Page 52 of The Path of Blood and Betrayals
He grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Our magic doesn’t work like that,” he breathes, words soft. “It doesn’t rely on our strength. It is a being all on its own, with its own triggers and capabilities. From what I’ve seen of you, kitten, your power is not something you can control with simple drills.”
Something akin to relief washes over me. It’s oddly soothing to speak to someone about my magic, about what helps and doesn’t.
It’s nice to feel understood.
But he’s a Dark Fae. They’re not to be trusted.
Shaking my head, I whip away from his grip. “Don’t touch me again.”
He smirks, a fang dropping over one lip. “I’m pretty sure there will be a day—very soon, in which you’ll practically beg for it.”
Flipping him off, I meet Tay across the clearing to a community table, my chicory beverage and ewe’s milk already warmed in his hands.
He glares over my shoulder at the departing heir, mouth tight. “What was that about?”
“Nothing,” I lie, taking the cup. “Ready?”
Nodding, he directs me to the side where a small footpath takes us further into the woods. Inside, the forest eats up light, only our footsteps the only noise around us.
“Is this safe?” I ask, finishing my drink.
My friend shrugs. “Nothing about what we’re doing is safe. But the Dark Fae said to stay in groups. I think with both of us a few paces away, we’ll be fine.”
We stop at a clearing, the rushing creek behind us a melodic song that lowers the tension in my shoulders. Tay pulls out his sword, gesturing for me to take out my daggers.
“Out here, you should be able to focus without the call of your magic.” He removes his vest, broad chest shadowed by the overhead brush. “You should work on relying on weapons instead of your powers.”
“You’re only saying that because you don’t trust me.” I unclasp my cloak, hanging it on a branch.
“Would that be wrong?”
Yes. “No.”
Out of anyone, it’s Tay I always wanted to trust me, to see the good in me. But he’s still frightened, unsure of what I can do.
I can’t blame him, but it doesn’t stop the ache from blooming in my chest.
We start slow, moving around, working on footwork. It’s not much, but it keeps my mind clear as I worry about my next step and not the emotions threatening to spill. At how Taylay doesn’t understand me.
And with just a few simple words, it seems like the heir does.
Focus, Max.
Taylay swings his sword and I parry, blocking with my blades crossed. Soon, we’re fighting, foot steps kicking up dirt, metal hitting over and over. Without words, we’re expressing our frustration—him at me for not being better, and me at him, for not getting me.
The final hit knocks me to the ground, laying on my back, hair plastered to my face as sweat drops down my cheeks.
“C’mon,” he cajoles, holding out a hand. “We can go a few more rounds. It’s past lunch.”
“Don’t we need to move soon?” I ask, chest heaving. I ignore his hand, pushing myself up on shaking legs.
Tay huffs, wiping his brow. “No, we’ve got one more night before we continue on. The guides say it’s worth waiting.”
Odd that the Fae would have us wait another day if they’re so ready to be done with us, but maybe they know something I don’t.
He waves me forward but I sheath my daggers. “I’m hungry.”
My friends looks ready to fight—but maybe he sees how done I truly am. How irritable I am. How everything feels wrong and yet, I’m still going along anyway. Regardless, he nods, taking me back into the clearing.
