A Deal with the Elf King (Married to Magic, #1)(43)

He seems startled I’d probe for his experience. “I saw…something.” Eldas turns away from me, hiding the expression that accompanied those words. I take a step forward, drawn toward him as he moves away. He speaks before I can probe further. “Come to the throne.”

The gentle heat that filled my body vanishes. The redwood throne stands before me, tall and imposing. Threatening.

It’s softened only slightly by Hook’s presence. The wolf has curled up at its foot. His chin is on his paws and he looks up at me with golden eyes. Somehow, even the animal seems to expect something from me when it comes to this throne.

“You said I wouldn’t have to,” I whisper.

“This is your power,” Eldas says delicately. “You must commit to learning it. Especially if you want any hope of breaking the queen’s tie to the throne.”

“But…”

It takes only two of his wide strides for him to be before me again. Eldas slowly moves for my hand and I allow him to take it in his. Somehow, this touch is sturdy and reassuring.

“You can do this. You must.”

I shiver and force my body to move. It’s just a throne. A throne that nearly killed me the last time. Nothing to be worried about. Right. Maybe if I tell myself that enough I’ll believe it.

Eldas guides my palm to the throne, holding it just above the corner of the armrest.

“Just this, for now. Greet the throne and its might without giving yourself to it.”

I am frozen in fear.

“Are you ready?” he asks softly.

“Just one more minute.” My voice quivers slightly. He gives me the time and then some, standing patiently, holding my hand in his. When my composure is gathered, I nod and he presses my hand against the wood.

There’s a spark sizzling under my skin. Popping crackles my ears. But I stay grounded in my body. This time, I’m not pulled deep into the magical clutches of the redwood throne. I blink and breathe slowly. Hook lets out a low whine.

Eldas has unhanded me. I continue pressing my palm to the throne of my own accord. My connection with it is stable and calm this time. I can once more sense those deep roots fanning beneath me in the foundation of worlds.

“What do you feel?” he whispers. His hands are behind his back again and yet the ghost of them is still on my body.

“I feel it…stretching, reaching. I feel the earth, mighty and solid, coiled in the roots’ grasp. I feel…” Rock. A hard layer of rock that the roots can’t penetrate. Instead, they cluster just before it, around something, like a cage. I can’t tell what that “something” is. It’s a black spot in my awareness—a place where my limited senses go to die. I don’t remember it from the first time…but that whole experience is just a jumble of pain in my mind now.

“When you’re ready, close your eyes.”

I take a deep breath and do as he instructs yet again.

“Feel the Fade you crossed, just south of the city; we’re right at the edge of Quinnar. Traverse the plains and hills to the eastern mountains. Feel their white-capped and snowy ridges. Enter the deep forests of the fae. Find, at the water’s horizon, far, far to the north, where the Veil separates our world from the Beyond. See, but never touch.”

As he speaks, I go on a journey behind my eyelids. I’m jerked around from place to place. It’s as if I race between one location and the next to keep up with his words. As my thoughts change, so too does my awareness.

I shiver as the bitter cold of the mountains brushes against me. I hear the chirping of the birds awakening to spring in the forests. I smell the salt air as I look out to a vast, dark horizon at the world’s edge.

One place, and then to the next. Each location tries to tie vine tendrils of magic to me. The earth leeches from me on instinct. And a small piece of myself is left behind at every turn.

Opening my eyes, I pull my hand away and try to catch my breath. The world spins and I sway. Eldas moves in the corner of my vision. Hook is faster.

“I’m fine.” I bury a palm in the wolf’s fur. He comes up to my thigh and leans against me for support that I hate I need. Just that little bit of magic left me drained. “I just… I need to catch my breath.”

“This is a significant improvement over last time.”

“Careful, Eldas, that sounds like approval.”

“Well, I am a king, I must be discerning with my approval.” He adjusts his coat, smoothing out invisible wrinkles. A movement I’m beginning to associate with uncertainty. I almost find it endearing.

A tired grin pulls at my lips. “Even with your wife?”

“Especially with my wife.” His eyes meet mine. “Because none have greater responsibility, or power, than her. I am the most discerning with those that are the most capable.”

“And that almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Take it as you will.” He looks to the throne as if my sly grin made him—the mighty Elf King—uncomfortable. “What did you feel?”

“The world, again. But this time with more control. I didn’t feel like vultures were picking me down to the bone.” I straighten, no longer leaning on Hook. The room has stopped spinning.

“Yet it still took magic from you,” Eldas observes. I nod. He frowns. “Tomorrow, we’ll work on shielding your magic from forces that would try and leech it away.”