Rylan, on the other hand, lets out a low growl. His gaze lingers on me as I search his eyes for some meaning. What I would give to know what is going on behind those dark eyes, to read what humanity there is left in him. The urge to poke at him, chip away at that icy armour, takes over. I cock my head, giving him a look of exaggerated concern. “What’s the matter, Rylan? Worried someone might think you’re actually capable of having a laugh?”
He narrows his eyes, and his jaw twitches. For a second, I almost feel bad for having purposely needled him. But then the memory of his unnecessarily harsh tone this morning hardens me to him again.
SEVEN
Eirabella
I ridethe whole day with Mathis, and Rylan doesn’t argue. He doesn’t really say much at all, and not a single word to me. It seems the regression to his natural state of grouchy and monosyllabic is total and irreversible.
Once we stop for the night and everyone else is asleep, my mind refuses to shut off, so I try to find the magic within me. But there’s nothing there. I keep trying until I’m damp with sweat, until there’s movement on the other side of the camp, and I watch through slitted eyes as Grellor and Rylan switch guards. Rolling away from the campfire, and from Rylan, who plops down on a log, taking the second watch, I squeeze my eyes shut and wiggle my fingers one last time, hoping for even the smallest trickle of water to appear. But there’s nothing. I sigh and pull the blanket over my shoulders. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.
The next morning, I try to manipulate the water when Ibathe in the freezing cold stream, but it simply moves as nature intended and cares nothing for my glares. My fingers wiggle at my sides at breakfast, trying to cause even the tiniest ripple in the water boiling in the pot for tea. But there’s nary the tiniest whisper of movement. If Mathis was right and my power is the strongest he’s seen, then where is it? Did I already use it up saving Janus and Kahlia? If so, then it was worth it. But I can’t help feeling disappointed that I didn’t get to experience it for longer.
Once camp is packed up, I mount Mathis’s horse without a glance at Rylan. Yosef and Grellor just shake their heads, sharing a snort as Mathis climbs on behind me with a sigh. Despite the scolding from Rylan the day before, we spend the day telling riddles and jokes, and it helps the time pass by. But by the time we stop for the night in a clearing in the woods, I’m exhausted, my body practically creaking as I slide off Mathis’s horse. What I would give for another hot bath like the one at the inn.
The other guards quickly scatter into the woods to their usual tasks, leaving Rylan alone with me at the campsite. We’ve both become quite adept at avoiding each other, somehow managing to go the whole day without making eye contact, to my chagrin, if I’m entirely honest with myself. I make myself useful, rolling out the bedrolls and extra blankets in preparation for the colder-than-usual night, giving Rylan a wide berth as he fiddles with the fire. Squatting by the flames, he prods the logs with a stick, clearly restless, the flames casting angry shadows over his face.
I’m paying an excruciating amount of needless attention to the straightness of my bedroll when I hear a sharp yell of pain, startling me out of my thoughts. My head whips around just in time to see Rylan jumping up and jerking back from the fire, his shirt sleeve ablaze. Flapping madly, he lets out anothershout, the flames refusing to let him go. My heart jumps into my throat as I realise what’s happening—he’s on fire.
For a moment, I’m frozen, watching in shock as the furious flames crawl up his arm. But then instinct kicks in, and I’m on my feet, rushing toward him. “Rylan!” I shout, the panic in my voice undeniable. He doesn’t answer, his face screwed in concentration as he swats at the flames with his other hand to no avail. Without thinking, I grab one of the blankets laid out on the closest bedroll and throw it over his arm, trying to tamp down the flames, smothering them as quickly as I can. I’m sweating from both the effort and the fear.
The flames eventually extinguish, but when I pull the blanket off, it’s clear the damage is done—the skin of his hand is red and angry, the burn raw and already beginning to blister.
Rylan’s forehead is drenched with perspiration, his jaw clenched tight as he grits his teeth against the pain. I can see the effort it takes for him not to cry out again. “Let me get some ice for that,” I gasp, cradling his arm in my hands.
But he shakes his head. “No. Not ice. Ice is too cold; it can quickly cause frostbite and make the injury even worse. Cold water is better.”
The bottom of my stomach drops. The closest stream is too far from here. I can’t stand the thought of him in this much pain for the time it’ll take to get him there.
“Eirabella,” he rasps, his eyes locking onto mine, intense and desperate. His lips thin as if he’s fighting with himself before he says, “Your strength is water. You can create a stream of cold water over my burn.”
I stare at him, disbelief and confusion washing over me. “What? No. You’re crazy, Rylan. I can’t just make water appear out of nowhere!” Even during the bandits’ attack, Mathis had pulled water from the stream, not out of thin air. I stare at therapidly blistering skin of the hand I’m cradling in my own. Fuck. It must be killing him.
Unlike when I was bandaging his gash, the pain on Rylan’s face is palpable, cracking his usual velvety deep voice. “Please, Eirabella,” he pleads, his voice strained. “Just try. I know you can do it. You just have to focus. Find the magic inside you. It’s there. I-I’ll help you.”
I hesitate, uncertainty gnawing at me. I don’t know how to do this. But the look in his eyes, the desperation, pushes me to try. I take a deep breath, nodding slightly. “Okay,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. “Okay, I’ll try.”
I close my eyes, trying to block out the sight of Rylan’s burned skin, the sound of his laboured breathing. I focus inward, searching for any evidence of magic inside me. But there’s nothing. Anywhere.
“Rylan…” I say, trying not to let the disappointment seep into my voice.
“Look at me.” He grabs my chin with his uninjured hand and forces me to look at him. “You can do this. You’re capable of so much more than you believe. Find the reservoir inside you; it’s there. Deep down. Now close your eyes and search for it with your heart, not your mind.”
I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut.
But in the darkness, all I can see is Samfer towering over me, words and whips lashing out at me in equal measure as he ordered my magic to appear.
No. Stop.Leave,I command the memories.
Instead, I force Rylan’s voice to echo in my mind, urging me to dig in, to imagine the need, to find the reservoir of power he insists is there.
But it’s damn near impossible—my thoughts are a chaotic swirl of doubt and fear. I try to push them away, to concentrate, but nothing happens. I can’t feel anything but the rising panicin my chest. “I’m sorry… I just can’t do it,” I whisper, frustration edging into my voice. “I want to help you, but I…”
“You can,” Rylan says firmly, though I can hear the pain in his voice. “Youhaveto. Imagine the water, Eira. Picture it in your mind. It’s there, in the air around us. You just have to bring it to you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, trying to do what he says.
“Picture rain, if that helps. Raindrops falling from the sky,” he continues to guide me.
