Page 44 of The Lost Fae
Lincoln doesn't move, but relief floods him when I speak. "It's a rare gift. A gift that many Fae fear. Sometimes I even fear myself." He swallows. "You have to be careful, always, Briar. If you let your emotions get the best of you while you're inside someone's head, you'll end them. If you flex your magic too hard, you'll break them."
I listen to the sound of the ocean breaking around the boat in the small silence that follows. Lincoln keeps one hand on the helm and turns to face me.
"Barnabus and the others are not well versed in protecting themselves against it. That makes it easier to get into their heads and put them to sleep."
"What did they want from me?"
He holds my gaze. "The magic in that amulet only grew for twenty-two years while it waited for you. You're not only able to touch people’s minds... I think... they think... you can heal, too."
I look down to my feet, scuffing the toe of my boot on the deck. A goofy, childish grin tilts my lips. When I finally return my attention to Lincoln, I laugh. Because what else am I supposed to do? I can't hardly fly. I'm a beginner at this mind connection business. Changing my clothes or using my magic to move things makes me break out in a full body sweat, and now they are trying to tell me that I can also heal people.
Not only does that sound complex, but it sounds... draining. What would Barnabus have expected me to do? I wouldn't know how to heal anyone if I wanted to.
"What’s so funny?" he asks.
I laugh a little louder. My arms wrap around my stomach holding myself together as I bend over. Only when tears build in my eyes do I try to control myself. I straighten myself, but bite my lip to keep any more rounds of giggles from leaving me.
"This is just wild." My hands tremble as I hold my hood to my face fighting the strong winds that push us out to sea.
Lincoln's face twitches like he's trying to decide how he's going to react to me. His expression goes from confused, to annoyed, to saddened, then finally as if he might join me in a fit of laughter he smiles. I probably look crazy to him right now. After all of this, there is no way I've held on to all of my sanity.
Is this what a mental breakdown feels like? A bubble of giggles travels up from the churning emotions in the pit of my stomach. The bubble bursts as I laugh out loud again. This time Lincoln joins me. The sound he makes is somehow rich and almost soothing. It's entirely Lincoln, and I love it.
"If you would have told me a year ago that I would be on an old pirate ship in the middle of the... Fucking Bramuda Trianglewith wings and the magical ability to not only connect my mind to others, but to heal them as well... I would have told you that would make a lovely novel and continued on with my day, convinced that you have an overactive imagination." My cheeks burn from the breeze that continuously blows. Perhaps what people think is the Bermuda Triangle is simply just one of the many portals from the human realm to here...
Lincoln's laughter dies down, nodding along in agreement. And it's in simple times like these that my love for Lincoln grows a little fonder. These moments where we share laughter, the sun making his eyes glow like burning embers. He brushes his hand along his jaw, rubbing at his beard. A movement so little... so nonchalant, still, somehow I'm falling head over heels all over again.
But we can't forget.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I say, ruining the perfectly good moment.
"I didn't want you to rush into anything." He steps away from the helm. "Can you feel it?" he asks quietly.
"Feel what?"
"The power inside of you. The push and pull of magic, aching to break free."
My body is frozen in this one spot. All of my joints are locked, keeping me directly in Lincoln's path as he trails toward me. He points a finger at my heart, stopping to tap gently against my chest.
"Is there pressure? Like a shaken bottle of soda?" His accent catches all the vowels. Sometimes his voice exaggerates the unidentifiable cadence of his speech.
I stare up at his face, curious what he sees in me. What does thepressureof my magic feel like to him? What did it feel like to Barnabus who was able to recognize my strength?
"Sometimes." I stuff my hands into the pockets of Lincoln's coat and use it to draw him to me. "Sometimes it's like a pit that I can feel myself standing on the ledge of. If I take a step forward, I'll fall to the bottom and never be able to climb my way back out."
"I'll always get you out." Lincoln’s scruff scratches against my cheek.
"I want to help. I want to learn."
His musky scent washes over me. I lean into him further, nuzzling my head into his chest. His wide frame blocks the wind from me. My skin is thankful for the break, though it's already practically numb from the cold. Even leaning into his coat is nearly too rough for my rosey cheeks.
"I knew that you would." Ziko pulls my hands from his coat and leads me down the stairs. We head straight for Beatrice's cabin.
I look around at the great wide ocean around us before stepping inside. "Are we just going to let the boat steer itself?"
"Nothing to hit for miles." He winks as he juts his foot into the hidden storage compartment in the wall.
As the false panel pops open, green light from the prisms that cast their glow throughout the room bounces off the hilt of the weapon. Lincoln pulls the sword out, looking at its blade.
