Closing my eyes, I concentrate. There is a warmth that fills me almost immediately. I push the sensation away as I shift my focus to Jeremiah. I don’t know if I can control this, but if I can, this will be huge—massive
Inhaling, I sense the scent of smoke from the campfires, there is chattering amongst the men, but I push that noise away. The wind blows, there is the scent of the red dirt that follows it, then I think of Jeremiah.
It takes all of the concentration that I have inside of me, but I do it.
She is beautiful and kind. James does not deserve the creature that she is. I would like a wife like her someday.
If this prophecy is true, I wonder what it has in store for us, for our country and for our world.
Something zaps and crackles around me and my body jolts forward, my back arching as I open my eyes wide and breathe heavily. Florence has her eyes closed and her arms extended, her palms facing me.
Sparks fly from her hands and slam into my chest, causing my back to arch again. She’s mumbling something, but I can’t quite make it out. I open my mouth to ask her what’s happening, but nothing comes out.
Then everything stops. I can hear shouting behind me. The world starts to spin around me, then my knees grow weak and everything goes completely dark.
JEREMIAH
I’m unsure if I should go to Florence or Birdie. Instead, I stand and stare at them both in surprise. Magic. It’s outlawed here, and yet, Colt has allowed it for this instance. I clear my throat, wondering what in the gods’ name I’m supposed to do.
Deciding that my first priority must be to Birdie, I rush to her aide. Scooping her up in my arms, I yell for Thatcher. He doesn’t even need direction before he wraps his hand around Florence’s elbow.
Quickly the four of us hurry into the house. We walk past dozens of men who are frozen in surprise watching us. Markus shouts for everyone to mind their own business and get back to work while following behind.
Once we’re inside, I call out for Colt as I hurry up the stairs and straight toward Birdie’s bedroom. Laying her down on her bed, I’m surprised to hear a commotion and see Martha standing at the doorway instead of Colt.
“What’s happened?” she demands.
“I don’t know, magic,” I mutter.
Her eyes widen and she shifts her gaze to the side where Thatcher is standing with Florence. Florence has her chin tipped up in the air and she doesn’t even look toward Martha, or anyone else.
I open my mouth to ask what exactly is happening, when I’m interrupted by Colton, who pushes past Florence and Martha, making his way into the bedroom. He dips his chin down to look at Birdie, then lifts his gaze to meet mine.
“What did you allow to happen to her?” he snaps.
I open my mouth to tell him that I didn’t do anything, when Florence speaks. “I’ve blocked her magic for the moment. I’ve absorbed what I can. I don’t know how long it will last, but she is only growing stronger and she is unable to control it.”
“Florence,” Colt hisses. “This does not sit well with me. Her magic is of the gods and not for you to take.”
Then, for whatever reason, Florence’s gaze shifts to meet mine before she speaks. “Birdie can tap into people’s minds. She can hear their thoughts and she could hear Jeremiah’s.”
The room is silent and my breath squeezes from my lungs at the idea of Miss Birdie being able to hear my thoughts. I try to remember what I was thinking when we were outside and my face pales. I was thinking of her, of how attracted to her I am.
“Her magic grows, Colton,” Florence announces.
Taking a step backward, I wonder what all of this means. The prophecy is so vague, everything that Colton has told me, is just theory and that she and her sisters are going to be powerful and they are meant to be the wives of the most powerful leaders of the world. But then what?
“Sparks flew between us earlier. I don’t know how, but they did. Are you saying, telepathy, like how I talk to Lonesable? It seems impossible,” he rasps. “Especially for a woman.”
Slowly, he makes his way toward the side of the bed, and I watch as he sinks down next to her. Watching them together, I realize that their pull is indeed intense. It’s so strong that you can practically feel it.
I would be more surprised in this moment if the gods were not involved, because this all seems so unworldly. Then it happens. He reaches out, his fingers touching the side of her face, and a light starts to glow around them.
“Oh my,” Florence gasps.
They begin to fade, Colton calls out, but the sound fades as they simply disappear in front of us.
Turning my head, I look over to Florence, but she is not offering any calm advice. Her mouth is hanging open and she’s staring at the empty bed. Then she lets out a wail and extends her hands.
Florence starts to chant something that I can’t understand and sparks fly from her fingertips, but nothing happens. Then as if whatever she is trying to do completely depletes her energy, she collapses as well.
Thatcher scoops her up and Ernest demands she be taken to his room, all the while the rest of us just continue to stare at one another, exchanging glances, but too in shock to actually speak. Then, as if things could not get any stranger, they do.
We hear a loud neigh, then there are shouts of the men from all around the camp. Rushing toward the window, I blink, more than once, at the sight before me. A gigantic white horse, a gigantic flying white horse is landing in the middle of the camp with a man on its back.
“I
