Page 77 of The Deathless One
His brows rose in surprise. “No. But perhaps you aren’t the kind of witch I’ve been expecting you to be.”
“That shouldn’t sting as much as it does,” she muttered.
She’d always been good at everything. She was the princess who was always described as perfect. Exactly what the kingdom needed. A lovely young woman for thebestkingdom.
Even the guards in her castle had felt comfortable walking into her rooms at any point of the day and talking to her about all manner of random topics. They wouldn’t have done that with anyone else. She was welcoming, honest, the person everyone wanted to be around. But she had failed at witchcraft, and that dug underneath her skin.
He took a step toward her and took her hand in his. “This is not a bad thing, Jessamine. There are many kinds of witches in this world, and I believe you are not a ritual witch. Gravesingers are rare, yes, but they aren’t supposed to be able to cast spells. You’re supposed to use me.”
“Isn’t that what we were doing? I have no magic without you.” She lifted both of their hands, shaking them in his face. “This is the only reason I can use magic at all. If there was no connection between the two of us, I’d go back to being the useless princess who was murdered on the day of her wedding.”
He hummed low under his breath. “I don’t appreciate the ‘useless’ addition, but yes. I do believe that our connection is what you are forgetting. You’re trying to do this on your own.”
“That’s the point.”
“No, it’s not. You’re not necessarily asking me to cast a spell. That’s not what you did with Benji. But you are asking permission to use my magic in whatever way you see fit. And in that moment with Benji, you wanted someone to blame. Even as you were casting that spell to rip his memories out, you didn’t want it to be you who was using the magic. Does that make sense?”
She supposed in some twisted way, it did.
She hadn’t wanted to hurt Benji. But at the same time, she had. It was hard to imagine herself as someone who would hurt other people, so she had drawn upon his magic so she could tell herself it was his fault. Not hers.
“So you think I need to use that same logic when dealing with regular spells?” she asked. “That I need to expect it to be you doing the magic, not me?”
“In a way. It can’t hurt to try.” He gestured for her to walk ahead of him. Together, they strode toward a giant stone angel. “This would be considered a particularly advanced spell. I also suspect you are not very good at lighting candles because the thought of it bores you.”
“Am I so transparent?”
“Very,” he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Now, the angel in front of you is nothing more than stone. But stone is malleable, just like the human form is, because stone is nothing more than clay that has hardened. If you ask the earth to do something for you, then it will.”
She stood in front of the angel, imprinting the beautiful sculpture to memory. The face had faded with the years, but the wings were still pristine. Feathers so delicate, she could see the center shaft and the faint etchings of texture on them. The folds of the angel’s dress were so delicate that the sight made her heart skip a beat.
“This is beautiful,” she murmured. “Who made this?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
He sighed, coming up behind her so close that she could feel the heat of him pressing against her spine. “Stop distracting yourself.”
“I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you.”
“You could never.” Hands landed on her shoulders, gently squeezing. “Let’s try this first time with me touching you, yes? A reminder of who you’re drawing the power from.”
She could almost hear her mother’s soul screaming in anger that her daughter was falling prey to such a dangerous god. And yet she leaned into his touch.
His hands were warm now, and she knew the lingering touch wasn’tnecessary. He had been hesitant after she had seen his memories, now that she had revealed the man beneath the mask. But that meant she knew that when he touched her, he wanted to.
So she leaned into him even more. Pressed her back to his chest so she could feel his ribs expand with every breath and sense the stuttering rhythm that changed the moment she wiggled against him.
Flush to his body, she could feel the twitch of interest pressing against her bottom.
He leaned down to growl in her ear, “Focus on the angel, nightmare.”
Sighing, she focused on the wings. She zeroed her mind into the touch of his hands on her shoulders, and she let her soul yearn for whatever it wanted.
Right now, she wanted to give this angel life. She wanted to see what natural magic coursed through the stone that had been locked away for years. It had been chiseled by a loving hand, by an artist who had seen something to free from a block of nothing.
Just like she was finding that she wanted to free Elric. She wanted to let him out in this realm, and it didn’t matter what madness he brought with him—she just wanted to see him free.
