How spectacular!
“That’s impossible,” I say, knowingIcannot summon anything. Not even a cloud.
“I thought impossible was a word used by those lacking imagination?”
I frown, hating he turned my favorite quote against me.
He meets my eyes, his stare intense, as if he’s willing me to believe in myself. “Lyra, I know you can do it.”
He’s wrong. I cannot. It’s impossible. Especially without proper training.
I look away from him, my mind racing with the consequences of what he’s asking. Summoning a phoenix is not just difficult, it’s dangerous. I have read about it taking over the minds and bodies of people.
“If I try to summon a phoenix, when I have never summoned one before, it could kill me.”
“You have summoned one before. I watched you.”
“That wasn’t me…” I bring my hand to my mouth, squelching the urge to keep talking, to spill everything.
His gaze narrows. “Why did you say that wasn’t you?”
“Because I don’t remember summoning a phoenix,” I say. “I forgot a lot of things after my accident.”
He closes the space between us and pulls me so close, his heat burns through my clothes. “You’re lying about being injured.”
“I’m not,” I squeak out.
“My men had orders to follow you to Sharhavva. You never had a head injury. You were, however, violently ill, but you recovered and returned to Darhavva. So, tell me the truth. What happened to you in Sharhavva? Were you possessed?”
“No.” I bring my hand to his chest, feeling his power beneath my fingertips.
It sends a thrill racing through me instead of fear.
Oh, please let there be fear.
Fear is so much easier than unwanted desire.
He brings his finger to my throat, feeling that erratic throbbing. “Your heart gives you away. It tells me you’re lying.”
“I’m not.” I push against the brick wall of his chest. “Release me.”
“If you aren’t possessed, someone has cast a linking spell on you.” His footsteps echo across the marble as he walks to the door, pushes it shut, and turns the lock.
I back up, bumping into the marble wall.
“Show me your flame,” he says as he turns to face me.
Something about the sharpness of his tone makes me obey without question. I lower my bodice enough for him to observe Lyra’s flame on my shoulder.
He stares at it for several breaths, then jerks his gaze over me. “Show me the other one.”
My mouth falls open as I yank my bodice back up. “There isn’t another one.”
“That is a lie. Show me.”
“There isn’t another one, Jasce,” I manage.
He closes the space between us and stops when his boots touch mine. “Either you can show me, or I’ll cut off your surcoat and find it.”
