much Lydia values this friendship.”
“I care nothing for this . . . commoner ,” she said. “But I would rather spend eternity
locked in this body than . . . join the gods of Lor.” She tried to
sit up, but Octavion held her in place by putting gentle pressure
to her shoulders.
“So she holds your freedom over your head.
She is a smart one.” Octavion let go and pulled the blanket back to
check her wound. He removed the poultice to find it soaked with
blood.
“Altaria, you have reopened the wound. Stop
moving about.” He growled.
The entire altercation had mingled with
Kira’s thoughts about Lydia and their friendship. Kira didn’t know
this strange girl who obviously hated her, and she certainly didn’t
know Octavion. But somewhere in their exchange, Lydia struggled to
live, despite her willingness to sacrifice her life.
Kira didn’t want this decision to be anyone’s
but hers. If she risked her life to save the only true friend she’d
ever known, then it wouldn’t be forced on her—not even at the point
of Octavion’s knife. Not that she thought it would come to that,
but then . . . she still wasn’t sure how much she could trust
him.
Trembling, Kira picked up the Crystor and
held it in her hand. The chill it brought while coiled in her palm
sent a shiver up her arm, as if its powers already seeped into her
skin. When Octavion held it, the charm simply settled into the
creases of his hand, then stopped, perfectly satisfied with being
still, its silver remaining vibrant and cool. But in Kira’s hand,
it seemed restless—as if it searched for something to cling to,
changing from silver to red, then to a shimmering light blue. She
closed her fingers around it in hopes it would relax, but instead,
it warmed, sending a spark up the length of her arm and into her
head. She cried out when the pain met the base of her skull.
“Kira, no!” Octavion yelled, his gaze locked
on the tiny strand of silver that crept out from under Kira’s
fingertips and found its place around her wrist. Both ends
unraveled into several fine silver threads that came to life,
seeking out the other until the bracelet intertwined the two ends
together and tightened, leaving barely a finger’s width between it
and her skin.
An instant later, Octavion cradled her
against his chest—more gently than she would have ever thought
possible. But it gave little comfort and no relief to the pain.
Kira felt as though ice raced through her
veins as the skin around her wrist burned cold. The tiny sparks
she’d felt before exploded like bolts of lightning, shooting up her
arm and radiating throughout her entire body. Her muscles ached and
her head felt as though her skull had been crushed.
As Kira’s body began to shake uncontrollably,
a second surge of pain rippled through her, this time radiating out
through the tips of her fingers. She pushed Octavion away, thinking
his embrace was what had caused it. She clenched her fists and drew
them into her stomach, hoping the pressure of her body would help
ease the pain. Instead, it only worsened. She gasped a ragged
breath, then fell forward onto her knees.
“Help me. I . . . can’t make it . . .
stop.”
Octavion lifted her chin with his fingers.
“Kira, I need to see your eyes.”
She tried to obey, but even the tiny bit of
light from the candles caused searing pain. “I can’t.”
He took her face in his hands. “Yes, you can.
Try taking deep breaths. Focus on the pain and will it away.”
At first, she fought him, trying to pull his
hands away from her face, but then she felt their warmth easing the
pain in her head. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
He was right. With each breath, the intensity seemed to lessen.
“Again,” he ordered.
She gripped his massive shoulders to steady
herself and tried again. This time, the warmth coming from his
hands not only took the pain, but replaced it with a strange
feeling of euphoria. It was as though she floated on a
“I care nothing for this . . . commoner ,” she said. “But I would rather spend eternity
locked in this body than . . . join the gods of Lor.” She tried to
sit up, but Octavion held her in place by putting gentle pressure
to her shoulders.
“So she holds your freedom over your head.
She is a smart one.” Octavion let go and pulled the blanket back to
check her wound. He removed the poultice to find it soaked with
blood.
“Altaria, you have reopened the wound. Stop
moving about.” He growled.
The entire altercation had mingled with
Kira’s thoughts about Lydia and their friendship. Kira didn’t know
this strange girl who obviously hated her, and she certainly didn’t
know Octavion. But somewhere in their exchange, Lydia struggled to
live, despite her willingness to sacrifice her life.
Kira didn’t want this decision to be anyone’s
but hers. If she risked her life to save the only true friend she’d
ever known, then it wouldn’t be forced on her—not even at the point
of Octavion’s knife. Not that she thought it would come to that,
but then . . . she still wasn’t sure how much she could trust
him.
Trembling, Kira picked up the Crystor and
held it in her hand. The chill it brought while coiled in her palm
sent a shiver up her arm, as if its powers already seeped into her
skin. When Octavion held it, the charm simply settled into the
creases of his hand, then stopped, perfectly satisfied with being
still, its silver remaining vibrant and cool. But in Kira’s hand,
it seemed restless—as if it searched for something to cling to,
changing from silver to red, then to a shimmering light blue. She
closed her fingers around it in hopes it would relax, but instead,
it warmed, sending a spark up the length of her arm and into her
head. She cried out when the pain met the base of her skull.
“Kira, no!” Octavion yelled, his gaze locked
on the tiny strand of silver that crept out from under Kira’s
fingertips and found its place around her wrist. Both ends
unraveled into several fine silver threads that came to life,
seeking out the other until the bracelet intertwined the two ends
together and tightened, leaving barely a finger’s width between it
and her skin.
An instant later, Octavion cradled her
against his chest—more gently than she would have ever thought
possible. But it gave little comfort and no relief to the pain.
Kira felt as though ice raced through her
veins as the skin around her wrist burned cold. The tiny sparks
she’d felt before exploded like bolts of lightning, shooting up her
arm and radiating throughout her entire body. Her muscles ached and
her head felt as though her skull had been crushed.
As Kira’s body began to shake uncontrollably,
a second surge of pain rippled through her, this time radiating out
through the tips of her fingers. She pushed Octavion away, thinking
his embrace was what had caused it. She clenched her fists and drew
them into her stomach, hoping the pressure of her body would help
ease the pain. Instead, it only worsened. She gasped a ragged
breath, then fell forward onto her knees.
“Help me. I . . . can’t make it . . .
stop.”
Octavion lifted her chin with his fingers.
“Kira, I need to see your eyes.”
She tried to obey, but even the tiny bit of
light from the candles caused searing pain. “I can’t.”
He took her face in his hands. “Yes, you can.
Try taking deep breaths. Focus on the pain and will it away.”
At first, she fought him, trying to pull his
hands away from her face, but then she felt their warmth easing the
pain in her head. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
He was right. With each breath, the intensity seemed to lessen.
“Again,” he ordered.
She gripped his massive shoulders to steady
herself and tried again. This time, the warmth coming from his
hands not only took the pain, but replaced it with a strange
feeling of euphoria. It was as though she floated on a
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