Page 42 of Beauty

My hands are shaking. “I’m open to suggestions, brother. Shetransmits well, but she never listens.”

“Make her.”

I can feel Lach’s will pressing on me. It’s a palpablething. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m opening myself up. I’m done letting this thing controlme. We need power to connect us to her. Well, I know where my power comes from,and there’s a trail of dead between us and her. I can feel it. I can use it topush my way into her head.”

I have to sit for a moment and let what’s happening settleinside. The phooka showed us what we don’t want to face. We fear each other. Wefear ourselves. But what if we don’t have to? What if we can figure out a wayto control our power, to use our natural elements to fuel our power, and not theother way around?

I close my eyes, trying to push Bron’s panic aside. I feelthe fire in the Harper’s hearth. The power rushes along my skin. That fireleads to another, a stronger fire, a bonfire somewhere along the road. It’s allconnected, a line of flame and heat that bounces to another. Each one I grabhold of flares, possibly sending the Fae who sits around it reeling back a bit,but I keep control. The fire doesn’t bloom out, burning anyone. I can do this.

Lead me to her.

I breathe deeply, the smell of flames and smoldering embersfilling my every sense. This is my home, given to me the day I bonded with mymate, connecting me to the other half of my soul.

“So many dead,” my brother whispers.

Lach’s power is a cold chill that runs up my spine. Mybrother is so strong, but he fears his gifts. “Yes, so many dead who can leadthe way to Bronwyn. Don’t stop.”

“I have her.” Lach opens his mind and, sure enough, I feelher. The connection is right there, stronger than ever.

I grab it, letting go of my own hunt, the fires dying downfor now. “Hold the connection. Can you do it?”

Lach’s voice is firm and in control. “I have it. She’s in ajail. There’s a cemetery a short distance from it, but the place is coated indeath. It’s easy, Shim. I can see her. Gods, I can feel how scared she is.She’s going to try something foolish.”

“Stop, a stóirín.” I put a wealth of power behindthe word. I shove every dominant trait I possess into that one word, sending itover the line that runs from me to Lach to Bronwyn.

Nothing.

“She can’t hear,” Lach says. “But I think she can feel. Iclenched my fists and she clenched hers, almost like she was answering me.She’s trying to work the lock open. I think there’s a guard right outside herdoor. They’ll kill her, or we could lose her. She could run and we wouldn’t beable to find her. The war is about to start.”

I’m aware of all the ways this can quickly go very, verybadly. “We have to calm her down.”

She isn’t listening, or talking doesn’t work the way wethink it does. This connection is new to us. To be able to communicate whenwe’re all conscious is brand-new territory. But if she can feel, then I knowwhat to do.

“Hold the connection, brother,” I say to my other half. “Iknow how to turn our mate’s mind to something that won’t get her killed.”

ChapterThirteen

Bronwyn

I shudder, the cold threatening to overtake me. Theydidn’t even leave a blanket in the frigid, dank cell they tossed me into.There’s nothing but a cot and a bucket. I don’t like to think about what thebucket is for.

My head aches. I wonder if Ove is even alive.

I have to get out of here. I have to. If I stay the night,they’ll execute me in the morning.

Goddess, what did I do? I felt the heat in my hands, rollingup from my soul. I called it. It was mine to command. Little Ove was lying onthe ground, her fragile body seconds from being kicked apart by brutal feet. Ididn’t think. I acted, and the world around me went up in flames. It wasnatural. I didn’t fear the fire.

But I’m afraid of the cold I feel now.

I’m going to ignore it. I’m scared. Of course I am. I’mlocked in a prison. I have every right to be scared. My head throbs. Whathappened? I remember everything up to the fire coursing through my veins. I’m apyromancer. It’s the only explanation. I need to come to terms with it. Itcould help me enormously.

I’m done. Watching sweet Ove lying there in the dirtcrystalized my resolve. I need to stop hiding. One way or another, I’m going tobe Bronwyn Finn again. In life. In death. If Torin is looking for me, maybeit’s time to make myself available to the rebels. Gillian is wrong. My only jobisn’t to stay alive. My job is to fight.

I look around my small cell. They didn’t place me in thejail, but in the private cell of the sheriff’s office. A thick oak door with asmall rectangular hole stands in the way of me and freedom. I must get out.Staring at the door, I try to call the fire forth.

Nothing.