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Soren’s wicked hand remained put while he trailed his mouth up to meet hers, one kiss at a time. The moment their lips met, something shifted inside her chest. Little wings of her own fluttered, carrying a song of hope.
38
MENTAL NOTES FROM THE SCHOOL HEALER AT CSA:
Exhale for a count of three, pause, then inhale for a count of three. Repeat as needed until calm. Don’t forget to replenish the lavender once it loses its scent.
Thessa had abandoned her tent for Soren’s days ago. Staying away from him had become increasingly more difficult than she anticipated.
Seated in one corner was Brenneth, and in the other was Soren. Pacing between them, their father spoke. “You two need to work together, find our weaknesses and strengthen them.”
Soren eyed his half-brother, who curtsied for Thessa every time he greeted her now. “Brenneth, formalize combat training. I want protocols and drills established for review by morning.”
Jussal’s eyes darted between the brothers who looked likepolar opposites. Brenneth took after his mother with the same pale skin, blue-green eyes, and wheat colored hair.
“Will Thessa be joining combat?” Brenneth asked. “Or does she only serve other purposes here?” His salacious grin was unmistakable.
Soren hissed, “Protocols and drills, Brenneth. Now get out before you choke on those words.”
The tent flaps fluttered in Brenneth’s wake.
“If you can’t get along with the head of our combat unit, you’ll destroy everything I built.”
Soren cleared his throat. “While I appreciate your concern, father, I’ll deal with Brenneth. You and I need to discuss something else.”
On their way back from the flower fields, she and Soren had a long conversation about her powers. She knew she couldn’t hide this part of herself for much longer. If she could help the rebellion by offering a little hope, then she’d do just that.
Jussal’s black eyes lit up. “You’ve found something?”
“Not yet. It’s about Thessa.”
Thessa was perched on the foot of Soren’s bedroll. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here.”
Jussal tilted his head. “What is it?”
Thessa stood. “It’s about my magic.”
“Yes?”
“It’s … different.”
His dark brows narrowed. “Show me.”
Thessa breathed in, conjuring her magic to a single fingertip. She let one dark wisp escape, dancing toward the corner of Soren’s tent. A lone candle sat atop a tree stump there.
The flickering light gave way to her shadow in an instant.
Eyes wide, Jussal ran out of the tent.
“Is he okay?” she asked Soren.
Shaking his head, Soren muttered, “Likely not. I told you he wouldn’t take it well.”
A few minutes later Jussal sprinted back inside with Emiel’s father. The last time she’d seen Francis, chaos unfolded.
Out of breath, Jussal panted, “Francis, go on please, like we discussed.”
Soren stood, facing his father. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”