somehow enraptured. “It’s never been that way for me. Where I’m from, there is no crime in existing. A specter isn’t something to be ashamed of. It’s a gift. And gifts should never hurt.”
My specter squirmed for release—a near-cruel contradiction to the tender resonance of his words. Because if I ever explored the depths of my power as Keil did, if I ever learned to love it... I feared I would lose the will to confine it.
Embracing my specter was the most dangerous thing I could ever do.
And so I never would.
“That’s beautiful,” I whispered with an aching smile, drawing my power painfully back.
Keil’s head slanted, his specter lapping further across my hand. A warm, questioning touch that brought out a breath of my laughter, turned my smile into something truer.
“I love those,” he said, and I paused. I was about to ask what he meant when Keil’s specter suddenly spiraled up my arm and lifted off, knocking the hanging baskets on the balcony above. Powder-pink apple blossoms rained over us, tickling my nose, and I laughed again—trulylaughed—the sound carrying on the breeze.
When I turned back to Keil, my pulse stuttered. Because his gaze drew between my cheeks, his expression soft and starved all at once.
I love those.He’d been talking about my dimples, pinching deep whenever I smiled.
“I wonder,” he murmured, still looking me over with an intensity that warmed my skin, “if it’s your Hunter’s blood that makes you unafraid.”
I glanced across his lipstick-spattered face. “You want me to fear you, looking like that?”
“Never,” he said quickly, then continued, more gently, “I never want you to fear me.”
My heartbeat skipped again, my traitorous body leaning toward his. Keil’s eyes swooped down me, noticing the incline, which only made my breaths come out faster. “Why not?” I asked.
He hesitated, seeming at war with himself. Probably realizing, like me, just how dangerous this was.
