Page 60 of The Kingdom's Reckoning
He had yet to bring up the soul bond topic, and he didn’t plan to. She needed to focus on the task ahead. Especially since Ellie informed him around the fire that Kalisandre refused to use her gift despite Ellie’s protests. When they woke up the next morning, Graeson insisted Kalisandre practice until it was as natural as before.
Graeson understood Kalisandre’s fear. By the gods, how many times had he refused to lean into his god-side over the years because of that same trepidation? When the god took over,the hunger for power and death was overwhelming. If he wasn’t careful, he could lose sight of his humanity. But Kalisandre was stronger than he was.
"If I keep going, I will have nothing left when I see him," Kalisandre argued, her knuckles digging into her hip.
Whenever they stopped to rest, Kalisandre went to work, commanding Ellie and shaping her will. At first, she trembled when she reached for her power. She had nearly thrown up, her complexion turning green. Now she stood strong, and her commands were confident. Still, sweat slicked her forehead and dampened her hair.
The god within stirred, and Graeson dug his fingers into his biceps.
Was Graeson pushing her too much? Possibly. But it wasn’t that she couldn’t handle it. She only needed to believe she could.
"She has been successful in manipulating me so far. A break seems warranted," Ellie said, wiping the dirt from her hands.
"Having you catch a rabbit and cook it is hardly anything to cheer about," Graeson said, eyeing the warrior. Ellie was supposed to be on his side.
"Don’t forget, she also made me get on Nyrri," Ellie added—rather unhelpfully.
Graeson snorted. "You didn’t even fly."
"Whose fault is that?" Ellie whined, pointing at Nyrri, who was currently lying on her back and soaking up the sun.
Graeson struggled to hide his amusement as he recalled Ellie mounting the drakonis. After Ellie chased Nyrri around the clearing they had stopped at, Nyrri had plopped on the ground, refusing to move. Ellie had tried to coax her, promising Nyrri all the rabbits she could desire, but nothing would work. And Kalisandre’s laughing probably hadn’t helped either—although it did make Graeson smile hearing it.
"Fine," Graeson grumbled, conceding. "Rest."
Kalisandre dropped to the ground and sprawled across the grass, releasing a relieved sigh.
Wiping away his smirk, Graeson crouched beside her and rested his arms over his knees. Her eyes were closed as the sun kissed her pink cheeks. Her chest rose and fell at a steady rhythm. When he leaned forward, his shadow fell over her.
She squinted up at him. "What?"
"You lied," he said, narrowing his gaze slightly.
"About what?"
"You aren’t afraid of running out of stamina. After visiting the springs, you practiced on Terin for days. I don’t think you’ve even gotten close to the end of your well." Graeson cocked his head to the side, curious. "Why do you doubt yourself?"
Her shoulders sagged, and her body sank into the ground. "It’s nothing," she mumbled, closing her eyes.
By the deep crease that formed between her brows, Graeson knew it was anything but nothing.
His fingers twitched, the desire to reach out to her buzzing at his fingertips. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me. If you’re nervous, if you’re?—"
"I’m fine," Kallie interrupted. "I can handle it."
Graeson pursed his lips. He stared down at her for a second longer, hesitating. In the end, though, he pressed his palms against his thighs and stood, opting to leave her.
Maybe one day Kalisandre would learn to trust someone with the things that haunted her. Even if it wasn’t him.
Graeson crackedhis neck as the darkness twisted inside him.
The god was eerily silent, but Graeson knew he was watching, observing. Waiting.
He brushed his thumb along the edge of the star. Shifting his stance, he inhaled.
Exhaling, Graeson flew the throwing star at the tree trunk. It struck the tree, and the blade drove deep into the bark.
They had stopped for the night, and he needed something to do before he combusted. He could sense the unrest within himself getting worse and worse as the hours slipped by during their journey. A series of divots were now carved into the trunk, a near mirror of the scars that marked his soul.
