My forehead wrinkled. Where had the day gone? I felt as if I had been in my mind for no more than an hour, not the whole afternoon.
Gage continued, “We’ll resume your training tomorrow. Be ready at sunrise. Do not be late. Training will follow a similar format to this afternoon, starting with a training run, then focusing on self-defense. We’ll break for lunch, and the afternoon will be dedicated to magic.”
“But I failed to find my spark!” I cried. “You saw that wall—it was impassable. How am I meant to scale it?”
I could barely see the outline of his face in the fall of inky darkness, but his voice was scathing. “Only you can answer that question. But know this; if you manage to get past that wall, your spark will be there.”
“How?”
His expression hardened. “There is no easy path, Brydie. Every Druid must pass their own test. It’s not up to me to tell you how to overcome your challenge. You need to figure it out for yourself. Finding your spark is not meant to be easy. You need to earn its power, give it the respect it deserves. Tackling that wall may take days, or it may take weeks. The timeframe is dependent on you.”
I felt my stomach flip. “Weeks? Do we have that long?”
“It’s all we have.” Gage gave me a once over, his keen eyes taking in the exhaustion that I made no effort to hide. “Fuel up and get some rest. We begin again at first light.”
He turned on the balls of his feet and began striding back to the Estate. In the looming dusk, the castle looked warm and inviting, the windows twinkling with light. But the vista wasn’t on my mind as I cried out, “Wait!”
He stopped but didn’t turn to face me.
“How do you know my magic is even there?” I asked his back.
“It’s there. Prophecy demands it.”
“But how do you know?” I pushed.
“Because I felt it.”
8
Gage
I stood in the shower, knuckles throbbing. I hadn’t bothered to heal my hand—I didn’t deserve it. Guilt was a sword thrust in my gut, sharp and acidic.
I felt uncomfortable at the lengths I’d gone to this afternoon, at the actions I’d undertaken. I was no stranger to violence but hurting women did not come naturally to me. I’d tried to fight that innate urge to train Brydie with care, but prophecy had rebelled with a ferocity that wouldn’t be denied. The darkness that always hovered over my shoulder had immediately descended as we faced each other on the lawn in front of the Estate. I knew exactly what that dark presence was because it had touched my soul innumerable times before.
In that moment, my senses had immediately dulled, and my emotions had banked as if held back by a tide of indifference. The hands of fate had guided me as I stood there facing Brydie. It had felt as though I stood apart from reality—as if I watched from afar as I punched, kicked, thrust, and jabbed at her tender flesh. I’d felt the bile rise up in my throat as she’d doubled over, felt the sharp stab of guilt as she’d spat in my face and called me a bastard.
And what had I done? Nothing! Because fate had held me firmly in hand. I’d also known I could not rebel because prophecy allowed no one and nothing to come between fate.
Prophecy was continuously at my back, urging me to ensure that every move we made drove it forward, turning Brydie into who she needed to be—who she must become—in order to stand a chance against Talorgan. And I couldn’t fight the manner in which to train her. It was like a knife point against my throat, and if I allowed it to destroy me, prophecy wouldn’t stand a chance.
Eyes closed, I curled my hands into fists and raised my head, urging the warm water to wash away the darkness inside me, to cleanse my soul anew from the actions I’d been forced to undertake. It was a temporary reprieve, for those memories crowded back in.
I had struggled to sustain objectivity as each kick, thrust, and punch knocked her to the ground. I could still hear the crunch of cartilage as my fist smashed into her nose. My stomach roiled, and I slammed my palm against the shower wall. It did nothing to ease the guilt in my chest, nothing to bank the fire that licked at the edges of my consciousness, clawing for release. The intensity of that fire was a warning.
Shit! I needed to release it, and soon.
I reached out and wrenched off the taps, exiting the bathroom to swiftly change into a fresh set of clothes. The clothes I’d been wearing earlier were in the washing basket, tainted by smatters of Brydie’s blood. The thought only further ignited my rioting emotions.
A swift glance through the bedroom window confirmed the veil of darkness had well and truly fallen. Good. I didn’t need any witnesses tonight.
Grabbing a black beanie from my drawer, I pulled it over my head for added protection and left my room.
Outside, the air was biting. The Scottish winter had settled in with a vengeance. The snow dusting the peaks of the Cairngorms glistened under the moonlight, a bright beacon in the darkness.
I paused on the lawn and sent a tingle of awareness out on the breeze, searching for anything untoward. But there was nothing, not even a faint shiver. The lack of threat should have soothed me; it didn’t. What had happened to Nora was like an open wound, gnawing at me constantly. And it was a threat that could destroy the last Daughter of Winter. Again I wondered, for the umpteenth time. How had the wards failed?
But we still did not have an answer; I hoped Ian would reach a conclusion soon.
I let loose another tendril of my power, allowing the gift of sight to come forward. I blinked as the veil dropped, and as my eyes opened, I was now able to pierce the shadows and see past the darkness. Not hesitating further, I took off at a loping run over the lawn and into the dense forest beyond.
The air was sharp and cold as it chased down my throat, temporarily dampening the fire that raged in my belly. My spark of power was insistent now; it had built to a crescendo with a need that couldn’t be denied. I put on a burst of speed, my arms and legs pumping in time to the pound of my blood. Soon after, I burst through the copse of trees, arriving at my destination.
I felt the air immediately change as I entered the clearing. There was a watchful presence here, along with an ominous tingle of energy—a residue of the Winter Goddess’s power.
I walked unerringly to the small mountain pool in the middle of the clearing, ignoring the hulking, flat stone that resided to my right. That stone was not my birthright, but its presence was enough to remind me of its true descendent and the crunch of her cartilage under my fist.
Gritting my teeth, I turned my back to the stone and stopped at the water’s edge. I looked down into its indigo depths. My reflection stared back in the moonlight. I didn’t miss the sharp angle of my jaw, the tension around my mouth, or the cant of my eyes. My expression confirmed I was on the edge of my power, and that I’d been right to come here.
Just in time.
I dropped to my knees, the damp stones cutting into my jeans, and raised both of my hands in front of me, palms hovering above the water. My hands instantly came ablaze, fire licking my skin. I felt the answering burn inside my chest, felt the draw of heat as it razed my lungs. Smoke curled on my tongue and I tasted ashes. The emotions I’d held at bay—the anger at what I’d been forced to do to Brydie today—rose to the surface.
Taking a deep breath, I thrust my hands into the tarn’s freezing depths and allowed my emotions free rein. Images of our training session hours before replayed through my mind. Every punch, every kick, every jab into Brydie’s petite body. I poured the guilt, the anger, and the devastation out of my body, through my hands, and into that freezing pool of water.