“Look,” I say, pointing each of the three clues Moira left for us. “Certain single letters are darker. Maybe it’s not because the others are faded but because she went over these specific letters multiple times. I think it’s a code.”
Her eyes widen in understanding. She grabs her pack from the bed and hands me a pen. At the bottom of each page, I write the bolded letters in a line that looks like we’re playing a game of hangman. When I finish, we have three clear words.
HARNESS. CORSET. GAUNTLETS.
Taryn frowns. “Well, that was a fun game that yielded a whole lot of nonsense.”
Scratching my beard in thought, I wonder just how much of my life my grandmother was able to see before she passed. “It definitely could be nonsense,” I agree. “But it also might be genius.”
Grabbing my pack, I sling it on and take her hand. “Come on, I have an idea,” I say, leading her toward the bedroom door.
“Where are we going?”
“On a field trip. I just hope I brought enough rope.”
THIRTY-SIXTARYN
“I’d like the record to show that I still don’t think this is a good idea.”
Finn gives me a half-grin as he works on finishing the rope gauntlet on my left forearm. “Noted.”
Sighing, I distract myself with the beauty of our surroundings. When Finn asked me to take him somewhere out of the way and isolated, I brought him here, to the valley where Devlyn and I played and trained when we were younger.
On one side is a stretch of tall trees with dense canopies that form a natural border. A meandering stream runs perpendicular to the woods, the peaceful sound of the water trickling over rocks creating a meditative ambiance I’ll need for what I’m about to attempt. And a large hill covers the remaining sides which should provide us with cover from anyone who might be looking in this direction.
Unless I set the entire valley on fire. That’ll be hard to hide.
That’s right. Finn’s bright idea is for me to practice using my Mystic powers while tied in a shibari corset and gauntlets. And I’m scared to fucking death. Thankfully, the extra compression of the ropes is keeping my anxiety to a dull roar inside my head, instead of the usual horror-flick screaming that happens whenever I think about using my powers.
“You know, I don’t know what Edevane was talking about when he said my mother changed. She’s exactly the same as I remember her.”
Finn’s eyes flick up to mine before refocusing on his work. “She doesn’t take audiences with her people anymore, so that’s different,” he says casually. “Why do you think that is?”
I scoff. “She could’ve decided it wasn’t worth her time as easily as decided giving people the chance to voice grievances made them weak or gave her wrinkles. Who the hell knows with her.”
He nods, and I can tell he’d like to say more—probably to agree with me—but the habit of biting his tongue when it comes to unfavorable opinions of the OTQ is too ingrained for him to break. “Can I ask you something else?” he says instead.
“Of course.”
“Why didn’t you tell her about your dad earlier?”
A chill runs down my spine at the reminder of what I held back from her in the throne room. I almost blurted it out when she was being so obtuse about the severity of the threat, but I couldn’t get myself to spit the words out. “She hasn’t earned the right to know what he sacrificed.”
Finn pauses and gives me a sympathetic look. He doesn’t tell me how wrong I am or push me to examine or rethink my position. He simply tells me in the silent way he has that he supports whatever decision I make. That he supports me. And it means more to me than I’ll ever be able to put into words, so I stay silent, too.
Dropping his hands after one final tail tuck, he says, “Okay, you’re all set. I added a corset to the chest harness, so you’re tied from your shoulders to your waist, and a gauntlet on each forearm where your magic flows through to your hands. How does it all feel?”
Peering down at the intricate designs, I study the webbing of ropes he created with strategically placed knots. The end result looks like lavender armor molded to my torso and arms. I have to admit I look pretty badass, but…
I chew on my bottom lip, unable to ignore the trepidation curling in my stomach. “It feels great, Finn, but I don’t know how this is supposed to protect me.”
“It’s not for protection, it’s for control. Listen to me,” he says, his voice brimming with reassurance. “You once said that your normal magic is like a contained fire in a hearth, but your Mystic powers are a brushfire. Right?”
“Right. When I tap into that well, it’s like the dam breaks and I become flooded with so much power that it just explodes from me.”
“Exactly,” he says excitedly, his hands settling on my hips. “Think of a balloon. With too much air pumped into it, it pops. But create a contained space for that balloon and it can’t get any bigger than what’s comfortable, so it doesn’t pop. That’s what these ropes are doing. It’s giving you the sensation of your magic being contained to help you feel in control of your powers.”
“That…actually makes a strange sort of sense,” I say reluctantly. “It won’t be an instant fix, though, if it works at all.”
“Which is why we’ll practice. But I really think this can work. We’ll go slow, okay?”
I nod as I swallow against the tightening of my throat. “It’s worth a shot.”
Violet fire flares to life at my feet. It grows with every ragged breath I take, turning into a fiery tornado swirling around me that whips at my hair and the skirt of my gown but never burns me.
Suddenly, my muscles lock, my back bowing as an atomic blast of power detonates in my chest and sends flames shooting in every direction. They spread across the floor and lick at the walls, the rich tapestries burning like dry tinder and turning to ash.
“Come on, sweetheart, stay with me. Don’t step back into the past. Be present with me in this moment.” His hands press in as he follows the direction of the strands at my waist to settle on my lower back, encouraging me to relax against him and just breathe. “You can do this, solnyshko. I believe in you.”
Stepping back, I summon the courage I’ve always relied on in battles. This lack of control is just another foe to beat. “Okay, I’m ready,” I say, shaking out my hands. “But step back. Like way back.” He takes a whole two steps and plants his feet. I’m not amused. “Finn. I’m serious.”
Crossing his massive arms over his chest, his expression remains impassive. “So am I. I’m sure you’ve heard of the ‘power of suggestion’. If I put fifty feet between us, that’s sending your subconscious the message that I’m worried about you hurting me. But I’m not, so I’ll stay right here.”
I growl in frustration, but I know an immovable object when I see one. “Fine. It’s your barbeque,” I say petulantly.
I’m not serious, though. Because deep down I know I’ll do everything I can not to hurt him. I cared deeply for him back in that cavern, but my feelings for him have grown exponentially since then. Despite not being able to say the words, I have fallen in love with him. And a bond this strong is something not even magic will ignore.
“Start by taking deep, cleansing breaths,” he encourages softly. “Listen to the calming sounds around you and allow yourself to fall into a meditative state.”
Closing my eyes, I do as he instructs. Several minutes pass, and I’m in such a relaxed state that I’m almost surprised when he speaks again.
“Good,” he says. “Now start by cracking open that door to your Mystic powers. Release it in small doses, like the flickering flame of a candle.”
My fingers tremble slightly as I summon my Mystic power, my magic crackling ever so gently in the air. We both watch in awe as ethereal wisps of energy curl around my fingers, shimmering strands of violet light.
“That's it,” he murmurs proudly. “Embrace its warmth but control the flow.”
“I’m doing it,” I say in a shocked whisper.
“Yeah, you fucking are, baby.” He grins widely at me. “Now try cracking that door open a little more. Give yourself access to about 10% of what’s there if you can.”
With newfound determination, I allow a bit more of the magic through that barrier. My eyes widen with amazement as the tendrils respond, growing brighter and more vibrant. Slowly, I guide them to extend down my hands to where the gauntlets start at my wrists, dancing and swirling with my intention.
A glimmer of confidence sparks in my chest. It might not be much, but this is more control than I’ve ever felt.
“Excellent, little sun,” he praises. “Now pull it all back and close the door.”
The order shocks me enough that that’s exactly what I do, although I’m not sure if it was entirely intentional. “Is that it? That’s all we’re going to do?”
