Roar (Stormheart #1)(87)
“I knew it,” she said. “There is something wrong with me. That’s not normal.”
“Roar.” Locke’s voice was soft, and she could still feel the heat of his big hand at her waist when he looked down at her. “There is nothing wrong with you.” But he offered no elaboration because there was none to give.
Locke cleared his throat, and she could have sworn that before he removed his hands, his thumb grazed over the dip in her waist. But then he stepped back. “Ransom is waiting for me.”
She nodded, her throat dry as she tried to swallow.
“Jinx is waiting for you back inside.”
She nodded again, but still he didn’t leave. Even though they no longer touched, she had the feeling that they were both holding on. And that after this moment, nothing would quite be the same.
He cleared his throat once more and in a low, rumbling whisper said, “I’ll see you around. If … if you need me at all, just ask a local where to find the blacksmith.”
He walked away, not in the direction of the inn but toward the road they had come in on the day before. When he was fifteen paces away, he stopped and turned. She blushed to be found still watching him, and he called, “Maybe think about a token you could offer tomorrow instead.” His eyes flicked up to the calm sky before he turned and left for good.
*
“You two seem … off,” Jinx said when Roar approached the front of the inn.
“How so?”
“You haven’t argued all morning.”
Roar released a slow, relieved breath. “We don’t argue all the time.”
Jinx raised her eyebrows. “Yes. You do.”
Roar ignored that. “So you’re my new trainer.”
“I am.”
“What do we do first?”
A wide grin spread over Jinx’s mouth. “If you’re going to train like a hunter, it’s time you looked like one.”
Half a bell later, Jinx had filled Roar’s arms with things she said were absolutely necessary, piling on more as they went through the row of stores near the center of the village. When they left around noon, Roar’s coin purse was considerably lighter, and Jinx’s infectious enthusiasm had begun to take over. Roar wore knit trousers that fit snuggly, but stretched and gave with her movement, along with a new pair of boots. And rather than the billowing shirts she had been wearing before, Jinx insisted she buy a sleeveless top that fit as well as her pants. Over that, she now had a leather harness to match the ones worn by the rest of the hunters. Hers even had detachable shoulder guards that were thick and sturdy but with a somewhat feminine design burned into the leather. She’d also bought a cropped jacket that would keep her arms warm, but left all the various holsters and loops around her middle uncovered so that she could easily get to supplies in an emergency. On a whim, to guard her forearms, they’d added vambraces that each had three small loops where she could store vials of magic.
Of course, at the moment, all of the loops and hooks on her harness and vambraces were empty. But Jinx promised to take care of that soon. For the first time since the twister, Roar did not feel like this life was hopeless. She felt almost like she belonged.
They broke for lunch at the inn. Then in no time at all, she and Jinx had saddled up their horses and were heading out of the town into the dusty red landscape.
“We don’t want to upset the Sacredites,” Jinx had told her. “If they think we’re bringing storms near the town, even magicborn ones, I doubt they’ll be so keen to grant us shelter.”
They rode for over an hour, dust rising in their wake. In the distance large rock formations could be seen, the same red hue as the sand. But when Jinx pulled her horse up to a stop, it was in a flat area with mostly dry, dusty earth, a few swaths of red sand, and one lone tree—its branches bare and the bark bleached nearly white by the sun. They tied their horses to the tree, and Jinx told Roar to wait while she walked over the land. She stopped here and there, placing her hand upon the earth as if listening to it in some way. When she was about a hundred paces away, she stopped and knelt. This time when she pressed her hand into the dirt, she did more than listen. The ground rose under her command, creating a long line of earth that became a knee-high barrier or marker.
She dusted the sand from her hands and jogged back to Roar, grinning.
“Before we get to the fun stuff,” she said, “there’s a few more things to take care of. You have your crystal and your firestorm powder?” Roar nodded. “Good. A certain someone was very insistent that we take all precautions. And you have plenty of leaves of Rezna’s rest in case a storm comes while we’re out here?”
Roar looked down at the vine coiled around her wrist and the bitter leaves that grew there. She was so tired of having to use them. Each time, they left a foul taste in her mouth and the weight of hopelessness on her chest.
“I know this is a lot,” Jinx said, “but it’s temporary. Just until we learn what we’re dealing with here.”
Roar dragged her bottom lip through her teeth and asked, “What if it’s not? What if I’m never able to do what you do?”
“Very few people can do what I do. I’m special that way. You don’t think my magic was awful in the beginning?” Jinx touched the side of her head where her hair was cut short. “I keep my hair like this as a reminder to myself that I am in control, because for a long time I wasn’t. When I was six, a little boy in my town cut my hair to be cruel. Right there in front of everyone, it grew back. In fact, it kept growing, fast and out of control. Then that boy and a few other children started throwing rocks at me. And even though it hurt, I couldn’t get my magic to stop them. I could not get it to do anything useful. It only made my hair grow down to my ankles. For weeks afterward, my mother had to cut my hair ten times a day. I think it was because deep down I was scared to leave my house and face the other children. And as long as my hair kept growing, I did not have to.”