Page 96 of The City Of Fractured Memory

She nods. “Exactly. So don’t you think it’s a bit strange that both leaders of the cult just happened to each have a child that fits the prophecy? What are the chances of that?”

“Literally zero,” Riven growls, his concerned gaze fixed on me, and I swallow hard.

“You’re right,” I whisper, my stomach twisting. “There must be something we’re still missing. But we don’t have the luxury of time anymore. Right now, we need to figure out where they’re keeping the Codex. We need to stop this first, ask questions later.”

I look between them both—my unlikely ally and steadfast friend—and feel the weight of what’s coming settle on my shoulders.

Riven’s hand rests on my thigh under the table, his thumb grazing my skin as his gaze flickers toward the window, toward the city beyond. “I know where to start,” he murmurs. “But you’re not going to like it.”

Forty

“Literally no one, nor their mother, asked for your opinions,” I growl at Riven, my patience wearing dangerously thin as I slump face down on the desk. He chuckles darkly, gently grabbing my chin and lifting my head back up, our faces inches apart.

“Stop getting so pissed off.”

“I’m not pissed off, this is just my face,” I grumble, waving his hand away. All I want to do is start searching for the Codex, but Riven is deliberately withholding vital information on its apparent whereabouts until I practice my magic with him first. Given that our time is rapidly running out, ‘pissed off’ doesn’t come close to describing how I’m feeling, but I have to admit he may have a point about me running into danger unprepared. It’s the sole reason why I’m currently sitting in his office, listening to him prattle on about the nuances of Echofae magic.

We were going to stay in my apartment, until Stryx gave me a horrified look, muttering about ‘explosions’.

I literally lost control one time.

I glare sideways at Quill, currently rapidly scrawling notes on everything Riven says.

“Teacher’s pet,” I mutter, and he bristles indignantly. Though his usual sassiness doesn’t hit me the same way now I know what, or rather who, he actually is.

Riven stands in front of the desk with his arms folded, expression flat and immovable. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m certain you have at least some control of your magic,” he reminds me.

I throw my hands up, rising from my seat. “Riven, we don’t have time for this. They could be using the Codex right now–”

“And you,” he cuts in sharply, “barely understand the magic running through your veins. If you walk into danger like this, you will die. Or worse.”

I glare at him, ready to fight, but he lifts a hand—two fingers raised—and the air around us hums, faint blue light rippling through the air like reflections on water. My breath catches. The pull I always feel between us goes taut, and my magic inside me stirs in response to his.

“Sit,” he orders.

I sit, mostly out of shock and partly because my legs suddenly feel unsteady.

Riven moves behind me, lowering to one knee so we’re level. He takes my hands in his and guides them into the proper shape for me. “You’re pushing too hard,” he murmurs. “Our magic responds to intent, not brute force like the Veyne.”

“I’m not forcing anything,” I snap, residual panic threatening to rise at the mention of the awful magic I’ve been inadvertently channeling. Though to my surprise, Riven’s reaction when I admitted it to him an hour ago hadn’t been one of horror like everyone else, more anger…and a little pity.

He exhales in a long-suffering sigh. “Intent is not the same as flailing blindly and hoping the universe does you a favour.”

I whip my head round to glare at him. “Are you teaching me or insulting me?”

“Both,” he says. “You seem to learn faster that way.”

My mouth drops open in outrage. “Do you get off on seeing me suffer or something?”

He spins my chair roughly until my back is against the desk, and he leans in close, his hands gripping the desk either side of me, caging me in. He runs his nose along the shell of my ear, his breath hot on my neck. “I thought I’d enjoy watching you squirm, but then I realised I liked seeing you smile more. So do as you're told. Or there’ll be consequences.”

He pulls back slightly so we are at eye level, his gaze heated. I consider asking whether that’s a threat or a promise, but before I can, he pulls me to my feet and presses one palm lightly against my back, right between my shoulder blades, the other resting gently on my chest. Heat rushes up my spine, unexpected and entirely intoxicating.

“Focus,” he says, his voice lower. “Your magic sits here. Dormant. You have to draw from it, not wrestle it.”

His breath brushes my neck as he leans closer to adjust my posture. I go tense for a whole different reason.

“Lift your chin,” he murmurs.