While no longer compelled to mold himself to fit other people’s desires, he had found he could still change his appearance at will. He rarely used the ability, but it had been helpful in reverting his hair back to its previous length and color.
“I don’t know. Lighter, maybe.” Braeden tilted his head. “Happy looks good on you.”
His cheeks heated, and he lowered his eyes, no longer capable of holding his friend’s gaze as a shy smile curled his lips. “Thanks.”
“So, you really have magic now?”
The smile vanished in an instant.
“It’s…complicated.”
And he wasn’t saying that because he didn’t want to talk about it.
He had spent his entire life believing he was just an ordinary changeling, and not even a very good one at that. Hell, he’d built his whole identity around it.
Inarguably formidable, his mother had been a halfling, with magic flowing from only one side of her lineage. That had been explanation enough for why he hadn’t inherited so much as a scrap of her abilities. Not common, but not exactly rare, it had never occurred to him to question it.
Then, in the span of a heartbeat, that reality had dissolved around him. Discovering that everything he thought he knew about himself was a lie had shattered his entire sense of self.
And he’d learned that truth by killing someone.
Dominic constantly reminded him that it hadn’t been his fault. He agreed, but that didn’t make him feel any better about it. The fact that Henri Delacour had been a dangerous monster who deserved his fate didn’t change anything either.
“The blood magic wasn’t only a tether,” he said when Braeden continued to stare at him. “It literally bound me. It suppressed magic I didn’t even know I had, and it dampened my ability to control the change.”
Dominic had explained it by likening it to the volume knob on a radio. His magic had been muted, turned all the way down to zero. Not off, but too quiet to hear. His sensitivity to other’s desires, to what they wanted from him, however, had been cranked to the maximum setting.
“No offense, but your mom sounds like a real bitch.”
The response caught him off guard, eliciting a bark of surprised laughter from his lips. “None taken.”
She really had betrayed him in every conceivable way.
“But I’m still mad at you.” Braeden dropped back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. “You could have told me. I don’t know what I would have done, but I would have tried to help you.”
“And that’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.”
“You didn’t even tell me you’re a changeling!”
Sammy winced. “I’m sorry. Being a changeling wasn’t exactly something I was proud of.” With Dominic’s help, he had been slowly working on changing that. “When I came to Hunters Hollow, I just wanted a fresh start without all the baggage.”
Braeden exhaled slowly, and the tense set of his shoulders relaxed. “I get that. Doesn’t make it suck less.”
Accurate. Succinct. Slightly unhinged.
Sammy chuckled. “Very insightful.”
“I know. It’s a gift.” Then he jerked upright and practically threw himself forward to rest his elbows on the table. “So, what’s it like having magic?”
“It’s…okay.”
“That’s it?” Braeden looked utterly scandalized. “Come on.”
“I don’t know. I’m still learning how to use it.” More importantly, how to control it.
Dominic had been teaching him, but because magic flowed both ways through their bond, their lessons didn’t always go according to plan. Not only did he have to learn how his own powers worked, but he also had to contend with the influence of his mate’s more powerful brand of magic.
Most days, he opted out completely and preferred to do things the old-fashioned way—with his hands.