Taps again.
I reach out my shaking, deformed hand and bang on the blasted thing just like at the old woman’s house.
There’s a mumbling followed by a crash inside just before the door’s yanked open. Myles is standing there in a pair of pants displaying the whitest bare chest I’ve ever seen on a man who prides himself so highly on looks.
“There’d better be a bleeding fire or a woman with very good legsss standing here because . . .” He stalls, seeing me for the first time. His face pinches. “Oh.”
“I’d prefer not to be seen as either of those,” I say, jaw chattering. I slip by him into his room, which, from all appearances, is identical to mine. I pick up a pair of what appear to be his silk pantaloons tossed onto his desk and drop them on the floor, then slide up to shakily perch myself in their place and tug my cloak around me.
He flips around. “What do you want?”
“Help.” I lower my voice and glance toward the door. “Whatever that woman gave me is poisoning my body. Something’s wrong.”
“And thisss is cause for getting me up before the Creator himself is awake?”
“How do I fix it?”
“You’re a woman—how in hulls should I know?”
“I had a dream—”
“I would be too if you weren’t ruining my sleep.”
“Of spiders.”
“How nice for you. We can talk about it tomorrow, now would you—”
I narrow my gaze. “I’m not leaving until you help me.”
“Help you what?”
I glare at him and lift my gimpy hand from my robe, holding it out to him as it violently tremors.
He shuts the door. “Tell me about your dream.”
I tell him about the spider and the glittery gaze and the poison in my veins and arm. He closes his eyes as if imagining them, except now he’s moving his lips, repeating my words, and the air around us has rippled until I’m watching the very same spider crawl across the carpet toward me.
I yelp and yank my legs up onto the desk, and the creature dissipates.
Myles opens his eyes. “Interesting. Other than the cold and shaking, how doesss it feel?”
“Like there’s a blasted vortex inside tugging my bones apart.”
He smiles and rubs his face with the base of his palms, then turns to pull a shirt off the foot of his bed to slip on. Thank hulls.
By the time I glance back, he’s walking toward me—stopping three feet away to roll up his sleeves and smirk. The moonlight glints off his silver tooth, making my spine rigid a moment.
“As to your question if this is normal, I’m no expert, but I’d say the potion’sss working through your system and attaching itself to your blood. The chill and tremorsss will ease once you’ve managed some control. You recall your training with Eogan?”
I ignore the hunger such a simple comment brings. Of course I remember. That’s part of the reason I’m standing here—because I don’t want to simply remember. I want it back.
I swallow and nod, which feels more like a jiggle since even my head is convulsing with cold.
“He taught you to tap into the idea of protecting others as a way to control your Elemental abilitiesss, did he not?”
“Among other things. What’s your point?”
“Were you ever able to gain complete control of them?”
“Not without his help, but only because he hadn’t finished training me.” I swear my chest bones crack a little wider as the words tumble out.
“Exxxactly. Lucky for you I’m going to finish his training—just the other side of the coin, so to ssspeak. The side he wouldn’t show you for fear you’d become too powerful for even him to control.”
“Because he knew I’d keep hurting people if he didn’t help me.”
“And so can I. The difference isss . . .” He steps closer and lifts his hand, touching one finger to a strand of my white hair. “I don’t think you need to be controlled. I think you need to be ssset free.”
Eogan would be horrified. My teeth begin clacking again as a shudder lurches through me. The bluebird marking on my arm begins aching, flaring, flittering her crushed wings against my pulsing vein. But when I look down, it’s nothing.
I grind my jaw. “So get on with it. Show me.”
“As I said, Eogan used the technique of tapping into your, shall we call it, merciful side. My way is similar. Except I’m going to teach you to reach for your jussstice side.” He dips his face near mine and whispers, “The part of you that hates Draewulf for what he’s done—that hates the injustice done to you by years of being enslaved to perverse owners. I’ll teach you to fight against that.”
My stomach turns. How many times did Eogan and I argue about this—about my fear of becoming a weapon? “I want to do justice, not strike out in vengeance.”
“Oh my dear,” he breathes. “When I’m finished with you, you’ll be able to use thisss power for whatever you want.”