“Are you trying to avoid storms because of me? I told you not to do that.”
“Yes, but the last time we encountered a storm, you looked like you wanted to rip my jugular out with your teeth. And I’m rather partial to it.”
She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, as if that could pull back in the words, undo this entire conversation. She made herself meet his eyes. “Whatever is happening to me, I will find a way to control it. I’m lasting longer every time before I have to take Rezna’s rest. You don’t need to coddle me.”
“I’m not exactly up to full speed yet either,” he said, but his shoulder had not stopped him from participating in any of the recent storms. “You must learn to trust my judgment, Roar. There is nothing wrong with being strategic.”
“That would imply you were actually teaching me how to take magic, how to defeat a storm, teaching me anything besides how much torture my body can endure before my legs commit mutiny.”
His eyes dipped down, raking her from head to toe. “Your legs look fine to me.” She drew in a sharp breath and fisted her hands against the urge to hit him. Insufferable man.
“As for our training,” Locke continued, “setting aside the fact that you are not ready to face a storm until you can keep control of your mind, I am teaching you the only things I can.” She knew it was stupid to pick this fight, knew that she could not possibly win this argument and it only hurt to have it, but she was so frustrated; she needed some way to release all this built-up tension. Locke continued: “I’m teaching your body to fight past pain, past fatigue. I’m teaching your mind how to make choices under pressure and react to any circumstance.” He moved in close and pushed a blunt finger against her chest above where her heart was beating rapidly. “And here … right here, I’m teaching you to trust yourself, to believe in your own strength. Skimming magic is the easy part. As long as you are near the heart of the storm, Jinx’s enchantments will do the work for you. But you have to live long enough to get close and get away.” His finger was still jabbed into her chest, his expression fierce. “The one thing I cannot teach you is how to defeat a storm. That you have to learn yourself.”
“Learn how?” she asked.
He tapped his finger above her heart twice more, and then pulled away. “You simply must have the stronger heart. You must have no doubts, no fear. You must want to survive more than the storm does. When you drive your hand into the heart of a storm, it in turn drives into you. It will search out every weakness, every insecurity. If you are afraid to die, it will know. I’ve seen hunters with tremendous skill—fast and strong and calm under pressure—crumble under the intensity of facing a storm heart to heart. The battle is different for every person, for every storm, but one thing always holds true—only one heart gets to live on. So tell me, Roar, do you think you are ready? Look into yourself and decide—are you willing to bet your life on it?”
Blood rushed in Roar’s ears, and her stomach writhed with nausea. Of course, she was not ready. She might have believed in herself when this journey began, but no more. It was torture not being able to trust her own mind, to trust that she would not hurt those around her.
The rest of the hunters had gathered throughout Locke’s speech, and mortification burned across her cheeks. With a hard, smug look Sly added, “It’s about honesty. A storm cuts through to the truth of who you are. If it finds darkness and deceit in you, it will win. It is only the purest hearts that come out unscathed.”
There was no question that Sly’s tone implied Roar would be found wanting. Jinx snorted, breaking the tension, and said, “Oh yes. I’m sure we’ve got the purest hearts around.” Ransom’s deep chuckle followed, and Jinx said to Roar, “Don’t let them frighten you too much. It is dangerous, to be sure, but in the end magic is simply an extension of a person’s will. If you want it badly enough, you can make it yours.”
She nodded, and one by one the other hunters scattered. Some sat to eat; others returned to their tents. Before he left, Ransom stepped up behind her and folded one of his huge hands over her shoulder. “I was impatient too. So much so that I refused to cook until they gave me my shot. But not even holding my cooking ransom worked.” He winked, blue eyes sparkling. “They made do with gruel and refused to let me risk myself before I was ready. And they were right in the end. Trust is a muscle, same as any other. It gets stronger the more you use it. Trust Locke. Trust us. And trusting yourself will come far easier, I promise you.”
She put aside thoughts of storms for the moment. Loath as she was to admit it, Locke was right. There was no point in him teaching her anything more until she proved she could stand in the presence of a storm without losing herself. The more immediate problem was their route, but she could not exactly tell them why she did not want to head south, not without revealing her secret.
If they encountered Pavanian soldiers, would her disguise hold? Was she selfish enough to risk her companions’ lives? For if she were found in their company, the soldiers would assume them her kidnappers. She had known her plan was reckless, but she had thought only of the potential danger to herself, not to them.
More and more, it seemed as if she had more reasons to leave than stay with the hunters.
“Don’t look so glum, child. Feeling sorry for yourself won’t help.”
She looked at Duke through the flickering tendrils of fire. He looked older in the low light, the lines on his face accented by shadow. “I am more angry at myself than sorry. I know I am impatient. And reckless and tempestuous and stubborn. I want to be different, I do. But all my life, I’ve felt like something was left out when I was made, like a recipe with a missing ingredient. And it didn’t matter how hard I tried to be better because something in me was inherently … wrong. As if I’d been put into the wrong life by mistake.”
“Sounds to me like the only wrong thing was trying to force yourself to be something you are not. Locke is stubborn, Jinx is beyond tempestuous, and I—” He looked down at the multitude of scars that crisscrossed his arms and hands. “I have been known to be reckless a time or two. People are not recipes to be carefully measured and mixed together. Life is imprecise and messy.”
“But do I have what it takes to be a hunter?”
Duke tangled his fingers in his beard, his green eyes soft with knowing. “No one can decide that but you. Think about that book you love so much. Many called that expedition insane, impossible. But you can never know if something is, in fact, impossible until you have tried. And perhaps, not even then. Not until you’ve tried for an entire lifetime.”
“You were a sailor too, weren’t you?”