Page 44 of Wicked Thieves
Though now she was paying the price for obeying him. For being afraid.
“You blame your father for never teaching you how to control your power but was the urge there to begin with?”
She wanted to refuse that Adan had been right about her. In spite of what she thought, her reluctance to hone her powers only proved he was right.
Determined to prove the dolt wrong—and the part ofherself that had willingly become docile for so long—she reached for the knife. Using the sharpened edge, she sliced into the pad of her pointer finger just enough to draw blood. Closing her eyes, she did as Adan had instructed her before. She waited, willed it to come. When it did, arriving to her in a soft fluttering of life, she concentrated. Followed it through the dark as she stood in the empty cavern of her mind. Listening until?—
A smile crept across her lips as a warm light swirled before her excitedly like a firefly. She reached her hands out and watched as the light settled onto her palms. Bringing it closer, she distinguished the fluttering of a heart.
Excitement, joy, a bit of mischief.
A child.
She wondered how many times she would need to practice before she’d be able to distinguish who the fluttering belonged to, if it belonged to Luca or another child. Not long after, the pulse traveled farther away until she was standing alone in the dark once more.
Moving through its shroud, she eventually came upon another heart. The color a vibrant green, full of life. Strong and sure. She had a feeling she knew this one.
“Henry…” she murmured, her voice an echo.
She kept at it until she found five more heartbeats. Unlike with Henry, the others hadn’t been familiar.
A twinge of pain reached the back of her head, a warning she was reaching her limit, and she pulled away. Slowly opening her eyes, her vision blurring as it adjusted to the sunlight pouring in her room from the window.
It had been a small amount of progress, but one she would gladly take. If Adan were here, he would have scoffed andordered her to do it again. Possibly throw a fist at her face for good measure while she was in the middle of it. If anything, his lack of belief in her was enough to fuel her. To show not only Adan but prove to herself that she could do this. For Enid, sheneededto do this.
Satisfied with what she had managed to accomplish, she slid off the bed and wandered into the bathroom. It was small and more than enough for one person, consisting of russet parquet tiles that matched the color of the dark oak walls. The countertop held a basin with water and a long mirror seated to face the sunken bronze tub situated in the heart of the bathroom.
Dipping her hands into the basin to wash away the blood, she watched as red wisps traveled through the water before fading away. Once the bleeding stopped, she made to grab the basin to toss out the water when something moved in the mirror in front of her.
She nearly dropped the basin as a dark figure stood behind her, wrapped in the shadows. Spinning around, heart in her throat, she scanned the bathroom in its entirety, only to find that there was no one there.
Releasing a breath, she shook her head as she turned back to the mirror. It was just a trick of the light, nothing more. Only fears she had yet to uncover. Ones that she could not truly make sense of ever since seeing the Weaver in her cottage.
There was no denying that the night in the Forest of the Dead had remained with her. The horrific sight of the Weaver’s sallow face and overwhelming power remaining imprinted firmly in her mind. Following her even in her dreams. Dragging her out with a scream lodged in her throat, feeling hundreds of threads of power tightening around her so vividly, as if theWeaver’s power had remained stitched within her soul ever since that night.
Since then, however, she was unable to shake this feeling of something festering within her. As if when she’d spilled her blood upon the Weaver’s rune, the curse had begun to fester further. Faster. The ache behind her eyes making her sensitive to the light. Shadows appearing where they shouldn’t…
“One conjuring and you’ve gone and started seeing things,” she muttered just as she heard a knock at the door. She quickly set the basin down and hurried out of the bathroom.
“Anya? It’s me, are you in there?”
Castian.
Easing the door open she found the prince standing in the hall with a hesitant smile on his face. “I hope I am not disturbing you.”
Shaking her head, she stepped out into the hall. “Are you feeling well enough to be walking about?”
“Moving would do me some good after being a useless lump for days on end.” He laughed weakly. His complexion looked slightly better, which was a good enough sign. The dark circles still visible. But somehow, he still managed to smile at her. Kept that boyish charm and sincerity that was so rare to witness. “Would you like to accompany me for tea downstairs?”
“You have perfect timing. I was about to come fetch you. The tonic I prepared for you is ready,” Anelize said.
Castian winced as he said, “Can you guarantee it will be better than the last one?”
“Sure.”
He eyed her skeptically and she merely blinked at the prince innocently. Releasing a sigh of defeat, Castian followedher downstairs to the kitchen. Muffled voices could be heard beyond the door, only falling silent when she pushed it open and noticed there was a man she did not recognize sitting with Henry at the table. The man looked to be in his mid-fifties with short chestnut brown hair and a strong jaw, his nose crooked as though it had been broken a long time ago.
Henry looked pleased when he spotted her and Castian. “You two. Come here and take a seat.” When they obeyed, he nodded to the man at the table. “Anya, meet Gabriel. He serves as a scout, passing on messages between the rebels scattered throughout the city. And a good friend of ours.”
