42. Changing Tactics

Chapter 42

Changing Tactics

H aving a few hours before training with Thaddeus, I picked my way through the woods.

“Damn it,” I gritted, untangling the oversized bandolier from another branch. Stars, I missed my own equipment, and it wasn’t the only thing I missed about my old life.

No blade could chase away what had been revealed today, but I’d try my damndest to keep the thoughts at bay. Genocide. How had we gotten here? And why in damnation had the fates bestowed the spark on me, for this?

Don’t think for a second they wouldn’t do the same thing to us, given the chance, Nyleeria.

Thunk.

Now, now, Nyleeria. None of that.

Thunk.

I asked how that boy of yours is?

Thunk.

You’re nothing but a cursed changeling, Nyleeria.

Thunk .

“Ahhhhhhhhh!”

Thunk-thunk-thunk.

“Why?” I cried to the gods, my words swallowed by the forest.

Thunk-thunk-thunk.

I bent over, hands resting on my knees, breathing heavily, cheeks wet, and let every emotion wash over me, taking a moment to feel it all.

Thoughts drained, blood pounding, I collected the blades then followed the meandering river back down, stopping to splash water on my face.

Taking a seat on a boulder, I watched the sunlight dance along the water, and was taken back to the void and its memorizing colors.

I snapped my finger. Nothing—I hadn’t been able to conjure that tiny speck of light since we’d returned to the human realm.

When I searched deep within for the magical part of me, it felt different from when I’d reached for it in the vision. Then, it’d acted as if the spark had never existed. No, now it felt dormant, like a bear hibernating for the winter, except the call of spring wasn’t enough to make it stir.

I tried again. Nothing.

Closing my eyes, I allowed all thoughts to eddy from my mind, focusing on the fresh scent of the river, the slight rustle of the trees, the tiny creatures scuttling in the woods.

My attention drifted inward to that core part of myself that was both me and something wholly different.

I sat with the spark in silence, knowing she was there.

It took a while for me to feel her. She was hiding from me, like a sullen child shielding themselves from fresh hurt and betrayal. But it was more than that. She was grieving. Not just because I had shoved her down, but also because I hadn’t allowed her to protect me when I’d needed it the most.

Remorse slid through me like a stone sinking into the yawning depths of a vast lake. I wrapped thoughts of love and appreciation around her. Thanked her. Apologized to her. As I offered this and more as recompense, she slowly stirred like a cat stretching out of a deep slumber after a slight caress.

I let her grow from the impossibly tight ball I’d trapped her in, permitting her to expand into every cell of my body.

As she swept in, delighted at this new accession, a thrum emanated from me, joltingly similar to how it had felt to be near Caius and the other high lords. I sat in that sensation, the connection, until she no longer felt separate from me—until we felt as one.

I snapped my fingers again, and I didn’t have to open my eyes to know that an ember hovered in place.

Later, I entered the training room to find Thaddeus standing on the veranda, hands clasped behind his back, looking toward the forest beyond the gardens, or perhaps farther.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked, stepping into the sunlight. “Aren’t we training?”

He gave me a weak smile, and there was something haunting in his eyes.

“Do you trust me, Nyleeria?”

“With my life.”

My words seemed to make his eyes darken further.

He held his hand out. “Walk with me.”

Thaddeus released his grip and faced me once we were in the middle of the training facility. The cushy substrate below my feet still fascinated me, and I had to quell the urge to lift up onto my tiptoes and bounce like I’d done that first day—something told me now was not the time for play.

“You’ve never truly seen me wield spells before, at least nothing past parlor tricks,” Thaddeus said. His tone held a gravitas that sobered me. It was true and probably why I kept forgetting he had the ability.

“Seeing firsthand how fae magic works made me realize that I’ve gone about your training wrong.” Something like guilt danced in his eyes. “But the way we should train can be…harsh. Unfortunately, we no longer have the luxury of time on our side, and I can’t risk you be ing vulnerable. What happened with Amos can never happen again.” I could feel the pain, the helplessness in those words, hidden behind determination and anger.

“I know,” I said softly.

“The truth is, I don’t understand your powers, but I think instinctually you do, and I believe the only way to teach you is to force you to defend yourself.”

I searched for the truth in his eyes, not fully wanting to believe what he was saying. “You want to attack me.”

“Yes.”

It took a moment to sort through the irrational fear that coursed through me—the spark bristling at the threat being presented. No. It would be okay. I would be safe. This was Thaddeus. And how was this any different from how Eithan had taught me?

“Okay,” I said. “I’ve trained like this before. It’s how I learned weaponry and hand-to-hand.” I could do this. I’d walked away with many bruises over the years, more cuts than I could count, and a particularly nasty black eye one time when I’d let my defenses down and taken the full brunt of Eithan’s blow.

Thaddeus looked at me wearily. “Nyleeria, with this type of training,” he said gently, “there’s no way to ease into it. No way to break it down into smaller steps.”

I understood what he was saying. It wasn’t like hand-to-hand combat, where we could pull back on a punch. Once a spell was released, there would be no way for him to stop it. Just like Eithan hadn’t been able to pull his punch when he’d accidentally smoked me in the eye that day.

“No dowel, then,” I said, letting him know I understood.

He nodded, looking somber. “No dowel.”

This kind of training didn’t lend itself to transitioning from dowel to blade. It wouldn’t allow me to learn the lesson with minimal damage. No, these lessons would be swords first, and hope to hell I learn on the fly.

Thaddeus stayed in the center of the platform and had me stand below the slanted roof on the other side of the large pillars. I raised an eyebrow in silent question, but he turned his focus elsewhere.

A figure appeared about twenty paces in front of him, similar to the mannequin I’d slain in the Summer Court.

The air stagnated like the stifled stillness before a storm, and clear waves emanated from Thaddeus—reminding me of heat radiating off a rocky beach that had been baked in the hot sun all day.

In the blink of an eye, that clear power pulled through him and transformed into a ball of pure energy that floated between his palms. His hands made a quick pushing gesture, and the mannequin cracked as it was hit, shattering into a million pieces.

Like an aftershock, a wave of energy was released from Thaddeus, surging toward the remains of the mannequin. As the energy struck, the fragments were thrust into the air, propelled by the force of the blast. I braced for the destruction, but when the shrapnel collided with the pillars, a burst of energy flared, absorbing their essence.

Nothing broke the line between the hardwood and the mat. I understood then why Thaddeus wanted to train here. Somehow the training area held magic within its confines—perhaps the roof wasn’t as ineffectual as I’d originally thought.

Thaddeus didn’t merely know how to wield spells; he was powerful. Extremely powerful. He’d barely expended himself, and it didn’t take much to imagine what effect that spell would have had on flesh.

Knowing what I knew now, I should have feared him, cowered at what he’d revealed, and I half wondered if he’d shown me his power for that reason alone. But I couldn’t feel anything but awe and pride toward the man who had shown me great kindness. So much so that I was shocked to witness his destructive powers. Had anyone else experienced him in this order? The feared, powerful king of old being the last version of him for me to witness.

He finally faced me, and the raw fear evident in his eyes took me aback. Leaving the cover, I approached him. He stood there, stripped of any pride, silently pleading for my understanding, perhaps even expecting my disdain.

Yet, seeing his vulnerability, my defenses melted. Relief washed over him as he recognized acceptance in my gaze. I gently cradled his face, and he sank into my touch, pressing a delicate kiss upon my palm. A soft smile graced my lips in response.

He spoke, his voice laden with a roughness I hadn’t heard before. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not trying to stop Amos.” His head drooped, weighed down by shame. That must have been why he’d been apprehensive to show me the true strength of his power; now, we both knew he could’ve intervened and survived the confrontation. His guilt, now palpable, enveloped the space between us. Stars above, it must have taken every ounce of control he’d honed over the past five centuries to restrain himself in that moment, knowing it would have exposed him, and most likely gotten us all killed.

“Thaddeus, we knew acting wasn’t an option. I don’t blame you for what happened—that’s on Amos, and only him.”

He pulled me closer. As I rested my cheek against his chest, I was greeted by the steady thud of his heart.

Tilting my head up, I gave him a wry smile. “I suppose it’s my turn to be the mannequin,” I said half-heartedly.

He grimaced.

I fixed my gaze at the end of the mat. “Let’s hope I fare better,” I said dryly.

Thaddeus kissed my forehead. “You can do this, Nyleeria. I know you can.”

I stepped out of his embrace and walked to where the mannequin had stood moments before.

Thaddeus’ glimmering power rallied around him, and I braced myself. I knew he’d hold back as much as he could, but that knowledge did little to assuage the part of me that felt as if I was readying to get another back eye .

His hands moved. Before I could react, the blow hit me viciously, throwing me back. The impact was sudden and hard, as if a giant had flicked me off the ground like a tiny pebble.

I didn’t register the sharp, breathtaking pain until my body skidded across the ground, my head whipping against it. Mercifully, its mossy cushioning absorbed a good portion of the impact.

More dazed than injured, I lay there, stunned. The blue sky looked down at me as if mocking me with its perfection. I glared at it, wishing more than anything it would be overtaken by a dark, moody summer storm—then maybe the contrast with the training facility wouldn’t be so stark.

Thaddeus’ shadowed figure blocked the gratingly perfect stratosphere as he towered over me, deep worry weighing down his features.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said breathlessly. I closed my eyes and took a moment. This was going to be a long day.

Ignoring his proffered hand, I rolled onto my stomach, and one limb at a time, peeled myself off the ground.

“That hurt,” I muttered as I struggled to my feet.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I rasped as I placed my hands on my knees, catching my breath.

“We should find another way.”

“I’m fine,” I gritted out, making my way back to my starting position.

I sent a silent prayer to the stars, then turned to try again. Thaddeus hadn’t moved; he just stood there, staring.

“What?”

“We should find another way,” he said again.

Anger and frustration coursed through me, my hands now shaking. I took a step toward him.

“What other way, Thaddeus?” The words came out in a half-yell, half-plea. His eyes widened, but he didn’t respond. “We’re at the part where all we have is an ace up our sleeve; only, I’m the damn ace. You and I both know Amos sure as hell won’t pull any punches. If that means I have to endure this so I never have to endure him again, then I’ll hit this gods-damn mat as many times as I need to before I learn how to use this fucken power inside of me.”

“Okay,” he said, moving back into position.

I hit the ground again and again and again. I thanked the stars for the adrenaline coursing through my body, or I would’ve surely stayed down that last time. But every jolting collision with the mat, signified a fractional knowledge I’d obtained from the failed attempt. I just hoped they were large enough fractions to constitute progress.

Thaddeus’ power was clear to me now, and I’d even learned to brace myself fast enough before it hit. Unfortunately, no matter what I tried, I couldn’t conjure magic from that place deep within me and continued to take every blow head-on.

Getting up got harder each time, taking longer to get back into position.

As I lay on my back, my chest rising and falling, every part of my body cried for me to give up, give in. Shutting my eyes, I conjured the vision—allowing the terror to wash over me as it had when Amos stripped me bare with his eyes. That was why I was doing this. I would never feel that way again.

As I stood, I wobbled to the side, catching myself on a pillar. I gathered my bearings and got into position.

“That’s enough,” Thaddeus said, his words firm. “We’re done for the day.”

“Again,” I rasped, staring him down. I would not give up.

Thaddeus glanced sideways to one of the pillars, where a concerned Tarrin and Nevander met his gaze. I hadn’t noticed them enter and wasn’t sure how long they’d been watching. Looking up to check the skies, I found glittering stars now looking down on me. They were oddly more comforting than their daytime counterpart. I supposed that was what had drawn Thaddeus’ second and third here; they were probably curious why we’d missed dinner .

“Again,” I said, the uncompromising word echoing throughout the platform and beyond.

He stood there, a silent plea in his eyes.

“Again,” I cried in frustration, clenching my fists.

Something rattled deep in my solar plexus, like a cocoon of glass shattering. My breath caught as I stifled a scream of agony and surprise.

Time moved differently, slower.

Thump-thump.

The shattering sensation morphed into a surging, soothing energy.

Thump-thump.

Every fiber of my being soaked in what was being offered, like a droughted fern unfurling its fronds as it drank in the rain’s life force.

Thump-thump.

Thaddeus’ powers tumbled toward me.

Thump-thump.

A white light flashed, and a massive wave of energy erupted from me.

Our powers collided with a deafening crack, as if lightning had struck. Disoriented, it took me a few heartbeats to take in the aftermath; only, there wasn’t any.

There was no sign of Thaddeus’ spell, as my own powers continued to roll toward him, like a tempest waging war on the land.

Thaddeus’ eyes widened with shock that shifted to fear as he saw what was hurtling toward him.

Too much. I’d used too much force.

Terror built in me, knowing what would happen.

I tried to recall the magic, stop it from hurtling forward, but it was too late.

In a blink, it reached Thaddeus. He threw up his hands, and a shield surrounded him just in time. The blow buckled the barrier, bringing him to his knees. Thaddeus strained against it, sweat on his brow, until finally it cracked .

The remaining power struck him, hurtling him across the mat. A sickening sound echoed toward me as his back smashed into a pillar.

“No!” I screamed.

I made to run to him, to help him, but as it had when Thaddeus first demonstrated his power, an aftershock thrust out from me in a blinding flash.

Blinking away the light, my power rippled toward Thaddeus.

“Gods, no,” I whispered to myself, knowing it would hit Tarrin and Nevander too.

Still in slow motion, pillar by pillar cracked as my power made its way through the freestanding building. The same shock and fear marred Tarrin’s and Nevander’s features before they were thrown off the side.

My magic made for Thaddeus, who lay prone, unresponsive.

I dropped to my knees, calm washing over me, as if every ounce of rage had been sucked into the energy that had left my body. I placed my hands on the soft ground, and like I had earlier, I sent love and appreciation to the power within me. Soothing it, coaxing it back to me, letting her know I was safe— we were safe. And like the edges of a thick spring fog touching the warming sunlight, she softened, floated around Thaddeus, and dissipated into nothingness.

Relief flooded me as I got up on wobbly legs and ran to him.

“Thaddeus,” I said in a panic. “Can you hear me?” I checked his pulse and let out a sigh of relief as his steady beat danced under my fingers.

I stroked his hair. “Thaddeus. I’m here.”

He stirred, and I almost cried at the sight. His eyes fluttered open and found mine. Amusement, then concern, crossed his features.

“Tarrin? Nevander?” he croaked.

Shit. I bolted toward where they’d been thrown off. Thank the stars it was a small drop.

I peered down to find them already helping each other up.

By the time I’d made my way back to Thaddeus, he was sitting. I knelt in front of him, watching his every movement, listening to his every breath.

He focused his eyes on something behind me, and I turned to see an unamused Nevander and a fully amused Tarrin looking down at us.

“I see training is going well,” Tarrin said as he rubbed his neck.

Thaddeus let out a small chuckle. “Indeed.” He took Nevander’s proffered hand and hauled himself up.

Thaddeus took a step toward me, and Nevander tensed as if he disapproved, but the king swept his thumb across my cheek and said, “You did excellent,” a smile blooming on his face.

“She almost killed you,” Nevander said.

Thaddeus’ gaze didn’t leave mine. “You called it back, didn’t you?” he said, still speaking directly to me.

I nodded in confirmation.

“You learned its language, Nyleeria.”

It took a moment for his words to register. He was right; I had learned her language. The one I’d known for so long but hadn’t known how to use in this context. It wasn’t the language of the blind fury he was referring to; it was how I’d lulled it, calmed it, caressed it into listening to my command.

Wanting to see if he was right, I stepped a few paces away and conjured that ball of power, letting it float before me. I asked it to soften, be playful, and its shape morphed from a firm ball of power that could explode with a thought to a bubble that allowed itself to dance in the air, its shape fluid. I sent gratitude to it as I took my pointer finger and popped it—thousands of tiny embers cascaded harmlessly to the ground, then disappeared.

My body was exhausted and my mind was spent, but I wasn’t nauseous, not even a little. Had it really been that easy all along? Had I caused this turmoil by feeling separate from her? Was it truly as simple as allowing harmony between us to thrive?

As if in answer, I could feel that part of me purr once more.