A Shade of Kiev 3(11)

I don’t know.

“No,” I muttered.

Keeping my eyes away from the steep drop, I lifted one shaking foot onto the ledge and tried to balance before raising the other one.

This is impossible.

I held onto one of the balcony pillars as both feet were now balancing on the railing.

“Now let go of the pillar.”

My heart hammered against my chest.

There’s no way I can do this.

Closing my eyes, I chanted a balancing charm in my mind, hoping that Rhys wouldn’t notice I was using magic.

I let go, pretending to flail my arms about as I balanced perfectly.

As I moved away from the column and walked to the center, the spell lifted. A gust of wind blew against me, making me lose my footing. Gravity sucked me downward, and the wind rushed past me as I hurtled toward the ground.

I tried to scream out a levitation charm but it didn’t have any effect. My powers seemed to have completely drained out of me. My eyes watered from the wind and I closed my eyes, preparing for the impact.

I expected my body to shatter, but instead, I found myself being caught by two strong arms, my body parallel with the ground, about three feet away from it. Rhys was levitating above me.

He lowered me gently to the ground, then pulled me upright.

My knees crumpled and I curled up on the floor, shaking.

“I told you not to use magic,” Rhys said.

“I would have fallen even faster had I not,” I gasped, glaring up at him.

“That’s not the point,” he said calmly. “I told you not to use it. If you want to succeed at this, you need to follow my instructions blindly. You are not to consider the consequences.” He bent down closer to me, brushing the hair away from my face. “Your only duty is to trust me.”

I continued to shake.

“Clearly, you still have not understood this. You need more practice. Tomorrow, we’ll give you just that.”

More practice.

His words plagued me as I lay in bed that night.





Chapter 12: Mona





Rhys made us leave our apartment early the next morning. We stopped outside his aunt Isolde’s door a few meters along from ours.

The witch came to the door after a few knocks, wearing a woolen night gown, her long grey-streaked hair tied up above her head in a bun.

“Mona and I will be leaving for a while,” Rhys said. “I’m not sure when we’ll return. So go on with the rituals without us.”

Isolde pursed her lips as her cold eyes settled on me.

“Where are you going?”

Rhys glanced down at me, then looked back at his aunt.

“Mona has decided to become a Channeler.”

She raised her eyebrows, eyeing me.

“Does she understand what that involves?”

“She will soon,” Rhys said.

“Very well.” Isolde closed her door.

Rhys gripped my arm and led me further along the corridor.

“When are you going to give me my magic back?” I asked irritably.

“Not yet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He stopped short and glared down at me.

“You’ll see.”

He reached out suddenly and held both of my hands in his. We vanished from the spot.

Several seconds later, I felt sand beneath my feet. I opened my eyes and as the scene around me came into focus, my heart skipped a beat.

“The ogres’ island,” I gasped, gripping Rhys’ arm so hard the blood drained from my knuckles.

It felt like I was living a nightmare as I stared up at the black metal gate that towered over us, its spikes topped with human heads. “I can’t be here! If they find me—”

“They’ll break your bones one by one and then skin you alive. I know. You murdered the king’s son.”

“They why are we here? Are you insane?”

Rhys remained calm. “Do you trust me?”

I stared at him disbelievingly.

“Trust you to what?”

“To hold your life in the palm of my hand.”

I paused.

“You already do,” I whispered.

“No. You have a choice. I can give you back your magic and we can return to the island. You don’t have to do this.”

I looked again at the dark silhouette of those gates, shuddering at the screams that seemed to pierce through the mountains themselves. The smell of roasting flesh drifted over the kingdom’s high walls, being carried by the sea breeze. It was lunch time.

But I do have to do this. I don’t have a choice.

I looked up at him again. His eyes remained fixed intensely on my face, as if studying my every emotion.

“I-I’ll do it.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

“I… trust you.”

“Are you afraid?”

I bit my lower lip to stop it trembling.

“If you really trust me, you won’t be afraid.”