My father draws another circle, and then another, and then another. He has me doing all sorts of new things I’ve never tried before, like making half the rot go in one section, the other half going somewhere else, spreading in opposite directions. It leaves the once lush grass dried and dead, with cracks of earth showing through. Despite the cool air, I start dripping sweat, my body shaking from the physical and mental exertion.
“You’re getting sloppy,” he says with a sigh. “Control, Slade. Are you some common fae to lose it so easily? Or are you going to be worthy of the blood in your rotted veins?”
“We’ve been going at this for hours,” I reply, though I’m careful to keep my tone neutral. The sun is going down, and something about being out here without it makes everything seem harder. “I’m tired.”
My father sneers at that word. Even though he’s hundreds of years old, even older than my mother, the only lines he has in his face are from the frowns dug between his brows and bracketed around his downturned mouth.
“You’re tired,” he mocks, practically spitting.
My stomach drops, because I know what’s coming next. In the next blink, he’s snapping a finger in front of me, and the ground shakes, splits, breaks.
I stumble, almost crashing down when the shaking relents. The ground is breaking in perfect circles, right where he drew my lines. Gaps in the earth surround me, making it seem like they could break all the way through to the world’s core, crumbling beneath my feet.
But he’s not done with his display.
With another snap of his finger, he makes the full tree just behind us break in half, the huge trunk snapping like a twig and falling over with a crash.
The ground barely stops shaking when he lifts his hand again.
Snap.
The sound is so loud, but I don’t register that it’s not only coming from him, it’s coming from me. Just like that, he’s snapped the bone in my finger exactly like he did to that tree.
A scream flings out of me, and my knees hit the ground in a plume of dust as I cradle my hand now searing with pain. My father peers down at me without expression while I try not to throw up.
All the spikes have torn from my body, ripping through my shirt, though at least they don’t make me bleed anymore. I look up at him from the ground, shaking in the shock of pain, but I say nothing. Nothing. Because I will not ask. I will not beg.
He lets me stay in that agonizing limbo for several long seconds. Then, he snaps his finger again, making me flinch. But as quick as the noise, the break in my bone is gone. So is the break in the tree. The ones on the ground.
My chest heaves as I look up at him, and he tilts his head, eyes flicking over my face with an indecipherable expression. His eyes drop down and then he grips my chin, his fingers even colder than the power running through my veins. He turns my head to the side roughly. Scrapes the side of my cheek. “Interesting,” he mutters before letting me go. He looks at me with great satisfaction. I don’t like it one bit.
“What?” I ask, bringing my own hand up to scratch the spot that feels oddly itchy. I don’t do it with my tender finger, though. The bone may not be broken any longer, but my nerves are still screaming, letting out ripples of confused pain.
Instead of answering me, he says, “Control. My father taught me, and I will teach you, and you will not fail.”
I swallow hard, but all the rot in my veins has petered out, all the lines in the ground shriveled to nothing.
“Now pull those spikes back in, or I’ll pin them to the estate wall and let you hang there till you learn to control yourself.”
I grit my teeth.
Fist my sore hand.
Feel a line of blood drip from my eyebrow.
I stare at The Breaker, and I hate.
One day, I think to myself. One day, I will break you instead.
But until then, I will learn control.
CHAPTER 26
AUREN
I’m being nudged.
Nudged in the arm while I’m trying to sleep. I don’t want to be nudged while I’m trying to sleep. I say exactly that, but it comes out as a mashed-up grumble while my face is still stuffed against the pillow.
I hear a chuckle in reply, which makes my eyes squint open. Slade is standing beside the bed, his nudging hand nowhere to be found. Smart male.
“Is it night already?” I ask groggily as I stretch my legs out and start to sit up.
“No, it’s about midday.”
My eyes flick over to him just as I set my feet on the ground. “Oh good, I still have time then.” I start to lower myself back down again.