FARON WAS USED TO BEING A POOR STUDENT, BUT TODAY IT WAS NOT her fault. Today, she had Gael Soto as her teacher.
She didn’t even need to see his eyes to know that the boy who came for her was Gael. For one thing, his smile was not a drawn weapon whetted with Lightbringer’s self-satisfied cruelty. It was still smug, but there was a quiet intimacy to that smile. The smile of a boy who knew her, and wanted to know her, not an ancient creature reluctantly babysitting her as part of his plans. Instead of wearing his midnight military dress, he wore riding leathers as she did. He leaned rakishly against her doorjamb, gazing down at her with sparkling hazel eyes.
“I have far better things to do than teach rudimentary magic tricks to a weakling,” Lightbringer explained before she could ask. “But I will be taking you to the training ground. And rest assured that I will be listening.”
Faron found it hard to believe that he would trust her and Gael Soto alone together, even with his surveillance. Several times now, Gael had briefly escaped the tight leash of Lightbringer’s control, as if the parts of him that had been swallowed by the dragon were forcing their way back up. Maybe Lightbringer was lending Gael the reins in an attempt to bring him back to heel, or maybe he was lobbing Gael as a distraction so that she didn’t interfere in what he really planned to do with the eggs and Jesper’s blood.
Either way, Faron found it impossible to concentrate on anything but how to work this to her advantage.
Lightbringer left them at the Snowmelt, a river that sliced from the Silver Sea through the bottom of the Emerald Highlands and up a mountain range in the northwest that touched Serpentia Bay. It was the kind of day that made it hard to remember they were at war: a cloudless blue sky with a sun so bright, it reflected blinding gold on the surface of the Silver Sea. When the dragon tore back toward Hearthstone, Faron briefly considered taking Gael prisoner and trying to make it through the war zone of the Emerald Highlands to Beacon. If she turned herself and him in, perhaps Barret Soto could help her save Reeve.
Then she remembered that she had given her piece of Rosetree Manor to Jesper. Lightbringer would invade their minds and find them before the day was out. Her fists clenched at her sides.
“Shall we begin?” said Gael from behind her. “He expects a status report when he returns.”
“I don’t care what he expects, and you shouldn’t, either.” Faron turned to face him, hiding another wince at seeing Reeve’s face without any of Reeve’s warm intelligence. “I know you’ve been fighting him. I know you’ve been trying to protect me. Why are you doing what he says now? You’re free.”
His smile faded. “You’re always in control of your own body. Do you feel free from him right now?”
“Is that his game? To make me think I have an ally in you, that we’re both victims of his plans, so you can betray me?” Faron snorted. “I already know how this story ends, Gael. You’re a liar and a coward.”
“I’m a coward?” He advanced on her, but Faron didn’t give an inch. She lifted her jaw and tipped back her head to keep their gazes locked. There was a whisper of space between them. And she was there, with him, but she was also in a library in Renard Hall, needling her way beneath Reeve Warwick’s skin the way he lived under hers. It had been a heady delight, to make Reeve lose control. Gael’s anger was different. It was infuriating. “You’re the one who always smells like fear, Faron. Fear you made the wrong choice. Fear you’ll never find Lightbringer’s weakness. Fear you’ll never be forgiven. Fear you’re too angry, too bitter, too selfish, too much—”
Faron shoved him. He didn’t move, but it made her feel a little less like tearing his head from his body. Only one boy had ever known her this well. Only one boy was allowed to know her this well. And that boy was in a grave built of his own body because she’d made the mistake of trusting this bastard. This bastard who was now lecturing her about her own feelings.
“At least I’m doing something about it!” she pointed out, her hands still on his chest. His heartbeat raced beneath her fingers, despite his stubbornly set jaw and blazing eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to keep you alive.”
“I can keep myself alive. I need you to do more. To be better.”
“You need to be better,” Gael snapped. His hands gripped her wrists like shackles. He leaned closer. “You forget that I was an actual soldier. I know a thing or two about strategy. Blundering around—making enemies like you have been?—is bad strategy.”
“Better than letting a dragon enslave me, mind and soul.” She yanked herself free, but she didn’t back away. “What are his weaknesses? What is his ultimate plan? What’s your so-called strategy?”
Faron could feel his frustration as if it were her own. He was breathing through gritted teeth, harsh exhales that spoke of far more effort than a simple conversation should take. He turned away from her abruptly, and a wall dropped between the two of them. Her anger receded now that it was no longer fanned by his flames. She blinked, feeling as though she’d missed a step in their dance.
“You need,” Gael finally said, “to get stronger before Lightbringer returns to pick us up, or we’ll both suffer for it. Let’s start with putting a permanent wall around your thoughts. You think so loudly, it feels like you’re still yelling at me.”
Any further attempts at conversations or arguments were shut down as he shifted into teaching mode. Gael observed her, sitting on one of the smooth boulders that lined the riverbank, with one leg drawn up to his chest. As it turned out, Faron was very good at guarding her own mind—likely from lying all the time. That part of the lesson was so easy that it lulled her into a false sense of security.
For the rest of the morning, Gael made her summon fire until she stopped singeing her eyebrows. Large flames the size of a bonfire floating before her chest. Small flames the size of a candlewick bouncing around her like fireflies. Ropelike flames that wound up and down her arms. Again and again, until the sun was high in the sky and she only sometimes lost control.
“Very good,” said Gael. His hand covered her own, smothering her flames. “This certainly brings back memories.”
His palm against her palm, his gaze steady on hers… He was right about it bringing back memories. She remembered the sun drawing sweat from her overheated skin and the smell of salt and brine. She remembered Renard Hall, its marble walls and stone paths, Seaview and the glittering ocean beyond the cliffs, lies she swallowed from Gael and feelings she developed for Reeve. She remembered the frustration and determination. Her naivete.
Back then, she’d been learning to command living souls, a forgotten extension of the magic she’d been born with. Now she was learning a magic foreign and strange, gifted to her by the dragon holding her hostage.
How quickly things changed.
“Come,” Gael said, releasing her to walk toward the Snowmelt. Faron shook out her hand as if that would erase his touch, but she still felt it. The river tripped along sluggishly, indifferent to their presence. Though it was the middle of the day, she could hear frogs croaking. Bugs zipped from reed to reed, almost too fast for her to catch. The weather had grown colder, and it felt colder still closer to the water. Somehow, this didn’t stop Gael from standing close to the bank and facing her with an expectant look on his face. “Now try aiming for me.”
“What?” Faron gaped. “Why would I—?”
“You’re unlikely to actually hit me,” said Gael.
That made her roll her eyes. “You’re in Reeve’s body. I don’t want to hurt him.”
“But you want to hurt me, don’t you?” Gael’s tone lowered into something dangerous. “I tricked you into releasing Lightbringer. I wrecked your home. I’m wearing your boyfriend like a suit. I know it makes you angry.”
“Not that angry,” Faron insisted, even though that was a lie. She didn’t hate Gael, but she did hate Lightbringer. She hated this entire situation and every choice she had made to lead her here. She hated the doubts, the endless doubts, about whether she could save Gael Soto or if he was just the sweetest lie that Iya had ever told. She hated that she had doomed Reeve to his half existence, that she hadn’t been able to stop the plan his parents had laid out for him long before she’d ever grown to care for him.
But she didn’t hate Gael. They were too much alike. He had been the first person to truly understand the burden she carried as the Empyrean, the pressure she was under and the temptations she faced. In turn, she understood how bleak his future felt, how exhausted he was from fighting Lightbringer for centuries in the Empty. She had felt the weight of Lightbringer’s soul and maliciousness, and she knew how much it had cost Gael to keep his own soul from being shredded beneath a creature so ancient and evil.
No, she didn’t hate Gael. She wanted to save him, not hurt him.
“Surely there’s another way,” Faron tried. “I can run through the drills again—”
“There are plenty of other ways,” Gael agreed. “But this one will make you feel better. I know it will.” His tone and expression were solemn. Almost reverent. It made her heart trip in her chest. “I’m not afraid of you, Faron. I’m not afraid of what you could do or who you could be. Your power, the fierce, unbridled, wild force of you… It’s always been radiant to me.”
“I don’t know—”
“Reach for that anger, and wield it. Make it bow to you. Make me bow to you.” Trouble danced in those earthy hazel eyes. A smirk tugged at his lips. He slid into a defensive position, all lithe muscle and coiled strength. “If, of course, you even can.”
It was a challenge. One he knew she’d want to rise to.
Faron’s hands ignited with red-orange flames.
And then she attacked.
Gael dodged every blast with a warrior’s grace. She couldn’t so much as scorch his hair, and her sole attempt at doing so resulted in him bending so far backward that she was shocked Reeve’s spine didn’t snap. He seemed to know what she was going to do before she did it, blocking her burning fist, twisting under her overhead punch, and coming up behind her with a soft laugh. She whirled around, flames-first, and he leaped out of the way, the fire illuminating the planes of his face until he looked like the god he claimed to be.
Faron snarled.
Gael’s smirk widened. “There you are.”
Her attacks became wilder, more vicious. Every time he evaded her, she moved faster, faster, faster, until she realized that her surroundings were a blur and he was the only real thing she could see. He summoned fire around his own hands, flaring it into a makeshift shield that swallowed her every blast, forcing Faron to dart in close. Block and parry. Block and parry.
He caught her wrist and twisted her flaming hand away from his face. She snuffed the fire out before her clothes could catch. He repeated the move with her other wrist, trapping her between the risk of setting herself ablaze just to take him down with her or accepting defeat.
Faron was breathing hard as she grumbled, “I yield.”
“Soon, you won’t have to,” Gael said, voice warm with affection. His breathing was even. “What you lack in technical skill you more than make up for in raw power. You did well, Faron.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not. I’m in awe of you.”
Faron pulled away. Her cheeks were warm, she noted with some frustration. Even when she tried to be impervious to Gael’s charm, she found herself falling for it like some inexperienced babe. His charm was a knife he had cut her with once before. She didn’t want to let him do it again.
“Did I hurt Reeve?” she asked, giving his body a once-over. “Don’t hide the fact that his body needs healing just to lord it over me.”
“He’s fine,” said Gael. “Do you want to try again?”
“I think I need water and a break.”
“Take your time. I think I’ve just figured out the best way to teach you quickly, and I’ll need a few days to get it all together.”
Faron squinted at him. “Am I going to like this?”
“Oh,” Gael said without hesitation, mischief dancing in his eyes again, “you’re going to love it.”