Bastien pulls a dagger from a sheath at his hip, and Amell raises his hand. Blue sparks crackle at his fingertips, but I jump in between them as I yell, “Stop it. Both of you.”
Amell’s hand drops, and Bastien reluctantly pushes the blade back into the scabbard.
I step up to Amell and have to tip my head way back. “I want the shadow magic. Give it to me.”
“As you wish, Princess,” he says with a smile. His hands come to the sides of my neck, and a wind swirls around us. My eyes lock to his, and I’m fascinated by the dark storm clouds brewing in his irises.
Amell bends toward me, and I have a terrifying moment when I realize I’ve put my trust into not only a complete stranger but a fallen angel who rules Hell. I half expect him to open his mouth to devour me, but instead, he presses his lips to the top of my head.
The kiss unleashes what feels like an icy waterfall sweeping through my body, chilling me to the bone. Just as my teeth start to chatter, Amell steps away, and I’m warm once again.
The wind dies, and I feel… normal.
No different at all.
“Did it work?” I ask with a frown.
I’m sure in a move calculated to irritate Bastien with his inability to protect me, Amell lunges at the speed of light and grabs my wrist. A knife appears in his hand, the blade glinting against the sunlight, and before I can even think to scream, he drags the tip across my palm and cuts into the flesh he’d healed for me.
I yipe from the pain but the cut is shallow. Just as quickly, the knife disappears, and Amell nods downward.
I stare in horror and understanding as I see that my blood is black instead of red. Extending my arm, I show it to Bastien and Heph, who inch closer.
“Fae blood,” Heph murmurs. “It’s black.”
“Daemon blood used to be black too,” Amell says, a fact we know from our histories. It seemed pointless until he adds, “I suspect those latent genes from your daemon ancestry helped kick-start the change.”
“Will my blood always be black?” I ask, aghast.
Amell waves his hand over my palm, the cut heals, and the inky blood disappears. “As long as you have the shadow magic, yes.”
“Does it mean I’m evil?” I look deep into myself and now I feel something…lurking, waiting, anticipating.
My father actually rolls his eyes and refuses to answer. “What else might you require of me?” he asks with a tip of his head.
“Knowledge,” I blurt without hesitation. “Teach me how to use it. Show me what to do with this power. Come back to Clairmont—”
“No,” Bastien growls.
I ignore him. “Come back to Clairmont for a few days and help me become strong enough to defeat Ferelith.”
“Thalia,” Bastien warns.
Amell looks at Bastien and levels a wicked grin at him. “Your man doesn’t like me very much.”
“Not my man,” I say, preempting Bastien’s denial we have anything more than just sex.
“No, he’s not,” Amell agrees.
“First chance I get,” Bastien says darkly, “I’m going to kill you.”
“Excuse me if I don’t quake in fear from the threat of a puny mortal,” Amell says.
“It was a puny mortal who killed Kymaris,” Bastien points out.
“Enough!” I yell. They’re like children, and I feel like I need to send them both to time-out.
I turn to Bastien. “He’s coming because it’s the fastest way to teach me how to use this new power. Get over it.”
Amell laughs, and I wheel around to face him. “And you, stop antagonizing. I’d expect better from the king of the Underworld.”
The laugh dies and his face slackens, then flushes with embarrassment.
I then turn to Heph. “Would you like to come with us?”
“Can I?” he asks hopefully.
“Your banishment is officially ended,” I proclaim, and Heph beams. “And we need your help.”
Because I’m not going to turn my nose up at blood magic.
I might have the power of shadows now—whatever that means—but I know we can use simple blood spells to boost powers for our own magicals. As Heph said, we can use it to create perfect spells. We will use our own blood and won’t spill a drop of innocents’ life force. With that, my mind spins with possibilities. I bet I could create a method to bend distance with masses of troops. I can protect them with charms and amulets. I can render Ferelith’s magic useless, and possibly break the blood oaths people have sworn to her.
I’m giddy with it all.
“Let’s pack up and go,” I announce, and then I give my attention back to Amell. “I expect I have the power now to bust through Ferelith’s cloak she has over the Rosethorns, so we can bend distance right from here to Clairmont and save time. I’d like to test that out.”