Roar (Stormheart #1)(85)
“And what does your scary witch expression look like?”
Jinx shook her head. “No can do. It loses its potency if I use it too liberally. Special occasions only.”
Roar laughed, feeling a little better than when she woke. Quickly, Roar washed her face at the water basin in the corner and used paste to clean her teeth.
“You know,” Jinx said behind her, “I love the color of your hair. That dark is so striking against your pale skin.”
Roar nervously smoothed her strands, worried somehow that Jinx would be able to tell it was not her natural color. Nova had given her an extra jar of the dye so that she could touch it up when it faded, but what would she do when that ran out? “Thanks,” she said simply. “I like your…” In lieu of the words, Roar gestured toward the side of Jinx’s head, where her hair had been shorn short, cut with a jagged pattern. “It really makes you stand out.”
Jinx snorted. “That’s me. Always standing out.”
“No, I mean it. I’ve liked it from the first night we met. It’s clear that you know who you are and you own it completely.”
“You’re not too bad either.” Jinx smiled. “You ready?”
“Sure.” She had to see Locke sooner or later, might as well do it now.
Jinx bounded for the door, and Roar followed. Roar heard the other hunters in the taproom before she saw them—Ransom’s booming laugh followed by Bait’s “Come on! It was funny.”
There were four long tables with bench seats. The hunters were the only ones in the room. Roar was fairly certain they were the only guests in the inn at all, likely the only guests this town had had in a long while. Locke scowled at a grinning Jinx. Somehow, Roar had the feeling that Locke hadn’t just suggested they let Roar sleep. He had probably demanded it, and Jinx clearly didn’t care to take his orders.
The witch sat down on the left side of the bench across from Ransom and patted the seat beside her for Roar to take, which would put her directly across from Locke. She took a deep breath and slipped into her seat. “What did we miss?”
She and Jinx both began loading up their empty plates from the breakfast laid out on the table. Glazed pastries and jams and eggs and even meat. After weeks on the road eating only things that could be cooked over a fire, Roar’s stomach rumbled with eagerness.
“We were just about to discuss our plans for the next few days,” Duke said, and then gestured for Locke to take over.
He glanced briefly at Roar, and then got right down to business. “I spoke with the blacksmith last night after we arrived and arranged a deal for the use of his forge and equipment. It could take a few days to over a week to fix the Rock. I’ll know more after I get a good look at the damage today.” Roar didn’t relish the idea of spending an entire week in this town. She was already dreading the blood she would have to offer again this morning. Locke continued: “Since Ransom and I will be spending most of our time working on the Rock, Jinx will be taking over Roar’s training.”
Roar froze with a bite of food halfway to her mouth. “What?”
Locke did not meet her eyes as he explained, “With her earth magic, she can challenge you in ways that I can’t. And now that we know you don’t react negatively to magicborn storms, she can use those too.”
The food in her mouth tasted like ash as she swallowed it down.
“And”—Locke shot Roar a pained, apologetic look, and she suddenly wished she were back in bed—“you all might have heard a thunderstorm last night. Before I dismantled it, the storm had a similar effect on Roar as the twister.”
“She attacked you again?” Sly sat diagonally across from Roar, and her glare was furious. “And you said nothing?”
Roar’s stomach sank and an uncomfortably hot flush spread up her neck.
“She did not attack me. And I’m saying something now,” Locke answered. “As with the twister, Roar was overcome by an emotion that was not her own.” He didn’t elaborate, and Roar was grateful. She felt clammy and queasy just thinking about revealing what happened last night. “My guess is that Roar is sensitive, but not to storm magic. I think she’s sensitive to the hearts of the storms, which would explain why she was not affected by the firestorm magic or the thunderstorm I released to manage the flames.”
That couldn’t be true. Roar had held Stormhearts in her hands. She wore one even now beneath the fabric of her shirt. None of them had ever reacted to her. She began to shake her head, but Locke cut her off. He said, “I know that we all have different beliefs about storms. I’ll be the first to admit that while we’ve always acknowledged that storms have hearts, I had never really thought of them like human ones. With the capacity to feel and want and hurt. But I don’t see any other explanation. Roar was overcome with violent rage moments before and during the twister. And again … last night…” He hesitated, and Roar braced herself for him to spill everything. “Last night you grieved when that thunderstorm rose. I could tell just by watching that you felt intense emotional pain.”
Jinx cut in to say, “We could ask around town. Sacredites worship storms. If it’s possible for someone to feel an emotional connection with a storm, they might know.”
Sly cut in, “I’ve never heard of any such thing.”