My gold-touch has never been something I had to put much effort into using. In fact, it’s always been the exact opposite. I had to be more careful, to work harder for it not to come out.
When I unleashed in that ballroom, it could’ve been cataclysmic. I’m lucky Slade stopped me when he did, because my rational mind had no control. I could’ve killed Slade or the Wrath or Digby. My gold could’ve seeped through the rest of the castle and down into the city, killing innocents.
“My gold can’t be trusted. I can’t be trusted.” I finally say the words aloud, the same ones that have been churning in my gut, making me swallow them down again and again.
Slade frowns. “You unleashing like that, defending yourself while your magic unfurled with another layer you’d never been able to utilize before, it’s not a bad thing, Auren.”
I’m not sure how he can say that. Then again, he rots people. Probably not the best judge of good versus bad.
“Regardless, I haven’t gilded anything,” I say, picking at my leggings. “Not a single thing since I woke up. My gold-touch has always happened involuntarily. Always. If the sun’s up, my gold would come whether I wanted it to or not. But since I woke up...nothing.”
He looks contemplative for a moment, eyes skimming around me. “Your aura looks strong. But physical magic like ours can be finicky. It’s why training is so important.”
“I think my magic is broken,” I confess on a thick tongue. “I think when I somehow called the gold to me that night, when I snapped and my fae nature came out, I did something with my magic that I’m not supposed to be able to do. I corrupted it in some way, and now it doesn’t work right. At least, not without me going full-fae, and I can’t keep letting myself snap like that. Because what I did...”
My voice plugs up. Tongue parched from the memories that torment me.
I see the flashes playing in my head in fragments. The rush of power I called. The things I destroyed.
The people I killed.
I can hear the screams, too.
Because of what I did. Because I lost control.
Look at what you did.
That sudden voice pops in my head like a shrill whistle flung from a combative hand, calloused fingers shoved between teeth, the blown blare tossed against my ears like a slap.
Look at what you did.
I jerk away from it, as though the person saying that is in front of me rather than in my head.
“Auren?” My eyes spring to Slade, to the concerned line between his brows. “What just happened? Where’d you go?”
“Nothing. Nowhere.”
His eyes narrow. Watch. Observe me like he’s not just looking at my eyes but looking right through them. Looking into my head where these memories swirl.
“I see.”
My shoulders tense. “You see what?”
Rip leans forward. “You know what I think?” he says instead of answering me. “I think you already explained why your gold isn’t working.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You said that both you and your gold can’t be trusted.”
“It’s true.”
He raises a finger and points at me. “And that right there explains it. Because our emotions are tied to our power, Auren. That includes fear of our own magic.”
My pulse spikes. Maybe I’m imagining it, but I swear his gaze drops down to the vein in my neck as if he’s observing me that closely.
“You’re afraid of what you did in Ranhold,” he says, and my heart bangs against my ribs, my eyes forgetting to blink.
“Of course I am.”
He leans closer to me, and I want to lean away, want to hold up a hand in front of my face so he can’t read me so thoroughly.
Defensiveness rises up in me like a sudden tide. “I shouldn’t have been able to control the gold like that, but I did, and because of that, I killed people. I lost control.”
“You aren’t just afraid of what you did that night. You’re afraid of your gold, aren’t you?”
The question hits me full in the chest. He doesn’t even need me to answer.
“You can’t be afraid of your power, Auren. I know you’ve had to try and hide away and suppress it your whole life, but—”
“I barely had any control before, and now I have to worry about going fae beast? I don’t even have the reprieve of nighttime?” I let out a scoffing sigh. “I have to be afraid of it, Rip. Because when I lose control like I did at Ranhold and like I did at—”
I snap my mouth shut, eyes gone wide.
Slade’s head cocks. “Like you did where?”
No.
I don’t want to think about that.
I never let myself think about that.
“Did you lose control before, Auren?” he asks quietly.
My jaw grinds together. Unrestrained heat hits the back of my eyes.
“I don’t want to talk about that,” I say, jumping to my feet. “That has nothing to do with this.”
He’s on me before I can even go three steps. His hand gripping my arm, turning me back around. And I hate the frown of concern on his face, because it just makes me feel worse.
“My magic is just broken. That’s all,” I say obstinately.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins, my limbs tingling, breath quickening like my instinct to flee is urging me on. But Slade doesn’t remove his hold on my arm. I’m stuck in this spot, unable to run away from this conversation.
“No. Your magic isn’t broken, Auren. You have more ability with it than ever, and you’re just blocking it.”
I feel my shoulders go tense.
“Something happened to you, didn’t it?” he asks softly. “You’ve lost control of your magic before and something bad happened. So Ranhold, all of this, it’s bringing up something else from your past.”
My chest rises and falls so fast, and yet it feels like I’m not getting in any air at all.
“Breathe, baby,” Slade says softly, now using both hands to rub up and down my arms in soothing strokes. “Tell me what happened.”
My head shakes, cheek torn by a line of moisture. “No.”
It’s not a stubborn answer. It’s a plea for him to drop this. Sympathy crosses his expression, but he doesn’t give in. The bastard never gives in. “Tell me.”
I’m scrambling, still hearing those screams, still seeing me lose control. Then and now, here and there.
Look at what you did.
I squeeze my eyes shut. But that single word, the one I’ve tried to bury so far down, it just falls out. Like a piece of cracked ceiling that finally caves, landing out in the open with an existential crack.
“Carnith.”
The word lands with an echoing slap. Unbidden, tearing free without my consent. I wish I could shove it back up in the hidden recesses, take away the sound that’s echoing between us. I shouldn’t have let it drop. I should’ve taken what happened at Ranhold and crammed them both away.
“What happened in Carnith, Auren?”
I go still. Like singing strings of a harp suddenly pinched between fingers, choking off their sound.
“I don’t want to talk about Carnith.”
“I think we should,” he says. “I think what happened in Ranhold has brought up whatever trauma you experienced in Carnith, and I think both of those things are what’s repressing your magic now.”
“My magic just can’t be trusted.”
“This was a new side to your power you hadn’t used before. It takes practice. You’ll master it.”
“Or I’ll kill everyone. Just like I almost did at Ranhold. Just like I did in…”
“Carnith,” Slade finishes for me.
My heart is beating so hard that I’m surprised it’s not bruising my veins.
“Tell me,” he urges quietly, his eyes soft, accepting. Like no matter what I tell him, he couldn’t possibly judge me for it.
He should judge me for it.
“I’ve never talked about it,” I admit on a croaked whisper.
His thumbs brush over my cheeks. “I want your past, remember? Your memories, your thoughts. Tell me, Auren. I want to help.”
How can I deny him? He’s here. He’s not walking away, no matter how hard I’ve pushed. No matter how little I deserve him. From the very beginning, he’s always seen every part of me.
I think it’s time I showed him one part that he hasn’t.
CHAPTER 30
AUREN
I was lucky.