“No, before that.”
Her brows knit together as she thinks back. “I said you can power harness me any time. Doesn’t make a lot of sense, but you know what I mean. I’m a tad floaty at the moment.”
Holy shit. Could it really be that simple?
Since reading my grandmother’s letter, I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to decipher the cryptic parts we haven’t made sense of yet, specifically how I’m supposed to harness the magic that saves Faerie. Even knowing I have seer abilities now—barely—they aren’t something that will help against what we’re facing.
I feel like a safe cracker with my ear to the door as I slowly turn the combination, listening for that final click that will at last unlock the big mystery, but so far it’s completely fucking eluded me.
But what if Moira wasn’t referring to me using my magic? What if she means for me to find a way to control someone else’s?
My brain starts firing out ideas, holding onto the possibles and discarding the bad ones. Suddenly, I remember something odd about the way the clues looked and want to examine them again. I set Taryn gently back onto the settee and rummage through the front pocket of my pack for the printed pages of the clues we scanned, including the one that appeared on Taryn’s palm.
“What are you doing?” she asks, noticing my frenzied movements.
I unfold the pages and smooth them down on the cushion next to her. “Remember how we noted that the ink she used had mostly faded, leaving only certain parts looking fresher than the rest?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“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.”
