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“If she is gasping for air, it is not due to being submerged. She can create pockets of air under the water. Her body does not know that, so it reacts as it would to survive,” he said simply. “She needs totrain, not just physically, but with her magic. She needs to learn to control her power.”
“I know,” Sorin answered with a frown. “I’ve tried to tell her. She even said she was ready when she knocked me on my ass with a jet stream of water from her palm earlier today.” Briar barked a laugh at the words. “But I know her. Callan just shoved her back into a dark place. I’m hoping she is still willing.”
“Maybe she needs to see why?” Briar ventured carefully.
“No,” Sorin said firmly. “I will not take Scarlett to her. Not now.”
Briar nodded reluctantly. “Has she shown any signs of accepting her bloodline?”
“No,” Sorin sighed. “In fact, she has adamantly refused wanting anything to do with it.”
Briar stood now, a water portal appearing nearby. “She will need to see and meet her sooner than later, Sorin. At least let it be on our terms. See you at dinner.” He stepped through before Sorin could reply.
Sorin left the private training pits, walking back to his chambers and taking the various stairs and hallways to give himself a little more time to prepare for what he might find back in his rooms. He opened his door, the wards recognizing his touch. The sitting room was empty, so he crossed to the bedroom. He found her not in the bathing room but curled on the balcony. She was lying on the ground, her cheek pressed to the cool stone floor. Her shadows swirled around her like a cocoon. They were so thick he could hardly see her. He rushed to her side, dropping to his knees. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was uneven, too fast.
He reached for her and when his hand touched her mass of shadows, her eyes snapped open. The blue of her eyes had turned nearly grey, a muted silver. “Come, Love,” he said, reaching for her again. “Let’s go inside.”
“No,” she whispered. “It is too much.”
“What is?”
“All of it. I cannot get up right now.” She had retreated towherever she went inside her soul. Her eyes were distant, looking through him.
“Then I will carry you,” he replied, preparing to scoop her off the ground. It was warm, but snow had indeed begun falling. Small sporadic flakes stuck to her hair where they slipped through the shadows.
“No,” she said.
“Scarlett—”
“I said no.” Not angry. Not upset. Just a statement. She closed her eyes and began tracing the stones of the balcony with her finger. Her chest continued to rise and fall rapidly, like she couldn’t get a full breath down.
Sorin laid down on that stone balcony, facing her. She did not even open her eyes when she reached for him, her hand resting on his chest. He stilled for a moment. She didn’t move, but her breaths began to even out. They began to match his own.
After several minutes, she opened her eyes and looked straight into his own.
“What do you need, Scarlett? How can I help you?”
“Do you still see the light?” she asked quietly, barely audible.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because I know where to look,” he answered gently.
“Then I need you to show me where to find it.”
She closed her eyes once more, and they laid on that balcony in the falling flurries. They stayed there for nearly an hour, her breathing now perfectly in sync with his own. Her shadows slowly crept over him until he was part of her darkness. She did not remove her hand from his chest. He did not reach for her. He just sat with her in the dark.
Chapter 8
Scarlett
“How did you fill this closet this fast? And with my exact sizes?” Scarlett called out to the bedroom. The walk-in closet that had been half full when she’d awakened that morning now had every shelf, nook, and cranny full. Sorin’s clothing and items were still where they’d been, but now dresses and feminine sweaters and tunics and pants filled the space, as well as shoes and jewelry. She reached for a beautiful, dark purple sweater, the fabric soft as suede between her fingers.
“You’ve been asleep for days. I had some time on my hands,” he answered, his voice drifting in to her.
She walked to the closet and leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. “You had nothing better to do while I slept than build me a wardrobe?” she asked him doubtfully. He was sprawled across the chaise lounge under the window. He wore dark charcoal pants with a dark red tunic and a black jacket.
