Vesryn released a low chuckle wrapped in darkness. “While you’re at it, you can slap me around because I must be dreaming. I think I’m falling in love with this new Jassyn.”
Not dignifying the prince with a response, Jassyn rolled his eyes. He shoved past Vesryn, clipping his shoulder. Serenna’s shadows receded when she extinguished her power.
Jassyn tucked his blade back into a hidden seam, gesturing to one of the leather couches. “Serenna, you might as well get comfortable.” He glanced out the windows to the stars blossoming across the darkening sky. “I have a feeling this will take a while.”
Serenna complied, stiff-backed, with a hand braced on the armrest. Jassyn didn’t fault her unease. Vesryn wielded his magic with brutal blows rather than a refined weaving. It was no surprise that the prince’s historical attempts at mending did more harm than good.
Pursing his lips, Jassyn studied the single bruise next to the cut on Serenna’s throat. Vesryn’s obnoxious mouth had obviously wrought that one. A question nearly scorched his tongue, demanding to know what exactly had happened in the dungeons before he concluded that he didn’t really want to know.
Instead, Jassyn shot his cousin a disapproving scowl. As if sensing his attention, Vesryn ripped his eyes away from the points of Serenna’s ears. Jassyn had half a mind to cuff the prince upside the head but resisted the urge, unsure how much further his luck would hold if he continued pushing the prince.
“I’ll form a telepathic link to show you the healing lattices,” Jassyn said. He reluctantly cast out a wave of telepathy toward the prince, skin crawling at the disturbing way their minds seamlessly fused. He blew out a breath, releasing the tension pinching his shoulders. “Unfolding my knowledge into that thick skull of yours will be the fastest way for you to learn.”
Vesryn smirked as Essence streamed from his fingertips. Pulling from his Well, Jassyn’s own power sprang to life, surrounding him in a shimmering wave. Summoning his mending talent, a ruby ray of magic cascaded down his arms, pooling into his palms.
“Are you ready?” Jassyn asked Serenna. Vesryn joined him at her side. Picking at one of her nails, she divided a glance between them before nodding.
Touch her shoulder, Jassyn instructed. It’s easier for novices if there’s physical contact.
The prince shot him a look at the slight but complied, resting a glowing hand on Serenna, fingers skimming the bare skin of her neckline. Jassyn considered slapping him away when he noted the way Vesryn’s mouth quirked as she shuddered.
Jassyn speared a thought at the prince. If you’re quite finished fondling her, can we get on with it?
Vesryn’s protest was scandalized. You told me to.
Wasting a withering look on his cousin, Jassyn directed the prince’s attention toward Serenna’s less serious injuries. He fabricated the most efficient mending lattices in Vesryn’s mind to demonstrate how to heal her split lip and shallow scrapes. He hoped the prince would catch on.
Vesryn didn’t.
Their progress slowed to a crawl while the moons rose in the sky. Stars, you’re going to give her a scar if you knit her vessels backward like that. Jassyn hurriedly sent out a thread of mending to correct Vesryn’s attempt before the prince caused permanent damage.
Take away the swelling with this simple lattice I keep showing you. It’s not that hard. Jassyn cast out the same wisp of power for the third time. And I don’t even want to know about this knife wound.
She tried to kiss me, Vesryn sent back, a pathetic attempt to defend himself. Your annoyance is completely unjustified. I couldn’t let her take advantage of me in the dungeons in front of a wraith. You really should reprimand her instead.
I’m sure it’s still your fault, Jassyn snapped. Focus. Could you stop rubbing her shoulder like that for a scorching second?
Vesryn halted the motion of his fingers, muttering several curses under his breath. He wiped the sweat away from his brow with the back of his arm.
Are you this relentless with the recruits? Vesryn snarled when Jassyn corrected him once again.
Aren’t you? The initiates show more promise, anyway. You should’ve learned these skills a century ago.
Finally, after Vesryn bumbled enough with his magic, Jassyn was satisfied with the way they’d stitched Serenna back together. He couldn’t sever the telepathic link fast enough as they each released the hold on their power.
“Thank you,” Serenna said to him.
Vesryn scoffed. “I’m the one who healed you.”
Serenna sniffed and crossed her legs, angling away from the prince.
Jassyn wondered if they’d ensnare him in the crossfire of their squabbling if he lingered. While he considered if he could shuffle to the door without either of them noticing, Vesryn opened a portal, motioning him through. An obvious dismissal, but convenient nonetheless. Jassyn’s eagerness to remove himself from Vesryn’s apartments nearly had him dashing through the rift. But I don’t want to leave Serenna alone with him if she’s still upset.
Turning toward her, Jassyn assumed she’d appreciate an escape. “I’ll walk you back to your quarters if you’re ready to go.” His gaze flicked to Vesryn, but he wasn’t about to ask for permission he didn’t require. “There are a few things I think we should discuss.”
Serenna leaped from the sofa and was out the door before Jassyn could blink. Apparently she wasn’t concerned about walking across campus in sleepwear.
Jassyn quickly organized his thoughts, assembling the best way to disclose their shaman bloodlines. He’d at least inform Serenna of what he’d discovered at the Vallende estate. He wasn’t quite ready to confess that the elemental magic had manifested in him. Not yet. While he trusted her, he wasn’t ready to risk the capital finding out if the knowledge became more widespread.
The dejection in Vesryn’s face as he stared after Serenna disappearing down the corridor almost had Jassyn sympathizing with him. Almost.
Jassyn patted his cousin’s shoulder before departing. “We really need to work on your lesson planning.”
CHAPTER 10
LYKOR
Propped against the headboard, Lykor’s body jerked, his consciousness hauled out of sleep. He inhaled a sharp breath through his teeth, blinking at the tome clamped between his hand and claw. The dream of amber irises hovering above him dissipated like fog. Digging his fists into his eyes, Lykor drove out the face he saw every time he let his mind wander.
Hearing papers rustle, Lykor swiveled toward the sound and blew out a disgusted sigh. Kal’s back was to him as he sorted through reports at his desk. The last memory Lykor recalled as rending extinguished his awareness was a fountain of obsidian blood erupting from his captain’s neck.
How poetic that Aesar roused in time to deliver Kal from his own stupidity. Now it seemed like an inconvenience—not an oversight on the king’s part—that Aesar wasn’t coerced.
A muffled whistle emitted from the vents circulating heated air around the chambers. Flickering flames from pronged sconces glinted off the maces, swords, and knives festooning the walls. Kal would’ve been just as comfortable holed up in the armory, considering his dwelling contained nearly as many weapons.
These appalling rooms were becoming horridly familiar, a constant reminder of both Aesar’s relentless presence and his insistence on spending Lykor’s unconscious evenings with Kal.
Frustration had Lykor hurtling the book clutched in his claw across the bed, almost rending his captain of his own volition. Shoving a strand of silver hair away from his eyes, Lykor irritably growled, cursing Aesar for not bothering to return their body to their own quarters. He presumed it was near dawn and sensed that Aesar was slumbering—and would be for the next few hours if left undisturbed.
