A Battle of Blood and Stone (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 4)

We woke up this morning, had a bit of a leisurely morning in bed, which translates into Carrick wanting to make love slowly rather than the sort of frenzy we often find ourselves falling into, especially with the October new moon getting closer. There were no regrets on spending lazy time together in bed. After, we enjoyed an immense breakfast prepared by Zaid.

I’m eating more than I ever have, but my body is actually changing for the better. I’d always been on the thin side, but with as much as I’m working out and training nearly every day, Zaid has been packing me full of good proteins and vegetables so I’ve become incredibly toned in all the right muscles.

I have never felt stronger physically.

Magically… well… that’s another story as I’m like a baby foal taking her first uneasy steps into a new life.

Today, Carrick announced we’d be training with magic only. Hence the little pep talk before we start.

“You ready?” he asks. He’s now a good ten paces from me in the middle of the gym’s open area.

“Ready.”

“Okay,” he says, studying me carefully while he thinks. I get a little distracted watching him watch me because he’s so incredibly gorgeous in track pants and a t-shirt, hair actually a bit messy after his shower as he did nothing more than run his fingers through it after a rough towel dry. I don’t think he’s had a haircut in the last few months and the longer, semi-shaggy look is a pretty damn big change from the suave, perfectly styled hair.

It fits his prophecy-fighting personality better, for sure.

“Here’s the scenario,” Carrick says, and I have to blink away my dreamy thoughts of him. “You’re walking down a dark alley at night by yourself, and you have no weapon on you.”

“Why in the hell would I ever do that?” I ask teasingly.

Carrick merely cocks his eyebrow. “Do we really need to discuss the fact you went into a dark alley without a weapon and almost got killed by a succubus?”

My face heats, and I look off to the side in slight embarrassment.

“So… dark alley, no weapons,” Carrick repeats.

“Got it.”

“Boral decides to go all evil, has ratted you out to Kymaris, and she has ordered him to kill you. He jumps out from behind a dumpster, ready to attack.”

I purse my lips, putting a hand on my hip. “Really? You’re going to use Boral as part of our scenario?”

“Can’t stand the fucker,” Carrick mutters. “So why not?”

“You know he’s actually very grateful to you for saving Zaid,” I say, feeling that Boral would probably hate me sharing that, but oh well.

Carrick scoffs deep in his throat.

“You should cut him some slack,” I suggest primly.

“Never,” Carrick growls back, and I don’t respond. We’ll always be at an impasse where Boral is concerned. “Let’s imagine a Dark Fae has jumped out at you. I’m the Dark Fae. What do you throw at me?”

This isn’t a trick question because there are probably a dozen different things I could come up with off the top of my head. I may not have tried all the things I’d use to attack with my magic, but I have often imagined scenarios in my head.

It takes me no time at all to pull out the thing that makes the most sense.

A magical whip.

Warmth fires up in my chest without much effort at all. I move like I’m reaching into my non-existent backpack over my shoulder and I conjure the handle and thong that’s electric white-blue and crackles with electricity from behind my back. Even the handle is lit up, but it doesn’t hurt my hand.

Slicing my arm down hard, I send the thong toward Carrick, but I pull it back just a tad so it doesn’t actually strike him. He wasn’t expecting it, though, and he jumps back a few feet as the electrical arc comes his way. It makes a louder crack than my real whip does.

“Not bad.” He grins. “Granted, that wouldn’t kill a fae, but it would make them think twice about rushing you.”

As I let my arm fall, the thong comes to rest on the floor in a lazy “S” shape. I twirl the handle a bit, making the thong swirl in a pretty pattern of light.

“Conjure a weapon to kill,” Carrick commands, and I lift my head.

Easy as pie. I drop the electric light whip and before the handle hits the ground, the entire thing evaporates into nothing. Rolling my wrist, I imagine a battle-ax appearing, except I make a minor alteration. The ones that Carrick has are incredibly heavy, and I usually have to wield them with two hands once I start to get fatigued. I make this one a little smaller, not as weighty, and the grip perfectly fitted to my hand.

The weapon appears just as I imagine it.