Page 58 of The Crown of Moonlight
“Are you as good at admitting you need help as you are at killing things?”
He stares at me and sighs.“I’m male, so probably not.But I promise I will try to do better if you promise not to try to give me heart failure the way you did tonight.”
“Fine,” I say, reminding myself that feeling a connection doesn’t mean that I should trust an Ever.That is still who Chyr is, and when we’ve reached Muilean, he’ll be gone.Wind lifts the damp hair at my neck.
“Good,” he says.“Fine.”
Here on the western side of the Pass, the mountain forms a sheer cliff behind us.Already, a faint silver ribbon stretches south below us, moonlight spilling across Loch Seil between rank after rank of darkened hills.It’s still well before dawn, and while nothing stirs on the wide expanse of slope below, watchfires glow red and amber in more than a dozen places, blurring as my eyes tear at the thought of what that means.
Chyr crosses his arms over his chest as he studies them.“The Butcher’s men, or Vheara’s soldiers from Dun Uilleum, most likely.They’re spread out more than I’d hoped.Vheara may be trying to block access to Muilean.”
“It could be more of what we saw at Aknacaery.Those are mainly Domhnall, Camhrain, and Leithe lands.And the Cymbeuls have been trying to steal them since the true queens fell.I wouldn’t be surprised to find the Cymbeul chief has sent his militia out to seize what he can.”
Chyr turns to me, and the tension in his shoulders and the sharp glitter in his eyes echoes what I’m feeling.But he says nothing and strides off instead towards a sheltered spot between the cliff and a mitten-shaped thrust of rock where he builds a fire that won’t be seen.He makes quick work of skinning the rabbit and spitting it over the open flames to cook.Fat hisses, and smoke rises low and thin.
I’m still weak, but both my strength and magic are returning, the way wet peat expands after being compressed.Cautiously, I reach into the earth to draw more magic, but I can’t take more than a shallow pull, as if my body is wrung too tight to hold more than that.
I can’t put off the questions any longer.Not understanding my magic is a danger, and I need to learn.
“Can you tell me how the Veilstones work?”I settle myself beside Chyr with my back against the rock.“Are they giving me more strength for the magic I can already use, or are they giving me access to magic I’ve never had?”
Chyr pivots where he crouches low beside the fire, his eyes widening.Then any trace of emotion is quickly tamped down, leaving his expression blank.“Do you feel like you’re pulling magic through the Veilstones?”
“Not on purpose, but I can feel them when I’m touching you, similar to the way you pushed magic into me earlier.Their temperature shifts, and the hum gets louder.”
He nods.“They run hotter the more they draw, and go cold when my own magic is too drained to attract any.”He flexes his fingers and straightens them again, watching the rings as he speaks.Fat drips from the spit and sizzles as it hits the fire.
I tip back my head, searching for words to explain ideas I don’t understand.“I used to think transforming my dagger was the only magic I had.I’m not sure calming a horse counts—”
“It does.”
“But what I did in the bog today—”
“Did that scare you?”Chyr prompts after I’ve been silent too long.
I bite my lip, still thinking.“When I was eleven, one of the big larch trees fell into a pasture fence in a storm.The mares got out, and Iain came to my father and brothers for help.My mother insisted it was too dangerous for them to go, but Iain and some of the men went out anyway.I snuck away on my own to help, and I found one of the mares sinking in a bog.When I went to lead her out, I became mired as well.I thought we were both going to die.”
“You made the earth obey you then?The way you did tonight?”Chyr asks.The fire reflects through the layers in Chyr’s eyes in a way that makes it seem the fire is caught inside him.
“You asked me earlier if I’d ever depleted my magic.I haven’t thought about that night in years, and I’ve never suspected it had anything to do with magic.But I remember how desperate I was, and then we were free.”I shrug.“I was a child.Children don’t think about what’s possible.I got the mare out, and Iain found me curled on the ground unconscious with her standing over me.It was days before I was strong enough to get out of bed.”
Chyr stares down at his hands.They’re splayed on his thighs, the graceful fingers slightly weathered.“I know what it feels like to empty myself, but I’m Siorai, so I can’t die from it.That wouldn’t apply to you.”
“How do I know I’m using too much?”I ask.
“Stop when it hurts.Sounds simple, doesn’t it?”Chyr catches my chin in his fingers and tips my face so that I have to look at him.“You’re terrifying.Even if you learn your limits, I’ve no doubt you’ll push yourself past them.”
The hold of his fingers is gentle, and his eyes slip down to my lips.Heat from the fire warms the air between us.
Then Chyr drops his hand and shakes his head.Pivoting back to the fire, he turns the rabbit on the spit.“You asked about the Veilstones, and the truth is, I don’t know.How did you learn the trick with the sword?Did someone teach you?”
“I’m starting to wonder if it might have been a Whisperwraith.”
Chyr’s brows shoot up.“Why?”
“My grandmother had healing magic, but that was easy to pass off as knowledge of herbs and salves.The Sun King would have killed her if anyone had known, and my father made me swear never to show anyone what I could do.”My heart squeezes at the memory, at the reminder that he’s gone, and I close my eyes a moment before continuing.
“And the Whisperwraith?”
