Soul Fire (Darkling Mage 8)

I was frustrated by then, and also exceedingly hot. I’d showered that day, but I was keenly aware of the fact that the quickly failing sparring session was making me a sweatier, slightly smellier version of myself. Still handsome, though.

And Bastion had to run around putting out the little fires I was inevitably lighting all over the hilltop. I mean I was aiming for him, mostly, so that my flames could safely dissipate against his shields, but everyone misses sometimes, you know?

I guess I missed a lot. Bastion had shucked the leather jacket by the time he’d run to extinguish the third smallish grass fire. By then the most successful thing I’d done was call out a sharpened extension of shadow while I was holding a fireball in my hand. The result? Both of them snuffed out and disappeared into nothing.

“Time out,” Bastion said, gripping his knees and panting. “I’m going to pass out if I have to spend any more magic putting out your stupid fires.”

“Don’t be such an ass,” I said. “I’m trying my damn best.”

Bastion hooked his hands under the hem of his shirt. “God, and it’s so hot, too.”

“N-no it’s not,” I said, despite very palpably feeling the sweat on my back turn cold.

“Too hot.”

He just yanked his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the grass somewhere near his jacket. Yeah, he was definitely hot. Sorry, I meant sweaty. You know what? Never mind.

“Okay,” I said. “That’s it. We’re done here.”

Bastion scratched his bare stomach, like he was deliberately trying to get me to look there. Damn it. “I’m giving you this opportunity to learn, Dust. In ways that you can’t with the Boneyard. What, you think there are just shortcuts to this kind of thing?”

“There are,” I said, cautiously backing away, matching each of Bastion’s steps as he approached me. “Carver went through lichdom. And your grandmother, with the Coven of One.”

Bastion stopped in his tracks. “You can’t be seriously considering any of that bullshit. That’s why we’re here, me and the others. To help you.”

“She came to me,” I blurted out. “Hecate. She said she heard me thinking about her, all those conversations we must have had about seeing her, me worrying about dealing with Odin, with Agatha. She says there are other ways, beyond even lichdom and the ritual of thirteen. I’m – I don’t know what to do.”

“Well it isn’t that,” Bastion said. “Not what she’s suggesting, not if it means you’ll lose – God, what would even be left of you?”

I shrugged, staring at the grass. “That was the implication. Access to real, intense magic means sacrifice, one way or another. All those people Carver and Agatha killed to gain their power, or even Romira giving up her soul for patronage.”

“You always have a choice,” Bastion said, his voice suddenly nearer. I hadn’t noticed how close he had come. The scent of his cologne filled my nostrils.

“I do,” I said, stumbling away. “And I know this has nothing to do with what we’re talking about, but – I choose Herald. Chose him from the beginning.”

Bastion’s muscles tensed. “What does that even mean?” he said, forcing a chuckle.

I threw my hands up. “What’s even happening here, Bastion? You’ve been weird. Since I got together with Herald,

you’ve been acting, I don’t know. Different. Maybe even a little predatory.”

He flinched, then scowled at me. “That’s a little overboard, don’t you think? I’m just like this when – when I.” His chest expanded as he took a deep breath, then he sighed. “God, I don’t even know what’s going on anymore. I have a hard time dealing with situations where I don’t get what I want.”

The sweat clinging to my skin somehow felt colder, even as an unwelcome thrill of excitement burned in my chest. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

He shook his head, saying nothing.

“So all that time you were an ass to me, ever since I joined the Lorica. That’s you being a kindergartener, pulling my hair and being mean because you didn’t know how else to express things?”

He threw his hands up, frowning. “I don’t fucking know, okay? I’m new to all this shit. Never even been in a relationship.”

“You’re joking.” I stood there with my jaw on the ground. Sebastion Brandt, single since birth? It was difficult to process.

He shook his head, the peaks of his ears redder as he stared at the ground, sticking his hands deep in his pockets. “I became a Scion because I always knew that was my destiny. Since before I was born, I was meant to rise to the top. That’s not even the pride talking. It’s who I was meant to be.” He reached for the back of his head, scratching awkwardly as he locked eyes with me. “But I also wanted to get there so I’d have more clout when it came to the Heart. To actually be influential in the Lorica’s leadership, have any kind of effect on the decisions they made.” He lowered his head again, mumbling his next words. “Maybe I sort of did it because I wanted to protect you from them.”

I thought my jaw couldn’t drop any lower. The breath came rushing out of me. The wind seemed to have gotten weaker, the grass on the hilltop gone still. I stared out at the lights of Valero, in some ways wishing I could be anywhere else.

“This is extremely confusing for me,” I said.