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I flapped my wings lightly back and forth, then raised and lowered them. My muscles had gotten stronger, but they were still weak from years of disuse. “Ruslan, she needs more muscle work. She is structurally sound, but weak. I see no obvious deformities.”
Ruslan heaved a sigh of relief, though my face puzzled at Rares’s comment. “What do you mean, deformities? Is that common?”
Rares circled to my front, once more eyeing me closely. His distrust was obvious, but he handed over the information anyway. “Many Félvér are born with deformities. Many times spinal deformities, especially among winged races. That is why we have only selected more powerful lines in recent decades.”
“How can you possibly get such strong males and females to agree to this?” I demanded, the knowledge of their trafficking springing to the front of my mind. Ruslan growled low, awarning that this was not a topic for us to discuss. I shot him a glare, indignation overtaking my anxiety.
Rares looked between us, cleared his throat, and changed the subject. “I would like to test your magical abilities now.”
Rulsan took one step back, but went no further, watching both Rares and me carefully.
I called magic to my hands, and balls of pure white energy floated above both palms. Rares made notes, then requested I form shapes with it. My magic emboldened me, and that inner fire sprang to life as I tapped into it. I conjured a horse, life size with wispy hairs that moved with an invisible breeze. A hint of my thorns poked through with this creation, if only to deter them from fucking with me while I was in such a vulnerable position. Rares and Ruslan lifted their brows, impressed.
“Have you attempted any other magic other than manipulating energy?” Rares inquired.
I thought about everything my friends had taught me. Endre taught me healing magic, and that was easy. Creative magic and I did not mix. Infusing Kazimir with strength sprung to mind, but revealing that I could influence others’ actions would put me at risk. It was one of the only ways I held the upper hand. “I can heal others,” I offered.
Rares scowled, clearly displeased with my basic answer. He looked at Ruslan. “I’m going to need to test her abilities further. Please fetch Zuriel.”
Ruslan looked down his nose at Rares. “You fetch him. I am staying with my mate.”
The old Mage huffed, then shot over his shoulder as he exited the room, “She’s not your mate until you both accept the bond.”
Fire erupted from Ruslan’s body as the comment snapped the last of his self-control. His rage consumed me, eating up my spine until I felt like landing a killing blow to Rares’s frail neck.White magic erupted from my palms, trapping me in a bubble in the center of the space, as Ruslan’s fire and fury passed over me like water flowing around a boulder in the center of a stream.
The shield I had instinctively erected blocked more than just physical attacks.
The fire fell away, revealing a panting, crazed Ruslan. The set of his jaw made me glad my shield still stood. Behind it, I breathed a sigh of relief, fear long held in check lifting from my tense and trembling body.
A few minutes passed, then Rares returned with a lanky male, his unbound white hair falling past his shoulders. He was beautiful in a way that was unearthly, a soft glow seeming to fill the air around him when he walked – no, glided – into the room. His eyes were ice blue, so pale and yet so intense in their wisdom, like he had seen more than any of us could ever comprehend.
His face was passive as he took in the scene, though he approached my shield, releasing his clasped hands and touching them to the white energy. His back was to Rares and Ruslan, and he winked at me before popping the shield like it was a bubble made of the thinnest soap. My wings disappeared along with it, and I felt less powerful as my magic slumbered in my chest once more. I pulled my tunic over my head, adjusting it so I was fully covered, then looked to the Angel.
A tendril of something brushed against my mind, nearly startling me with its unfamiliarity. The Angel, Zuriel, held my gaze, his eyes – so similar to mine – pleading with me. He must have been the one asking for entrance, and I opened it to him, curious about this new magic.
“I am Zuriel. Ithuriel, your father, was my uncle. You are an empath, yes?”
“What’s an empath? How are we speaking like this? Do they know we can do this? How did you get here?”
“No, they do not know. Let me take your hands so I can examine you. I will answer all your questions in time. For now, follow my lead, cousin.”
I allowed Zuriel to take my hands and he ran his fingers across my palms, much like Rares had.
“Being an empath is a very rare gift, even among Angels. Our grandmother was one. You absorb the emotions of others. Have you ever felt emotions that weren’t your own?”
“Yes, just now. The shield protected me from Ruslan’s rage.”
“There is another side to this gift – the ability to manipulate others’ emotions. You can push as well as pull.”
My brows threatened to lift, but I managed to maintain a neutral expression despite the shock that stole my breath. If Ruslan and Rares knew…
“Yes, they know. They suspected that Ithuriel and Liessa’s union would produce an empath. The gift skips generations. But they do not know the full capabilities of such a gift.”
“I can manipulate others' actions as well. I imbued strength in my real mate, Kazimir, during a fight once. And another time, I stopped someone from moving altogether. But it was incredibly draining.”
“You are gifted indeed. Most empaths can’t influence at that level. Do not speak of it to them. But I must tell them you are an empath now.”
“She is an empath,” Zuriel confirmed, spinning to face Ruslan and Rares, the latter’s triumphant grin almost sickening in its glory. “But to hone this gift, she will need special training with me.”
