He’s a Bloodstone.
We hate one another, or at least, we’re supposed to loathe one another.
Now this. Acknowledgement. Gratitude. My real name!
“You must forgive Luc,” Gabriel says after a moment. “Praxis is his cousin, and he has very few people left that he cares about.”
“I understand,” I say, my voice soft. “And I cannot fault him.”
I know what it’s like to only have a few people I care about. Mother was my light, and the nights have been so dark without her.
“Sol.” Gabriel’s tone draws my attention back to him. “You cannot tell people about using gifts here. At least not yet.”
I rub my cheek and nod. “I know. Otherwise, everyone would run to me for all their ailments.”
It would become overwhelming. I have seen it in villages I visited. A Kyanite healer showed up, and people came from miles seeking healing.
Torchlight dances across Gabriel’s face as he speaks. “Partially, yes.”
“What is the other reason?”
Loose black strands fall over Gabriel’s forehead as he hunches forward and stares down at Praxis. “Most Bloodstone people fear magic.”
“Oh. I don’t want them to fear me.” I lick my bottom lip and continue. “I want to earn their respect.”
I have no choice. Without their respect, I’ll never get close enough to their leader to carry out my mission. It doesn’t matter what I really think about them. Nor does it matter that I want to avenge their cruelty toward Kassandra. All that matters is sticking to my course. I have come too far.
“Then keep this a secret for now.” Amber shadows play across Gabriel’s face as he pours a goblet of tea and sits near the still sleeping Praxis.
A comforting silence falls over us as I join Gabriel. I shut off the questions ricocheting inside me, all the ones mystified by healing Praxis. I can analyze everything later. Instead, I focus on Gabriel and smile.
He called me Sol.
ChapterThirty-Four
Warmth devours every inch of my skin. At least, that’s the way it feels, like a devouring. I exhale, relishing in the heat.
As a child, I spent winters tucked close to my younger sister, Aniah. She’d always sneak her arm around me during the night. Often, I’d protest. Until one morning, she didn’t put her arm around me, and she didn’t keep the icy cold from touching me. She was the icy cold.
My breath suspends as I tuck away those thoughts. Her memory cannot touch me here. It’s too raw. Too painful.
Instead, I open my eyes and stare at the man next to me. Golden rays spill through the windows, framing his strong features. Gabriel is always gone by now, as if at the sight of sunlight, he cannot abide to stay near me.
I don’t dare move my legs from his. If I do, he may pull away and gaze at me with condemning eyes. He’ll think this is all my fault, even though he’s the one lying in the center of the bed. Usually, he sleeps close to the edge.
Jealousy seizes me at the way the sun skips across him, highlighting the muscles on his torso. My fingers itch to follow the same path, to touch him, to feel his skin beneath my fingertips.
He called me Sol.
A smile pulls at my lips as I think about the moment the day before. Something changed in him. Something no longer seeing me as a threat. Or at least, he seemed to let go of his battlements. Gone was his shield, his hatred, his bitter tongue.
Hair spills over my shoulders as I rise to get a better look. War scarred him, leaving patchworks of bravery on his skin. Each one tells his story. He has a long, faded scar on his chest and a scattering of smaller marks across his shoulders.
As if feeling my gaze, Gabriel’s eyes open, catching on mine, and my pulse thunders in my ears.
“Good morning,” I say in a soft voice.
“Sol.” He runs his fingers through his dark hair, unsettling the strands.
