Page 116 of Realm of Wind and Vines
Anger courses through me like crackling lightning. Anger at myself. At the pathetic person I used to be. I was born to do this. Alistair and I can run through a dragon shifter city in very conspicuous cloaks without people even thinking twice about it because I can manipulate them into not feeling suspicious. I possess incredibly powerful magic, and I’m incredibly skilled at using it. I should never have let the fae resistance keep me stuck as a lookout.
Instead of being so concerned with other people’s opinions, with wanting them to like me, I should have just marched into our leaders’ meeting and demanded my place among them. Demanded respect and responsibility.
So much wasted time. So many wasted opportunities. Just because I wanted to be liked. Just because I wanted people to approve of me and accept me.
But growing up the way I did, it was impossible not to seek that approval. In school, our teachers taught me that everything bad that has ever happened in the history of this continent was my fault. That I was wicked and cruel and that I needed to atone.
And on top of that, my parents also?—
Pain and regret slam into me with such force that I feel like my chest caved in. Stumbling a step to the side, I have to throw out my arm and push off against the wall to straighten myself as I continue to run. I can feel Alistair glance at me in silent questionwhere he is running next to me, but I can’t concentrate enough to even look at him.
The street around me blurs as I try to focus through the agony-filled regret that tears at my chest like vicious claws.
That unfinished sentence echoes inside my skull.
And on top of that, my parents also hated me for ruining their marriage.
Or they didn’t.
I will never know.
Regret squeezes my lungs, strangling every drop of air from them. I try to suck in a desperate breath, but I can’t make my chest expand. It feels like my chest is trapped in a massive vise which just keeps tightening.
Releasing my grip on my magic, I stop lowering people’s suspicion and instead summon an emotion from nothing. This time, I don’t choose a positive emotion such as joy. No. This time, I summon a black flame of despair and slam it right into the closest dragon shifter’s chest while Alistair and I run past.
That warm sparkling pleasure immediately floods my entire body. I suck in a deep breath as that horrible strangling sensation finally disappears from my chest.
On the street behind me, the dragon shifter lets out a sob of despair. I cast a glance at him over my shoulder as we continue down the road. He crumples to the ground with another sob, pulling attention away from me and Alistair and instead drawing it to himself. That wasn’t the reason I chose despair, though. I did it because he deserved it. It’s high time that the Silver Clan feels what the rest of us have been forced to endure under their rule.
I continue increasing his despair for another few seconds before I manage to sever the connection. The more I create emotions from nothing, the harder it becomes to let them go.
“You okay?” Alistair asks in a casual voice that somehow holds absolutely no judgement at all.
Mabona’s tits, I really did misjudge Alistair when I first met him back in the Seelie Court.
“Yeah,” I reply as we round a corner. Then I nod towards a house halfway down the street. “This is it.”
“Alright. Same plan as we talked about?”
“Same plan.”
“I’ll wait two minutes.”
I nod and then take a sharp right into a narrow alley while he continues straight ahead. Darting between two tall stone houses, I slip around the row of buildings so that I’m instead approaching our target from the back.
My chest heaves from the long run and the temporary issues I had with breathing, so I slow to a walk once I get closer to the house up ahead so that I can properly scan the area for threats. While drawing in deep breaths to calm my thrumming pulse, I study the buildings around me. They look empty. I shift my gaze to my target building as it appears before me.
Ferver Osteria, the leader of the scouts, lives in a two-story house with a sizeable garden and a stone fence around it to give him privacy from his neighbors. Though according to Draven, it’s not actually Ferver’s house. It’s Papa Osteria’s house. Apparently, the powerful leader of the scouts has no interest in starting a family of his own, so he still lives with his parents and his younger sister, despite the fact that both he and his sister are over two hundred years old.
I flick a glance over the well-kept lawn and the immaculately trimmed bushes and artfully planted flowers as I edge open the back gate and sneak through the garden. Someone either loves gardening or has way too much time on their hands.
The back door is locked, but thanks to Draven’s earlier tutoring, I manage to get it open with a pair of lockpicks.
Cheerful voices drift out as I edge the back door open and slip inside.
“Can you hand me the bowl?” a woman’s voice calls.
I close the door softly behind me while clanging and clinking sounds echo from what I assume must be the kitchen.
