Page 41 of Forged in Fading

Boden shook his head. “But my family⁠—”

“Will be fine.” King Ulivar’s voice softened. “I know you have already given up much for the Silver Blight. But of all of us, you know King Einar and his plans in detail. You have the most information at your disposal, which may sway Queen Myrithal. You will leave the day after tomorrow.” He gestured to Alvara. “Teach the Dalvian as much as you can in her magic before you go, she’ll need it if she’s to survive. Who knows who or what you may encounter on your journey. Katalen?”

“Yes?” Kat stood up from where she had been seated at the back of the room.

“I will draft a letter with the official seal to be sent today to the queen. I am entrusting you with it,” the king said.

“Of course.” Kat flopped back in her chair and muttered under her breath, “I’m a falcon, not a pigeon.”

Alvara caught her eye, and Kat leaned her head back, letting her tongue hang out in a dramatic fashion that almost made Alvara giggle. But Boden’s voice reached her first.

“Training. Tomorrow at dawn.”

The wind nipped at Alvara’s face, ripping her hair around despite the braids she had put in place to keep it contained. Dawn had arrived almost a half an hour ago, and Boden was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he had convinced the council that he wasn’t needed for the journey after all.

Boots stomped at the edge of the clearing, and soon enough, Boden entered. He had finally changed into a fresh set of clothes, his damp hair and tan skin clean of his recent tragedy, though his lengthy yawn and the heavy tread of his feet told her enough about how he had slept.

Steam twisted and curled from the small mug he carried, and his eyes dropped to the drink in his hand. “The world could be falling apart, and a cup of tea reminds me that there’s still good to be had.”

Alvara said nothing, but her lack of response only pulled more words from his mouth.

“I’m not fond of mornings, so I need it to get through the day,” he said, lifting his mug into the cold air. She bit back a sigh as he still continued. “Do you not know what tea is? Well, I know you have that pine needle madness you claim is tea. But you’re looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.”

“Boden,” she said slowly. “Enough about the tea. I’m waiting for you to tell me what to do.”

One side of his lips twitched. “Right. How has your training been going? I see Rav hasn’t killed you, so that must be a good sign.”

“Hardly. I can access my magic and extinguish it, but using it precisely the way I want when it’s active? Not so easy.”

“Wielding can be easier for some elves, especially those who feel things”—he took a long sip of his drink—“less intensely. But by grounding your power in your emotions, your magic is stronger than those who shut them out. Though learning control can be much more difficult, which is part of the reason many elves cut themselves off from their emotions. You’ve accessed your magic so far with anger, which is powerful but short-lived, and controlling it can feel impossible.”

“If you tell me I’m going to have to summon my magic with love, I’m going to vomit.”

Boden shrugged. “It’s the steadiest of emotions and quite strong. It will keep you calm and give you power that lasts longer and is easier to control.” His eyes glazed over, and his white breath churned in the air.

“How do you do it?” she asked. She could tell his mind had left the training grounds, and she wished they had time for him to process what he had just gone through, but Vorianta’s fate lay in their hands. “Boden?”

“Sorry. It was a long night.” His fingers tapped the side of his mug as he spoke. “When I first started with magic, mine was chaotic. I’d always experienced stronger emotions than others my age, and it made things difficult, to say the least. I learned to keep a happy memory near when I needed to anchor myself.”

A happy memory. Eloisa. Alvara closed her eyes and tried her hardest to let her mind walk through the feelings freely. But as her sister’s face surfaced, grief reared its ugly head and dug its claws into her heart. “It’s hard to think of them without…pain.”

“I understand.” Of course he did. How could he not, when he had lost his father just days ago? “But they were alive too, and if you only remember them as gone, isn’t that more painful? If you let the pain win, you let the good they did be forgotten. Like it meant nothing.”

They weren’t speaking about her anymore, but either way, he was right.

Eloisa, chatting about the new paints she had received for her birthday, while Alvara weaved her sister’s beautiful golden locks into a cascade of braids down her back. Her laugh. Alvara used to do anything she could to hear it echo through the halls of their home.

She let the sweet essence of her sister wash over her, even though it meant her sorrow circled her once again, waiting for her to break. The ice inside of her began to grow, less volatile than before, and she continued to feed her power, even as her hands tingled with cold.

“Now imagine forming a shield.” Boden’s voice sounded distant, as if he was no longer standing next to her.

Alvara did just that, envisioning a perfectly crafted shield of ice floating in front of her body. An object collided with her chest, and she jumped.

“It’s no use—” Her fingers grazed something cool and smooth. Whatever the projectile was had thudded into a rough block of ice floating in front of her, not nearly as honed as the one in her mind, but it fulfilled its purpose.

“See?”

She cobbled together a snowball and hurled it at his face. “You didn’t warn me you were going to start throwing things!”