The question hits me full in the chest. He doesn’t even need me to answer.
“You can’t be afraid of your power, Auren. I know you’ve had to try and hide away and suppress it your whole life, but—”
“I barely had any control before, and now I have to worry about going fae beast? I don’t even have the reprieve of nighttime?” I let out a scoffing sigh. “I have to be afraid of it, Rip. Because when I lose control like I did at Ranhold and like I did at—”
I snap my mouth shut, eyes gone wide.
Slade’s head cocks. “Like you did where?”
No.
I don’t want to think about that.
I never let myself think about that.
“Did you lose control before, Auren?” he asks quietly.
My jaw grinds together. Unrestrained heat hits the back of my eyes.
“I don’t want to talk about that,” I say, jumping to my feet. “That has nothing to do with this.”
He’s on me before I can even go three steps. His hand gripping my arm, turning me back around. And I hate the frown of concern on his face, because it just makes me feel worse.
“My magic is just broken. That’s all,” I say obstinately.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins, my limbs tingling, breath quickening like my instinct to flee is urging me on. But Slade doesn’t remove his hold on my arm. I’m stuck in this spot, unable to run away from this conversation.
“No. Your magic isn’t broken, Auren. You have more ability with it than ever, and you’re just blocking it.”
I feel my shoulders go tense.
“Something happened to you, didn’t it?” he asks softly. “You’ve lost control of your magic before and something bad happened. So Ranhold, all of this, it’s bringing up something else from your past.”
My chest rises and falls so fast, and yet it feels like I’m not getting in any air at all.
“Breathe, baby,” Slade says softly, now using both hands to rub up and down my arms in soothing strokes. “Tell me what happened.”
My head shakes, cheek torn by a line of moisture. “No.”
It’s not a stubborn answer. It’s a plea for him to drop this. Sympathy crosses his expression, but he doesn’t give in. The bastard never gives in. “Tell me.”
I’m scrambling, still hearing those screams, still seeing me lose control. Then and now, here and there.
Look at what you did.
I squeeze my eyes shut. But that single word, the one I’ve tried to bury so far down, it just falls out. Like a piece of cracked ceiling that finally caves, landing out in the open with an existential crack.
“Carnith.”
The word lands with an echoing slap. Unbidden, tearing free without my consent. I wish I could shove it back up in the hidden recesses, take away the sound that’s echoing between us. I shouldn’t have let it drop. I should’ve taken what happened at Ranhold and crammed them both away.
“What happened in Carnith, Auren?”
I go still. Like singing strings of a harp suddenly pinched between fingers, choking off their sound.
“I don’t want to talk about Carnith.”
“I think we should,” he says. “I think what happened in Ranhold has brought up whatever trauma you experienced in Carnith, and I think both of those things are what’s repressing your magic now.”
“My magic just can’t be trusted.”
“This was a new side to your power you hadn’t used before. It takes practice. You’ll master it.”
“Or I’ll kill everyone. Just like I almost did at Ranhold. Just like I did in…”
“Carnith,” Slade finishes for me.
My heart is beating so hard that I’m surprised it’s not bruising my veins.
“Tell me,” he urges quietly, his eyes soft, accepting. Like no matter what I tell him, he couldn’t possibly judge me for it.
He should judge me for it.
“I’ve never talked about it,” I admit on a croaked whisper.
His thumbs brush over my cheeks. “I want your past, remember? Your memories, your thoughts. Tell me, Auren. I want to help.”
How can I deny him? He’s here. He’s not walking away, no matter how hard I’ve pushed. No matter how little I deserve him. From the very beginning, he’s always seen every part of me.
I think it’s time I showed him one part that he hasn’t.
CHAPTER 30
AUREN
I was lucky.
That’s all I kept thinking, over and over again. I got away from Derfort Harbor. From Zakir. From Barden East. From being the painted girl, the harbor’s most expensive saddle.