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“Breathe.”
About to come out of her skin, Truly trembled with the effort. Cool air in. Hot air out. Each inhale a challenge, every exhale painful.
Gritting her teeth, she pressed her hands against the table. The itch in the center of her palms grew hotter. The glow intensified. Ribbons of blue light spilled between the wide spread of her fingers. The internal inferno fueled her. The heat raging in her veins pushed her. Shock and sorrow collided, giving birth to fury, as tiny tornados of fire twisted up from beneath her hands, licking over her skin without harming her.
Her touch scorched the tabletop.
The flickering blaze should’ve worried her. What she was seeing and feeling qualified as insane. It wasn’t normal.She wasn’t normal.The glow and heat didn’t leave room for denial, but as she watched ribbons of flames dance — over her fingers, under her hands — and smoke curled up from the wooden surface, she embraced the pain. Felt the fury. And tasted the power, her heart and mind churning, her rage so bright she wanted to lay waste to it all. Burn the house, her grief, the whole world down until nothing but ash remained.
Her mother was dead.
Dead. Never to be seen or heard from again.
No second chances, or late-life reunions. Just…gone.
When had it happened? Right after she set Truly down on those church steps?
Agony sliced even deeper. The blaze under her palms burned brighter. Truly let it, wanting to use what she didn’t understand to burn the hurt away. To cause death. To wreak destruction. For others to hurt as much as she did now that she knew her mother hadn’t left her by choice. She’d been trying to protect her baby by giving her away. By placing her with those who could see to her care until she came of age. Until Truly was able to step into her power and…
“Truly!” Westvane barked, locking eyes with her. His black gaze bored into hers, reflecting the blue glow shimmering in her own eyes.
The sight made her flinch.
Braving the flames, he stood, leaned forward, and set his hands, palms flat, on either side of hers. “Calm.”
The band squeezing her lungs loosened. She sucked in a shaky breath. “She’s dead.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
Holding his gaze, she used it as a lifeline and pulled herself back from the edge. Her palms cooled. The fire-tornados spun low and vanished. The furious glow dimmed as, little by little, she gained control, breathing in, exhaling out, playing catch and release until her chest stopped heaving and her throat stopped burning. Now, all she felt was raw.
Her nose stung as she fought the tears she’d spent a lifetime denying. “Why? Why, Westvane?”
“She was a Door Master. Of equal power and authority. A threat to Lyonesse’s rule,” he said, tone soft with understanding. “Just as you are.”
“I’m going to kill her.”
“Not if I reach her first.”
Her eyes narrowed on him.
He stared back. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“What kind?”
“Start the fight, weaken Lyonesse all you want, but…” His dark eyes flashed. Something dark. Something dangerous. Something so lethal, it made her skin prickle. “I deal the death blow.”
Unwilling to concede, but knowing now was not the time to argue, Truly took another steadying breath. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“Princess —”
“She killed my mother, Westvane.”
“I understand. Believe me, I am well acquainted with that kind of pain, but —”
