Roar (Stormheart #1)(110)

But it wasn’t long ago that she had fallen in that river, too weak to even stand. And now that he knew he had her firsts, he was determined to make each one as special as she deserved. Which meant the bank of a river, while she suffered from the cold breeze with wet hair, was definitely not the right time.

“I will show you,” he promised her, “as frequently and thoroughly as you like. But not now. Not here. Let me get you back to camp where it’s warm. We’ve got all the time in the world, princess.”





A soul is a curious thing. It is all the forms of one’s self—what one was, what one is, and what one could be. And the trajectory of both life and death are ruled by the self each of us clings to the most.

—personal journal of spirit witch Avira Croixell





23

“I’m telling you, she’s too much of a risk. It’s only a matter of time before the news about this Stormlord and Locke spreads. Then she’ll put us in danger in every city we visit. One look at her chest, and they’ll put us in the stocks at best, the noose at worst.”

Roar’s stomach sank as she and Locke approached camp and overheard the discussion happening there.

“What would you have us do, Sly?” The question came from Jinx. “Abandon her in the desert? Leave her in Taraanar? Besides, if she can call storms, maybe it will be useful. We would no longer have to use our own raw magic supplies while we hunt. We could save it all for the markets. Maybe she could even call a specific storm when we’re running low. We could collect the magic without the risk and time it takes to search out a storm.”

“People are not meant to have dominion over storms,” Sly said. “It’s unnatural. She’s unnatural.”

Locke wrapped his arms around Roar, spinning her behind him as if the words were arrows, and he could take the hit for her.

“It’s okay,” she whispered to him.

“It’s not,” he growled. “I should have ended her complaints about you weeks ago.”

She lifted a hand to his face, the bristles along his jaw tickling her palms. “She’s not wrong.”

“Of course she is. Did you do anything to gain these powers? Before you felt the emotions of that first storm—were you under some enchantment? Did you utilize some magic without telling us?”

“No, but—”

“Then whatever this gift is, you were born with it. Which means while it might be rare, it is natural.”

“Locke…” She should tell him about the souls she could sense around them. Maybe then he would understand that this gift, as he called it, was too dangerous. Too much. Born with it or not, it did not feel natural to be able to manipulate spirits in such a way.

Before she could find the words, Sly continued her complaints. “I’m not saying she is evil. But you have to admit we know very little about her. Between us, we have decades of experience with storms. We come from all over Caelira—cities and wilds alike. In all that time, there have only ever been two people with these abilities. Roar. And a man who single-handedly destroyed an entire kingdom. We would be fools to trust her blindly.”

Roar pushed out of the trees and past Locke, saying, “What did you say?”

Sly spun around, her mouth open with shock, and for a moment fear flickered in her eyes. Roar recoiled, and Locke was there behind her, hands at her waist.

“I—I only meant—”

“There’s someone else like me?”

It was Locke who answered, his voice low and soothing. “It’s only rumors. We know nothing for certain.”

“Tell me the rumors.” When Locke did not continue, she turned to Duke. He had always been willing to answer her questions. “Duke?”

The old man cleared his throat, and Locke’s grip at her waist tightened. Duke said, “The minister in Toleme, he was afraid when he saw the skyfire in you. He had heard rumors of a man who held a storm in his chest like you do now. That man could command storms and used them to wipe out a city.”

Roar gasped. “Calibah? Is that why the storms there were so relentless?”

Duke drew back, shock and even a little horror in his expression. His voice shook and his eyes darted wildly as he said, “I—no, not Calibah. But…” The man trailed off with a quiet curse, and his scarred hands shook as he covered his mouth.

“It was Locke,” Jinx finished. “Apparently, the city was demolished by storms from the sea.”

“What?” Roar’s head spun and that instability she felt in her soul—like it might slip outside her—flared up again. Suddenly, the souls that surrounded them were too close, and she choked on the air in her lungs. Her skin went slick with cold as all those souls reached out for her, as if they wanted inside her.

“ENOUGH!” The skyfire in her chest shone bright and solid, not flickering, but beaming. The badgering souls disappeared and it took all her strength to stay standing.

“Roar?” Locke yelled. “Roar, what’s happening?”

“See!” Sly shouted. “This is what I meant. She is an aberration.”

Locke snarled, “I have always considered you a friend, Sly. But say that again, and I’ll not hesitate to make you my enemy.”

“Quiet. All of you.” Duke stepped into the middle of the group, his expression fierce and disappointed. “This is not how we behave. The battle is out there, not here between us. Sly, some would say the storms themselves are an aberration. And you’ve spent your life showing them respect. You will provide the same courtesy to Roar. Locke, I understand how you feel, my boy. But love’s first inclination cannot be to war. Calm yourself. And we will figure this out together.”