Rebel Born (Secondborn #3)(51)

Fear ties my stomach in knots. “I’m not like Crow. I don’t know how I did that. I think it was some sort of survival instinct.”

“But it was you, right? You made that happen.”

“It was me, but I was afraid,” I reply with a reluctant sigh.

“And the Burton airships that crashed?”

“Also me.” I hug Rogue closer for comfort. The puppy licks my hand.

“Can you move something for me now?”

“Why?” I feel defensive. I don’t want him to think I’m a monster.

“Just to see if you can.”

“I don’t know.”

“Try.”

“What do you want me to move?”

“How about you pass Rogue to me?”

“But what if I hurt him?” I snuggle my dog closer to my chest.

“You won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know you.”

Attempting to calm my racing heart, I exhale and loosen my grip on Rogue. The last thing I want to do is demonstrate to Reykin just how big a freak I am. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this in the middle of the ocean.”

“Please?”

“If something goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”

“Okay.”

I concentrate on the small mass of fur in my lap. My eyes adjust to the energy that comprises everything. The world outside the window is dark and murky, but everything inside this room is golden light and airy and within my “reach.” I don’t have to move my hands—I simply will the lifting of the puppy. Rogue levitates off me, about a tail’s length or so.

“How are you doing that?” Reykin whispers.

“You know when you prepare to pick up something heavy, you sort of grasp it and clench your abdomen in preparation?”

“Yes?”

“It’s a little like that at first, but then, when I breathe out”—I exhale—“it’s lightness that lifts Rogue, not heaviness. Do you know what I mean?”

“No,” he replies. “I have no clue what you mean.” But he seems impressed.

“Oh, I wish you could feel this. It’s a little ticklish.” Rogue’s tail wags furiously as he floats above my lap. He barks at me with his little puppy voice, like we’re playing a game he doesn’t really understand.

“Can you pass him to me?” Reykin asks.

“Hold out your hands so you can catch him if he starts to fall.”

Rogue’s tail wags in earnest, as if he’s filled with airy happiness. I float the small creature to Reykin’s waiting arms. The moment Reykin has him, I let go of the lightness it took to move him. In Reykin’s hands, Rogue squirms, trying to get away from him and back to me. Reykin stares at me wide eyed, holding Rogue close to his chest.

“Say something,” I order with a frown, feeling like the freak I am.

“What else can you do?”

I don’t know how to tell him that I might be immortal, so I don’t. Instead I ask, “Can I have my puppy back?” He hands me Rogue, who happily licks my face again. I cover him with kisses of my own.

“When did this ability come about? Did you develop it over time, or . . . ?”

“It just happened today.”

“We found you yesterday. What was different about yesterday?” Reykin asks. He lets nothing go at face value. He’s inquisitive and, quite frankly, extremely nosy.

“You found me yesterday? How long did I sleep?”

“Longer than normal. I was worried, so I brought Rogue with me to check on you. Why are you avoiding the question?”

“What question?”

“What was different about yesterday?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I was scared.”

Reykin frowns. “You’ve probably been in a state of constant fear whenever you’re conscious. Was that it, do you think? Do you think fear triggered something in your physiology and made you develop a defensive trait?” He looks skeptical.

“Maybe,” I hedge.

“You don’t think that’s it. What’s your real theory?”

“I don’t have a good one.”

“C’mon.” His eyes narrow as he chides me. “Yes, you do. I can see it in your eyes.”

I set Rogue aside and rise from the bunk. “I should get dressed. Are these clothes for me?” I ask, even though I know that the package must be mine because it wasn’t there before. I tighten the belt of my robe, pick up the package, and clutch it to my chest. Rogue sits at my feet, looking up at me like he wants me to hold him again.

“Here.” Reykin scoops up Rogue. He presses a button, and a partition unfolds from the wall and arches around the small vanity area, separating it from the rest of the room. “You can change behind this privacy screen.”

I forget he’s not a secondborn Sword trained not to need privacy. “Thank you,” I reply, and duck behind the divider. I close my eyes and exhale for a moment, then unwrap the parcel. It contains a Gates of Dawn military-issued training uniform. The top is midnight blue and made for a female, with support built in. The matching athletic bottoms look like they’ll fit me just right. I set the boots aside, tug my robe off, and drape it over the top of the partition.