Page 34 of Obsidian and Frost
God,he was a true force. So much raw power. So much rawpassion. Even when it came through as anger, it was really passion at its root. He cared so deeply about so much. And with the way he carried that, people often didn’t see that truth beneath the rest.
The intensity coming off him right now clashed with the change in his appearance. He wasn’t wearing his tactical gear.Instead, he’d opted for a softer, more toned-down and relaxed look. Kind of calming and casual—although that wasn’t coming through with the whole arm-wrestling thing that seemed to be far more than just a fun challenge to him. He was wearing a forest-green hoodie open and over a blank tank that clung to the cut of his chiseled chest. His cargo pants were gray and utilitarian, not militant like those tactical pants of his.
“The wolf hybrid seems to be working out some frustrations.”
I blinked at the sound of Sylas’ voice, and he had me looking away from the arm-wrestling scene, and turning to him, as we still held the shimmering cloaking spell over us.
We were unnoticed, protected and concealed all the while the spell remained.
And while I’d needed that to get through the door and step through intoThe Fadespace, now that we were here, now that I saw there wasn’t a specific crowded area and that everyone was spread outanddoing their own thing, already immersed, I didn’t need it.
“Thank you for this,” I told him. “But I’m good now.”
“Happy to help.”
He went to pull his hand from mine and end the spell, but I held fast.
As his gaze snapped to mine in surprise, I said, “Why did you really help me? Flirtation aside. Pity aside. The truth.”
“There was no pity. I don’t like seeing others discounting themselves or uncomfortable in their own skin. And what I said earlier about you was true for me. But you’re right, there was more to it than that.” He shifted his weight. “Your power affected me that day when you were losing control in the Grand Atrium.”
“I remember, yeah.”
“It amplified my magic. Boosted it.”
I arched an eyebrow. “So you did this with me just now to—what—get another boost?”
“No. I wanted to understand your impact on me and where it was rooted. Your abilities are many, so the specific source isn’t obvious to discern.”
“Why would you need to understand it? Are you afraid of my power?”
“Not at all.”
“Why would somebody like you even care about something amplifying your magic or studying that with—oh! There’s something wrong with your power? You’re… damaged?”
He struggled for a moment, but then actually admitted, “Yes.”
He eased his hand free, the spell breaking, the cloaking veil flitting away.
Before I could get another word out or further this intriguing—and worrying—conversation, the energy in the place shifted, people calling out to Sylas, everyone starting to notice us now the spell was down.
The ground rumbled beneath our feet and we both looked to see Lazriel storming across the distance toward us, his irate glare fixed on Sylas.
“Seriously?” Lazriel bit at him as he reached us. “Do youwantto be marked by me? Is that it, necromancer?”
Sylas barely reacted, seeming to be studying him instead.
I laid my hand on Lazriel’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
He trembled at my touch, then sucked in a stilted breath, before actually stepping back from Sylas and coming to me instead. “Nothing. It’s just him antagonizing me. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t seem fine.” I eyed Sylas. “Stop, all right? Do you hear me?”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “Indeed I do.” He gave a bow that was somehow both charming and sarcastic. “As you wish.”
And then he took off deeper intoThe Fade, gravitating over toward the crimson pool where people were calling out for him to join them.
I took Lazriel’s hands, drawing his gaze to mine as he started to glare after Sylas, seething.
