loosened the tightness in her shoulders.
Ryan clapped his hands, smiling cruelly at her. “Bravo. Your imagination could fill a whole new library to replace what we’ve lost.”
Wrath flared into her power center. Morgan silently intoned a sending spell. She sent images into Ryan’s head of a foretelling she experienced two weeks ago. At that time, her Sight made no sense. Now she understood its nature.
The scene revealed Ryan sailing away from a gloomy, barren world, and washing ashore on this island. She also shared a moment from his childhood, a memory he had locked away in the farthest recesses of his mind. That particular image froze Ryan’s body. An instant barricade encircled his mind, forcing her intrusive transference out.
“I’m sorry.” Her lower lip trembled.
Ryan fisted a hand against his other palm, cracking his knuckles. The sound grated along Morgan’s nerves like a knife on crockery.
“Sorry for what? For breaking into my head?” he asked in a composed voice. “For knowing I didn’t care if I died in the squall? Seeing my screwed up childhood? Seeing how my father suppressed my magic when I defied him? Witnessing me reduced to begging on my knees in front of the bastard and agreeing to his terms in order to get a break from the torture of not having my power?” The dragon tattoo on his arm quivered as if preparing to launch itself at Morgan.
“I’m sorry for everything.” She sighed loudly. “I’m a seer. However, my ability sometimes includes perplexing and disturbing visions of an unknown past.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better? If you saw that much, you saw what’s left of my hellhole of a world.”
His frosty glare held the demeanor of a boy whose dark secrets had fallen into enemy hands. She shoved aside her packs and claimed the space between them. Tentatively, she touched his arm, then gave him a reassuring squeeze. His muscles jumped beneath her hand, resisting the compassion she offered.
“My gifts don’t work in such a manner. I see only what the Goddess allows.” She shrugged. “There is always a purpose behind my visions. I can’t always comprehend them at first, but ultimately they serve to enlighten or aid those in need.”
He shrugged her hand off his arm. “I don’t want your sympathy.” The glare he gave her was as icy as his voice. “Duty prevails over my life.” He straightened his spine against the cave wall. “My parents were the most powerful Druid sorcerers on Earth in my time. They married for the specific purpose of creating dominant sorcerers. I was born and raised solely to replenish our dwindling population in a world that believed we were a bunch of tree worshipping ritual priests. Those Druids haven’t existed in over a century. Few people believed in or understood the lost magic of the Druids and our ties to the elements.” A dark, wintry expression formed lines around Ryan’s eyes and mouth. “All my father cared about was proving the world wrong, creating a dominant race. There was no fucking love in my family.” His fingers dug into his thighs, whitening the depressions in his tanned skin. “Once my father discovered how powerful I was, all he wanted was to raise me to be his successor. To do that, I had to garner the respect of our people in the only way I knew how—killing the Fomorians and their spawn hell-bent on annihilating our magic.” Ryan’s body quaked with anger. “I earned his grudging respect. The day I killed a Fomorian he couldn’t touch, I earned his fear. Duty is all I know, all that matters.” Bitterness spiked his tone.
An oppressive air descended upon them. Morgan wiped the perspiration off her brow, unsure how to respond. She knew all too well the prevalence of responsibility in a ruler’s life, evidenced by her luckless presence on the island. At least she hadn’t died on Avalon as she long expected, she thought wryly.
Ryan’s mask softened, and his shoulders hunched forward. “Did
Ryan clapped his hands, smiling cruelly at her. “Bravo. Your imagination could fill a whole new library to replace what we’ve lost.”
Wrath flared into her power center. Morgan silently intoned a sending spell. She sent images into Ryan’s head of a foretelling she experienced two weeks ago. At that time, her Sight made no sense. Now she understood its nature.
The scene revealed Ryan sailing away from a gloomy, barren world, and washing ashore on this island. She also shared a moment from his childhood, a memory he had locked away in the farthest recesses of his mind. That particular image froze Ryan’s body. An instant barricade encircled his mind, forcing her intrusive transference out.
“I’m sorry.” Her lower lip trembled.
Ryan fisted a hand against his other palm, cracking his knuckles. The sound grated along Morgan’s nerves like a knife on crockery.
“Sorry for what? For breaking into my head?” he asked in a composed voice. “For knowing I didn’t care if I died in the squall? Seeing my screwed up childhood? Seeing how my father suppressed my magic when I defied him? Witnessing me reduced to begging on my knees in front of the bastard and agreeing to his terms in order to get a break from the torture of not having my power?” The dragon tattoo on his arm quivered as if preparing to launch itself at Morgan.
“I’m sorry for everything.” She sighed loudly. “I’m a seer. However, my ability sometimes includes perplexing and disturbing visions of an unknown past.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better? If you saw that much, you saw what’s left of my hellhole of a world.”
His frosty glare held the demeanor of a boy whose dark secrets had fallen into enemy hands. She shoved aside her packs and claimed the space between them. Tentatively, she touched his arm, then gave him a reassuring squeeze. His muscles jumped beneath her hand, resisting the compassion she offered.
“My gifts don’t work in such a manner. I see only what the Goddess allows.” She shrugged. “There is always a purpose behind my visions. I can’t always comprehend them at first, but ultimately they serve to enlighten or aid those in need.”
He shrugged her hand off his arm. “I don’t want your sympathy.” The glare he gave her was as icy as his voice. “Duty prevails over my life.” He straightened his spine against the cave wall. “My parents were the most powerful Druid sorcerers on Earth in my time. They married for the specific purpose of creating dominant sorcerers. I was born and raised solely to replenish our dwindling population in a world that believed we were a bunch of tree worshipping ritual priests. Those Druids haven’t existed in over a century. Few people believed in or understood the lost magic of the Druids and our ties to the elements.” A dark, wintry expression formed lines around Ryan’s eyes and mouth. “All my father cared about was proving the world wrong, creating a dominant race. There was no fucking love in my family.” His fingers dug into his thighs, whitening the depressions in his tanned skin. “Once my father discovered how powerful I was, all he wanted was to raise me to be his successor. To do that, I had to garner the respect of our people in the only way I knew how—killing the Fomorians and their spawn hell-bent on annihilating our magic.” Ryan’s body quaked with anger. “I earned his grudging respect. The day I killed a Fomorian he couldn’t touch, I earned his fear. Duty is all I know, all that matters.” Bitterness spiked his tone.
An oppressive air descended upon them. Morgan wiped the perspiration off her brow, unsure how to respond. She knew all too well the prevalence of responsibility in a ruler’s life, evidenced by her luckless presence on the island. At least she hadn’t died on Avalon as she long expected, she thought wryly.
Ryan’s mask softened, and his shoulders hunched forward. “Did
Similar Books
