Inkmistress (Of Fire and Stars 0.5)(74)

I stood my ground and met his eyes. They were warm and liquid dark, looking for answers I didn’t have. I took a deep breath and then another, feeling the tension between us crackle like sparks from a fire. Part of me wanted to throw him out of my room immediately so I could think clearly again. Another part longed to close the distance between us.

“I don’t want this,” I said, deflating.

“Don’t want what?” His expression grew colder, more guarded.

“To be at odds with you,” I whispered.

Some of the tension ebbed out of his body, and an emotion flickered over his features that I couldn’t quite put a name to.

“I missed you last night. I could hardly sleep,” I admitted. A tingle of nervousness raced through me.

I saw a shock travel through him. Then he smiled sadly, just the smallest upward quirk of his lips. “I missed you, too.”

We sat down side by side on my bed, tentatively renegotiating the closeness that had once been so comfortable and easy between us. His body was coiled, not like he wanted to spring up, but as though all he wanted in the world was to be closer, and when he got closer, it still wouldn’t be close enough.

I knew that feeling well, and had never thought it would find me again.

“This is hard,” he said. He looked away, and seeing him was like gazing into a mirror of how Ina had made me feel sometimes.

“Hal,” I said. Just his name, a simple thing. I let the fingers of my uninjured hand wander down his jawline, then brushed my thumb over his lip like he’d done to me the night before. His breath hitched in a way that made a dangerous wave of desire rise in me.

This time, I couldn’t help but give in.

I leaned forward and tentatively pressed my lips to his—and then my breath caught, too, as he tenderly kissed me back. We explored each other with the familiarity of friends and the strangeness of new lovers, delighting in the ways we could make each other feel with even the lightest touch. Eventually he laid me down on the bed, his deepening kisses waking a slow-burning hunger in me that I thought had died forever after Ina broke my heart. And just as surely as Ina had shattered me, he put me back together piece by piece until the fire he ignited burned brighter than any she had ever called.

For the first time since leaving Amalska, I felt like I was coming home.





CHAPTER 28


THE NEXT DAY, AFTER A BRIEF TALK WITH EYWIN about my abilities and what we hoped to accomplish, he sent Hal and me into the forest to collect some of the rarer ingredients he hadn’t managed to cultivate in the castle gardens. I took the opportunity to steal kisses from Hal all afternoon as we walked hand in hand through the woods, though the Fatestone was never far from my thoughts. The sounds of the city faded into a distant hum the farther away we went.

“So what’s your plan for the battle beyond what you’ve discussed with Eywin?” Hal asked.

“To make sure it doesn’t happen,” I said. I’d have to endear myself to the king quickly if I wanted him to speak to the gods on my behalf. I doubted he’d do so for any random person who asked, but I was the only bloodscribe. His inkmistress. I wasn’t dispensable, and that gave me power.

“But what if you can’t find the Fatestone? What if you can’t stop it?” He frowned. “I don’t like all the ways this could go wrong.”

“I at least have to try.” I had to stop Ina from killing the king—especially now that I knew the kingdom would fall apart if she did. “If I try, there’s still hope of bringing back the people of my village. It’s my fault they’re gone.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” Hal said.

“No, I know I’m responsible. I can feel it,” I said, my voice resolute. But he’d seeded doubts. What if I changed the past and the bandits destroyed Amalska on a different day? What if Ina found the dragon on her own, and some other series of events led her to embark on the same murderous quest she’d ended up on now? Could I truly plan for all those potential paths?

“If you’re sure this is the only way, then I’ll help you if I can.” He kissed me again, and a little stab of guilt went through me when I pulled away and saw some of the levity gone from his eyes. I knew he was thinking again about what changing the past might mean for us.

“Either way, it isn’t a bad idea for me to work with Eywin and start using the smaller aspects of my gift again.” I’d given it some thought. The king was right. I needed to be able to match Nismae enchantment for enchantment, whether the battle came to pass or not. This was my blood. My gift. I had to be its greatest master. I had to be the most powerful, not because I wanted to hurt anyone, or needed to win, but because this power belonged to me. Only I could make sure that it was used for good and not evil.

“What kind of tinctures do you think will be helpful in the battle?” Hal asked.

“I’ll show you,” I said, tugging him to a stop. A little rush went through me. I could give him the ability to see the world through my eyes. I could give him another little piece of myself. I’d never really shown him the smaller things of which I was capable. I’d spent so much time hiding, so much time fearful, that my power had been only a dark, blurry thing hanging over us. Not something useful or real.

“Show me what?” he asked, puzzled.

“Everything. Close your eyes.” I pulled out the little knife Eywin had lent me, dredging up memories of how I’d done this for Miriel. It was the spell we’d used most often—the one that gave her the ability to use my Sight.