to help.”
A sick feeling emerges, like ill-placed hope blossoming at the base of my mind. I shake it off. “It can’t be done.”
“The new abilities or the separating? Because I promise the first can.”
I stare at him.
Coils of twisted hunger slip down my spine and touch my heart.
This is his offer.
New abilities that could save Eogan.
His finger swirls over the bandage beneath my sleeve. “Such a shame to see your powers so quickly discarded. Especially when they sssimply needed a more effective trainer . . .”
I shake him off. “Even Rasha doesn’t believe separating them can be done.” But my voice is weaker this time. How could she not have told me? How could she have acted so casual if she really knew what he would offer? If she really knew what this could mean. To me.
Especially when she admitted there are no other options for saving the one person I care for.
“She may be right, on that I won’t lie to you. But when you go to sssleep tonight, ask yourself which one of us would be willing to risk and find out—a passive Luminescent or the second most powerful Uathúil you know trained by Eogan himself?”
His words snag at that slithering hope and without my permission billow it out with what we both know to be true—if anyone could know how to do this, it would be him. Suddenly I’m jittering all over. “I can’t,” I whisper, as behind us a door opens and then closes. “Don’t bring it up again.”
He looks up and lowers his voice to a mumble. “Your choice. But if you truly want to help him? Ask yourself if Eogan is worth your risk.” With that, he pushes off the railing and strides past me.
A few seconds later I hear the door to the dining room shut, and I am left with an armful of questions and horror and a desperately inflating hope that’s burning more questions into my mind than answers.
Could Myles help me get my power back? Would I actually be able to free Eogan in a way he could survive?
Could I free him in time?
I stare at the span of clouds and the sunset peeking between sky and water on the horizon and try to make some sort of sense out of the possibilities. Because while something tells me Rasha’s right—that Myles’s idea feels more slimy and more sinister than he let on—the very thought that I could free Eogan, that I could set this right, is enough to make my angry, hateful soul feel like breathing again.
CHAPTER 12
I ’VE STOOD THERE A GOOD FIVE MINUTES BEFORE THE new presence emerges in my consciousness. I feel him before I see him. Standing there watching me.
For the split second after I turn to face him, Eogan looks normal, with the clouded sun rays and rain misting on his broad cloaked shoulders and face. My heart surges. The next moment his expression has morphed into a mixture of annoyance and suspicion and he’s demanding information with his eyes. As if Draewulf’s come to ensure his job of removing my ability has remained intact.
I shove aside my newfound hope and nausea and firm my fists. Get the answers from him, Nym.
He’s walking toward me. I peer past him toward the dining area, but the door’s windows are too small to see through. Where’s Rasha?
And where are my Faelen guards?
“You may think you’re smart sneaking on board this ship, but tell me you didn’t truly believe it was luck that no one caught you,” Draewulf says when he reaches me. “Or did you think me such a fool? You’re playing a bloody game here.”
“Where are my guards?”
He snorts. “I asked them to give us a moment of privacy.”
“And they obeyed?”
“I didn’t really give them a choice.” He holds out his hand.
When I don’t move, he glares down that attractive nose and grabs my arm. And presses into it hard enough that I can feel the pulsing of my own blood in my veins. I jerk away, but he’s already releasing it, seemingly satisfied that I have no power, although how he could tell is beyond me. Perhaps because I didn’t erupt and
A sick feeling emerges, like ill-placed hope blossoming at the base of my mind. I shake it off. “It can’t be done.”
“The new abilities or the separating? Because I promise the first can.”
I stare at him.
Coils of twisted hunger slip down my spine and touch my heart.
This is his offer.
New abilities that could save Eogan.
His finger swirls over the bandage beneath my sleeve. “Such a shame to see your powers so quickly discarded. Especially when they sssimply needed a more effective trainer . . .”
I shake him off. “Even Rasha doesn’t believe separating them can be done.” But my voice is weaker this time. How could she not have told me? How could she have acted so casual if she really knew what he would offer? If she really knew what this could mean. To me.
Especially when she admitted there are no other options for saving the one person I care for.
“She may be right, on that I won’t lie to you. But when you go to sssleep tonight, ask yourself which one of us would be willing to risk and find out—a passive Luminescent or the second most powerful Uathúil you know trained by Eogan himself?”
His words snag at that slithering hope and without my permission billow it out with what we both know to be true—if anyone could know how to do this, it would be him. Suddenly I’m jittering all over. “I can’t,” I whisper, as behind us a door opens and then closes. “Don’t bring it up again.”
He looks up and lowers his voice to a mumble. “Your choice. But if you truly want to help him? Ask yourself if Eogan is worth your risk.” With that, he pushes off the railing and strides past me.
A few seconds later I hear the door to the dining room shut, and I am left with an armful of questions and horror and a desperately inflating hope that’s burning more questions into my mind than answers.
Could Myles help me get my power back? Would I actually be able to free Eogan in a way he could survive?
Could I free him in time?
I stare at the span of clouds and the sunset peeking between sky and water on the horizon and try to make some sort of sense out of the possibilities. Because while something tells me Rasha’s right—that Myles’s idea feels more slimy and more sinister than he let on—the very thought that I could free Eogan, that I could set this right, is enough to make my angry, hateful soul feel like breathing again.
CHAPTER 12
I ’VE STOOD THERE A GOOD FIVE MINUTES BEFORE THE new presence emerges in my consciousness. I feel him before I see him. Standing there watching me.
For the split second after I turn to face him, Eogan looks normal, with the clouded sun rays and rain misting on his broad cloaked shoulders and face. My heart surges. The next moment his expression has morphed into a mixture of annoyance and suspicion and he’s demanding information with his eyes. As if Draewulf’s come to ensure his job of removing my ability has remained intact.
I shove aside my newfound hope and nausea and firm my fists. Get the answers from him, Nym.
He’s walking toward me. I peer past him toward the dining area, but the door’s windows are too small to see through. Where’s Rasha?
And where are my Faelen guards?
“You may think you’re smart sneaking on board this ship, but tell me you didn’t truly believe it was luck that no one caught you,” Draewulf says when he reaches me. “Or did you think me such a fool? You’re playing a bloody game here.”
“Where are my guards?”
He snorts. “I asked them to give us a moment of privacy.”
“And they obeyed?”
“I didn’t really give them a choice.” He holds out his hand.
When I don’t move, he glares down that attractive nose and grabs my arm. And presses into it hard enough that I can feel the pulsing of my own blood in my veins. I jerk away, but he’s already releasing it, seemingly satisfied that I have no power, although how he could tell is beyond me. Perhaps because I didn’t erupt and
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