Page 142 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

When she doesn’t answer, I slip out from under her, tucking her in tight. Checking on the fire once more, I’m about to slip from her room when she says, “Finn said when you live that long, you get to do whatever you want. He said I could learn to play every instrument or visit every beach in the galaxy. He promised he would do it with me.”

My brows furrow in confusion. “Finn?”

He’s a clan leader, a warrior, and yet he’s spending his time promising my sister the galaxy. I remember Raea mentioning his ability to sense a soul's true nature. If he’s hovering around Clara, it isn’t kindness—he’s seeing a future for her that I’m not sure I’m ready to face. The thought of my little sister becoming an immortal in this cosmic game makes my protective instincts flare, sharper and more jagged than they ever were as a human.

She hums, sleep overtaking her. “He’s been helping me,” she whispers, and then she’s asleep.

Raea’s still asleep as I exit our rooms in search of Riven. I know he’s around here somewhere. I take the stairs up to the main level, finding him in an alcove with a cup of coffee, looking over some missives.

Gods, it would be nice to feel useful again. He looks up when I approach, greeting me with a nod. “Coffee?”

I grab an empty mug from the shelf and then take a seat across from him. He pours the dark liquid into the mug before sitting back, arms crossed. “Can we head to Zhaerinth? I need to work off some energy.” The training grounds appeal to me like they never have before.

Riven snorts, brushing his long, dark hair back, revealing a string of tattoos that wind up his neck. “You’ll find that Fae warriors tend to have more energy than most. You get used to it.” He pauses, looking out across the cavern to the other side. “I’ll open a gateway for you, but I can’t come. I have a…meeting with our benevolent king.” The way he bites out that last part makes it obvious how he truly feels.

“You sure?” I take a sip. “Seems like you could blow off some steam beforehand.”

He sighs before slamming his hands down upon the table, nearly sloshing the coffee over the edge of both our mugs. “Fuck it. Carys will have my ass if I show up grumpy or show up late. At least this way I’ll be far more appeasing."

We abandon our coffee and head up to the gardens. His hands move as we walk, never breaking our long strides as we walk from one place to the next. Gateways are far more efficient than hyperjumps. I do miss the silence and the feeling of freedom that comes with space travel, but when you need to get somewhere, yeah, this is the way to go.

“We’re going to work through some of your magic,” Riven says, not even looking back. “You feel like you’re going to explode.”

I look down at my hands as we enter one of the training pits. “Is that what I’m feeling? I just feel…on edge.”

Riven nods, tying his hair back. “You’ll start to understand it the more you use it. For now, I just want you to focus on expelling it. I’ll handle the rest.”

I raise a brow, staring back at the warrior. “You’ll handle it?”

With a smirk, he says, “You’ll see.”

An hour later, the training pit is a wreck of mud, ice, and air split open by magic. I’m vibrating with power. The magic doesn’t feel like a tool anymore, but an extension of my own limbs.

Where I used to strain for a spark, I now have to clench my fists to keep from calling down the entire sky. I move with a lethality that feels terrifyingly natural, my body answering Riven’s strikes before he even fully commits to them. I almost laugh at myself. I’m no longer playing at being a warrior. What I was before, the lack of strength and power, was a joke. Now, I’m becoming the damn storm.

Across the field, Riven calls for water. I only have to think it before it’s a deluge of water pouring down on him. When he summons air, I send a gust his way, drying out his clothes.

He’s enjoying this way too much. He told me that while there are water and air elementals in the Fae ranks, there’s never been a Stormborne Fae, at least not for a thousand years. He said his father spoke of them like legends from his time. The last heir was trapped in Caelestis when the Veil went up. They assumed the line had disappeared altogether.

Riven asks for snow as he stands in the center of the field now. This is one we haven’t practiced, but again, I think of the rain and the cold air mixing high above in the clouds, and it’s only moments before the small flakes fall upon the field, leaving the green grass dusted in fat white flakes.

Riven throws his head back, howling like a damn dog when a gateway opens to our left, and Carys steps out. I see her before he does, and she does not look happy.

“Carys.” I dip my chin, blasting Riven with air to get his attention. He nearly falls on his ass as his head swings in our direction.

With a sheepish wave, he says, “Hey, Carys.”

With our Fae hearing, he doesn’t have to yell across the clearing. She, however, does yell. “Riven, godsdamn you, get your ass to the palace now!”

It only takes a moment before he’s in front of us, his dark clothes soaked through. His gaze swings to me and then back to hers as she glares at him, taking in the soaked tunic.

I not so subtly blast him with some heated air, sending him ass over end in my attempts to dry him off. I still haven’t figured out how to throttle it. It’s why he’s been standing far, far away from me.

Carys rolls her eyes, muttering some curse words in the ancient tongue of the High Fae. I only know this thanks to the knowledge I now contain. It’s still unbelievable that I carry thousands of years of history.

She disappears back through the gateway as Riven comes striding to my side.

I cover my laugh with a cough as I take in his windblown appearance.