Lakesedge (World at the Lake's Edge #1)(81)

Arien and Clover pace back and forth with their eyes on the ground as they measure out the space for the sigil. We’ve agreed to perform the ritual as we did before, the same sigil on the ground, the same sigils on our wrists. But it will be me, alone, who touches the earth and casts magic. I curl my hands closed and run my fingers against the marks on my palms. Already I can feel the power awakening beneath my skin, like banked embers ready to flare alight.

“Here we are.” I steady my voice. “I guess it’s time.”

Florence squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. “Good luck. Try not to do anything completely reckless.”

I laugh. “I’ll do my best.”

She sits beneath the trees with her basket filled with blankets and bandages and a jar of Clover’s bitter tea, waiting. I look at Rowan, who stands beside me. I want to say something to him before I go, but nothing fits. I take his hand, lean my head on his shoulder.

He twists his fingers against mine restlessly. “This is a terrible idea, you know. Of all the dangers you’ve gotten yourself into, this is by far the worst.”

I cup my hands around his face and draw him down to me. I kiss him; his protests murmur to silence against my mouth.

“I can do this,” I tell him. I try to smile, but I can’t quite manage. “I will do this.”

“What if your magic hurts you the way it did last time?” He rakes a hand through his hair. “What if it hurts you worse?”

I want to reassure him that all will be well, but I can’t. My being hurt is the least of my fears. I’ll only have this power for tonight; there won’t be another chance to attempt this again. And if I fail, then Rowan will have to quiet it.

Even now, he’s still pale and worn, his eyes bruised beneath with tiredness. Poison has clotted in dark stains under the skin of his throat and wrists. There’s a halting unsteadiness to the way he moves, as though he’s being very careful to keep himself here, held back and in control.

Though neither of us has said it aloud, we both know how much is at stake. Tonight will be the last time he can let the Corruption devour him. If he lets the darkness in, he will be lost. He will become that creature I fought in the garden. And if that happens, the only way to stop him will be with death.

I pull him closer and kiss him again. I don’t want to think anymore, just be. I close my eyes and push away thoughts of him changed, or ruined, or gone. I think of how he ran his fingers over my bare skin. How my breath came out in gasps. How the tether between us hummed and burned when we were together in his bed.

“You’ll be with me.” I touch my fingers to my wrist. The sigil throbs. He makes a soft noise, half sigh.

I slide my fingers beneath the loose edge of his sleeve and up along his arm, until the sigil is underneath my hand. It beats gently against my palm like a pulse. “You can feel it, can’t you?”

Rowan wraps his hand over mine, against the spell. “Yes. I feel it.”

I feel the magic shimmer through me. I can taste it: sweet and spiced, like almas cake and honey tea. I can feel him, the contradictions of his emotions. He’s angry and frightened, angry because he’s frightened. I know he wants the Corruption mended and he wants to keep me close, but he’s afraid he can’t have both.

It’s strange, to feel his moods this way, like reading a page over his shoulder. Colors shift behind my closed lids, all laid one over another. First they’re gray and grim and dark. Then I open my eyes and look at him, and everything softens to shades of peach and gold.

“We’re bound together.” I brush my fingers over the inked lines. “You’ll be with me, no matter what.”

“I’ll be with you.” Rowan kisses the corner of my mouth, the curve of my cheek. “Be safe, my love.”

I push his hair back from his face and trace my fingertips around the delicate outsides of his ears. The silver rings pierced through his earlobes are warm under my touch. “You be safe, too.”

We step apart slowly; I don’t want to let him go. He sits down beneath the trees beside Florence, and when she puts her arm around his shoulders, he doesn’t push her away. I give them one last look, then turn and walk down across the shore, my boots sinking into the mud.

When I reach the water, a cold wind blows across the surface. It’s like frost against my skin. Icy sweat beads at my temples and drips down my neck.

I step over the outer lines of the sigil and stand very still as Arien and Clover circle around me. They mark shape after shape, until I am at the heart of the inscription they’ve drawn on the earth. Once they are finished, Arien smiles at me, uncertain and afraid. “Are you ready?”

I look out over the water. The lake ripples gently, and a wave breaks against the shore with a sound like a sigh. “I’m ready.”

Arien grabs me swiftly, pulls me into a tight hug. I press my face against his shoulder, breathe in the paper-and-ink scent of him. He takes a deep breath, then bends down and cuts a line in the wet ground with his fingers. He draws his mud-caked hand across his chest, making the sign of the Lady.

Clover repeats the gesture. She wipes her muddied hand against her skirts and smiles at me. “Good luck, Violeta.” She arches a brow and leans close to whisper. “By the way, you have an enormous kiss mark on your throat, did you know?”

I put my hand to my neck, my face full of heat, as she snorts back a laugh. I grin and shove her away, shaking my head. I inhale, then reach down to press my fingers into the earth. Slowly, I draw my hand across my chest, leaving behind a streak of black over my heart.