We dismount, and I step away from Jasce and tip my face up to the cloudless sky. I reach deep within myself for my magic, desperate to know I can wield it on my own, just like I command my Phoenix, but nothing happens.
No response, no flicker of power.
Frustration rips through me as I clench my hands into fists.
Jasce grabs my hand and guides me to a flat boulder warmed by the sun.
“Will you talk to me?” I ask, knowing I need the distraction.
“What do you want me to say?”
I lick my bottom lip. “Tell me more about your life.”
He fixes his gaze on the distant horizon as he speaks. “I was really young when my mother left, and Lady Dinah tried to protect me.”
I lean my head against his shoulder as he continues.
“My father changed after my mother left. He spent days locked in his study, drinking. When he did emerge...” Jasce’s jaw clenches. “The bruises were easier to handle than the words.”
“I’m sorry,” I say as I imagine him as a young boy desperately missing his mother and trying to avoid his father’s temper.
Jasce is silent for a while before finding his voice again. “I promised myself I’d never become him. Never let anger rule me, but sometimes I feel it there, burning beneath my skin.”
I slide my fingers between his, offering silent support.
“When my father would rage, Lady Dinah would hide me in her chambers. She’d wrap me in blankets that smelled of lavender and tell me stories about brave warriors who fought dragons. But the real monster was just down the hall.”
My heart aches for the little boy he once was. “You’re nothing like him, Jasce.”
“Sometimes I wonder.” His fingers tighten around mine. “When I’m in battle, when the blood runs hot, and the killing comes easy...I feel that same darkness inside me.”
“No.” I turn to face him. “Your father hurt people because he could. You fight to protect others.”
Jasce’s eyes meet mine, vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen before. “When I was twelve, I found an injured hawk. Its wing was broken. I spent weeks nursing it back to health, hiding it from my father because I knew...” A tic forms beneath his eyes as he continues, “…when he discovered it, he snapped its neck and said he was teaching me that weakness deserves death.”
“Oh, Jasce.”
“That’s when I realized I had to become stronger than him. Not just physically, but here.” He taps his chest. “I had to learn to control the rage, to channel it into something useful.”
I trace my thumb across Jasce’s knuckles as he draws in a quick breath.
“The hardest part was pretending to be the son he wanted while secretly working against him.”
“With Hector?”
“Yes. I’d stand there in the throne room, nodding along as my father plotted to destroy our people. Then, I’d ride out at night to meet with Hector and plan ways to save my people from Jerrod.”
The wind stirs Jasce’s dark hair as he stares across the valley. “I learned to wear a mask, to be two people at once. The dutiful heir in public, the rebel in the shadows.”
“That must have felt like you were walking on the edge of a blade,” I say.
“Exactly.” His eyes meet mine. “One misstep and everything would crumble. But I couldn’t let him destroy what was left of our people’s spirit.”
“You saved them, Jasce.”
“When I saw what Aleksander made you do to that village...” His jaw clenches. “That darkness inside me roared to life, and I wanted to tear him apart with my bare hands.”
“But you didn’t.”
