The older fae still isn’t happy about it, but he says nothing further as he returns to his position by the fire.
I follow Leon out of the farmhouse. He leads me toward the collection of other buildings.
“Where are we going?” I ask. He points toward a barn.
“Somewhere you can fall asleep,” he says. “And then I’m going to kick your ass.”
Chapter20
Morgana
Idodge the fist hurtling toward me, feeling the air on my skin as it whistles past my cheek.
Going to sleep in the barn was easy thanks to the surprisingly soft hay and the plant Leon gave me to eat again, but things are no more fun in here—the forest in my dreams—than they were before.
The next fist connects with my arm, forcing a groan from me as I stumble backward. I roll my shoulder, gasping at the pain. It feels like he came just shy of dislocating it. Instinctively, I scramble behind a tree as he whirls around for another hit.
“Stop running and start fighting,” he orders.
“Sorry,” I throw back sarcastically as he stalks toward me. “For some reason I don’t enjoy holding still so I can get beaten to a pulp.”
“Your magic isn’t going to show up unless you start standing your ground,” he grunts. He rounds the tree I’m sheltering behind, kicking out. I roll away just in time, and his foot hits the bark, leaving a crack running through the wood. In real life, I don’t think I’d be quick enough to duck his blows, but at least here in my mind we’re more evenly matched.
“Standing my ground has nothing to do with whether my power turns up,” I shout back breathlessly as I find another tree to throw my back against. “It’s not like I got a choice with Bede. Ididn’tstand up to him—fuck!”
I don’t hear Leon’s approach, so I’m not prepared when he rounds the side of the tree and drives an elbow into my side. I go down like a sack of potatoes, ignoring the ache radiating across my torso as I try to drag myself through the dirt and leaves away from him. At least I’ve managed to avoid getting pulled back into that memory with Bede. Even if that’s what is getting in the way of my magic, I’m glad to not have to revisit it.
“And what happened in the forest, after the trading post?” Leon asks, annoyingly unruffled as he batters the crap out of me.
It’s a fair question, I have to admit. My magic turned up long after those strange men had been hunting me, after the major threat was gone. Why then?
“I was panicking,” I say, glaring at him as he slowly approaches like a mountain lion sizing up its prey. “I mean, I was scared before, but then when Alastor came back…”
“What was it?” he says, pausing. “What did he say that changed things?”
I think back, picturing Alastor describing how I was a wanted criminal now.
“I had nowhere to go,” I say, realization dawning on me. “No way out. I was trapped.”
“And that’s when your magic showed up,” Leon says and lunges.
He grabs me by the straps of my tunic and throws me up against a tree trunk, pinning me there.
“Trapped like this?” he asks, his voice soft and dangerous.
Something knots in my stomach, a new tension I don’t give a name to.
“Get off me,” I bark, struggling against his grip. I think back to the training Will gave me and realize that he went easy on me, possibly giving me a few wins that I didn’t deserve. My feet are hanging off the ground, but my legs are still loose, so I kick out, pummeling him using the balls of my feet so I don’t injure myself. He finally shifts, a tiny flash of discomfort on his face. It’s enough movement for me to get an arm loose, and I shove against him, but it’s like trying to move stone.
My anger flares, a twisting, churning rage at not being able to move, at this bastard for pinning me here. His gray eyes brighten, and I realize this is what he wants. He’senjoyingmy anger.
The rage subsides a little, and a sliver of reason wriggles in. After all, he has to let me go eventually. I stop shoving and kicking, instead going limp. I stop fighting, and now it’shisturn to look angry.
“What are you doing?” he demands. “Stop blocking yourself, Ana.”
I told him not to use that name for me before. His choice to use it now has to be deliberate—another attempt to goad me—but I ignore it.
“I’m not blocking myself,” I argue.
