“On the bridge.”
“Yes, the bridge. The Red Chasm. The mountain.” His eyes narrow a shade. “A crack is fine—so long as it’s controlled, so long as you can shut that gate again when the danger has passed. But any more than that…”
My brows lift, a silent question.
“You don’t want to let so much power flood out that it takes the gate right off the hinges,” he says carefully. “You may never get it closed again.”
I shiver.
“Don’t worry. I will teach you to keep it contained. I will teach you control. You just need to be vigilant.”
“You make it sound like my Remnant is a foe to be fought.”
“It is. I fight a war against my own power with every breath. I still struggle to keep it in check—and I have been doing this for far longer than you’ve been alive. I can only hope you have an easier time than I do.”
“But you use your powers.”
“I do. Reluctantly. In moderation. And only in the absence of any better options. It is not a party trick to be used for amusement.”
I think of Soren and his water goblet, the dance of droplets. I’m not sure the Water Remnant would agree. “Why?”
“You saw the wildfire on the mountainside. How it raged. You said yourself it was unnatural. Untamable.” He does not look away from me, even for an instant. “Why do you think I was so desperate to get you away from there?”
“The battle—”
“Not the battle.Me.I was protecting you from me. I knew what would happen when I unleashed my flame. I knew it would burn out of control. I knew there was a chance I’d kill everyone within my radius. Including Jac, Mabon, and Uther.”
I suck in a startled breath. “But you didn’t.”
“No, I was lucky. This time, I managed to lock it down before I took any innocent lives.” His eyes are haunted, full of fiery ghosts I cannot decipher.
This time.
There had been other times when he could not lock it down. Could not contain it. And others had paid the price.
I suddenly see his desperation to get me off that mountain with fresh perspective. I seehimwith fresh perspective. He exercises rigid control in every aspect of his life not because he is a dictator by nature, but because deep down he is terrified of the hell he could unleash, should his restraint slip at any given moment.
“It must be exhausting,” I whisper.
His brows lift. “What?”
“Keeping it in all the time.”
I do not just mean his power. I mean his agony. His despair. His deep loneliness. There is no one around him who can ever truly understand the weight that rests upon his shoulders. Upon his soul.
Penn watches me for a heavy beat. His voice, when it comes, is hardly more than a murmur. “It is better to exercise control than suffer the consequences of losing it. Now, shut your eyes and focus.”
I press my lids closed, again seeking the swirling storm within. The wind rises instantly, a howl beneath my skin that vibrates along my limbs. Every hair on my body stands on end asI let the power pulsate. The Remnant is a steady throb at my breast, cold as ice, beating along with my frantic heart.
“Quiet your mind.”
I nod as I seek out the eye of the storm, where all is calm and centered. It takes a moment to find my way there through the roiling surf and screaming wind, but once I do, a serenity settles over me. A sort of clarity I only ever feel there, bobbing in tranquil waters as the hurricane circles at a safe distance.
“Good.” Penn takes my hands without warning, pressing his large, callused palms firmly against mine. My heart lurches into my throat as a white-hot pulse of power jumps from him to me, like a static shock. In my mind’s eye, the water I am floating in warms by several degrees, as though he’s blasted fire down the bond between us.
“What—what are you doing?” I breathe, cracking open my eyes to look at him.
He sends another pulse shimmering down the bond. “Do you feel that?”