I turned my attention to the opposite platform and the gap between. I sucked in a sharp breath. It wasn’t the ten-foot drop that bothered me so much as the shards of glass scattered on the ground.
“Crap,” I whispered to myself.
Frazer coughed beside me. I faced him warily.
He reached for one of the ropes above us. Grasping ahold, he brought his legs up and hooked them over. Shooting me a pointed look, he pulled himself across, his bag weighting him down.
He was helping me. Gods, this was confusing.
He’s smarter than he looks, sang Auntie.
No time to reply, not with the sounds of recruits snapping at our heels. It was tiring making my way over to the adjacent platform but mercifully doable. Frazer was waiting for me on the other end. I lowered myself to the planked floor and before he could move off, I flagged him down to mouth, “thank you.” He shrugged it off, but he also didn’t leave my side.
We moved down another staircase, hit the ground, and the first obstacle loomed large again. My second circuit had a nasty surprise—the mentors chucked smoking projectiles at us. Of freaking course, I got caught up in a cloud of it going across the tightrope. I slipped and toppled over into freezing water and crawled out caked in mud. The next few loops were even more miserable, and I fell into the trench three more times. At least I hadn’t caught fire …
When Goldwyn called out to the recruits to stop and join the mentors, I thought I might cry. There was no way to know how long I’d been out there, but hours didn’t seem a stretch. Frazer was at my side as I limped over to the first ladder. I still had no idea why he’d chosen to stick close, but I was infinitely glad he had.
Once every sweat-stained, mud-speckled recruit had assembled near the grim-looking mentors, Dimitri boomed out, “The next phase will not begin immediately.”
My heart leaped.
“Because we’re still not done with the first,” he ended.
I almost collapsed right then and there.
“Since no one has quit … or died …” The cold drawl in his voice spoke of nothing but regret at that fact. “We’ve decided we must be going easy on you.”
I swayed and almost reached for Frazer to steady me.
“First, you’ll need a partner. Choose wisely. You don’t want a weakling by your side.” Dimitri eyeballed a few of the human recruits, including me.
My cheeks flushed. Cai would pick Liora. There was nothing for it. I turned to Frazer and held out my palm. If his language was silent, I’d have to learn to speak it.
Frazer looked down at my hand, frowning. When his eyes lifted to mine they seemed to say, Why should I?
I lifted my chin and stared into him. We’re outcasts; we should stick together.
His eyes widened as if he understood me. A pause, and then a tiny nod. He took my hand in his but not before shooting me a look that plainly said, I better not regret this.
Together, we turned to the mentors, waiting for further instruction. Like magnets, Wilder locked eyes with me. His gaze traveled to Frazer and finally, to rest on our clasped hands. Surprise, and maybe a rumble of something darker crossed his face. His expression set to stone, then left to scan the crowd. In the same heartbeat I resented him for his detachment and hated myself for wanting to inspire envy in him, stars help me.
Frazer made an amused chuffing noise somewhere between a growl, a cough and a sneeze. My eyes found his. I felt a jolt around my midriff and a tug. Instantly, I felt exposed and unsettled but also clear. Like I’d sailed through darkness and weathered countless storms only to see a guiding light from the cliffs. Except, my light came in the guise of a haughty brow and a deadpan stare.
Don’t look at me like that. I can’t help it if I find your drama amusing.
I blinked. His words had felt closer that time, more intimate. As if I’d heard them spoken.
Goldwyn cried out, “The first task you’ll be carrying out with your partners will be to toss a flour sack back and forth. No rests. We will be watching.” Somehow, she’d managed to make that sound like a threat and a joke.
The class surged toward the bags. I was about to follow when Frazer squeezed my elbow, stopping me.
Stay—I’ll get it.
He broke away and my stomach flipped over. He hadn’t even looked at me. This wasn’t just guessing at his silence anymore. Enough was enough. There was only one person—thing—that could give me answers.
What the rutting rats is going on? Am I really hearing his thoughts?
Something like that, said Auntie, clearly amused. If I’m right, he should be able to hear you too. Visualize a connection—a thread or bond, linking you—and then try to communicate with him. But be careful. If he thinks you’re invading his mind, he might attack you.
Before I had time to ask more, Frazer took a position opposite me and threw me a small sack of flour.
This was crazy. Utterly mad. As we flung the bag back and forth, I followed Auntie’s advice and imagined a thin gold thread connecting us. Partially out of curiosity, but also to distract myself from the pain riding my body.
I started by whispering down the bond, Hello? Frazer?
And I glared at him, thinking it couldn’t hurt to have the facial expression to match. Frazer’s face creased into a frown and he fumbled a catch.
Sweat slid down my brow. Hello? I think I can hear your thoughts …
His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. I shouldn’t be able to hear you or vice versa. I’ve been trained against mind readers. My shields are up.
I could almost feel the aggression roll off him, the springs tightening in his body as he prepared to pounce. Fearing he was about to tear me in half, I rambled, I’m no mind reader. I’m not even a witch. I thought maybe you were.
A grumble of some half-forgotten laughter traveled through the thread as he threw the flour sack back to me. Definitely not.
Are you sure?
I didn’t want this to be about me.
I’m a grown fae. If I possessed such a gift, it would’ve manifested itself before now, especially since I haven’t spoken to anyone in years, he projected. Although, I often imagine myself to be.
Something clicked. And were you doing that a few moments ago, when you told me to stay while you got the flour?
A pause.
I suppose I wanted you to understand me, yes. But no one’s ever actually heard me before. They shouldn’t be able to. The magic to fuel this must come from you.
The necklace? Putting that aside for a moment, I had to ask him. Can you speak … or—
I choose not to.
But, why?
If I’d wanted to explain myself to strangers, I wouldn’t have a problem talking to people, would I?
Snarky ass.
I heard that, his mental voice snapped like a whip.
Shit. Great, so now you can hear things that I don’t want you to?
There were several excruciatingly embarrassing thoughts that I didn’t want shared, most of them involving a certain muscled fae.
Frazer’s shoulder rolled. It’s not like I’m trying. Your thoughts just blasted through that time.
Disturbing.
So, why help me on the obstacle course? You’ve refused to before now. I was desperate for a reason, not least because I wanted to ignore the searing heat building in my arms.
He tossed the flour toward me with more force. Your guess is as good as mine.
Catching it, I added, That’s not an answer.
It’s the only answer you’re going to get.
Imagining the gold thread again, I inched along it until I reached something that felt distinctively different. Something that was solid and distant and sad, like the hush of midnight, or a still pool.
You won’t be able to read his mind like that. You shouldn’t even try. His thoughts are his to share, Auntie chastised.
Feeling guilty and churlish, I replied, He did it to me first.
No, he didn’t. Think of your connection as two mirrors reflecting each other’s chosen thoughts. When you want to understand each other, you can. Just like a normal conversation.