A brief look of surprise flashed across his face, followed by a glint of amusement in his pale golden eyes. “I like your candor. Go on. Get on with it. The suspense is killing me.”
Becka wished she felt as hopeful as Langdon. No, hopeful wasn’t right. His amusement in the face of the facts wasn’t him being hopeful. He was resigned. He knew the risks and was willing to accept whatever might happen for a chance at leaving this curse behind. She slid off her gloves, tucking them into her pants pocket. “Don’t move.”
Over the past few months, Becka had become used to holding her powers within her skin. This was a fundamental aspect of her training with Astrid and something she’d become competent doing as her default state without a lot of extra effort. Pushing beyond her skin now took mental effort and focus. She’d gotten a decent amount of control over the past few months.
She still wore the sea silk gloves during the day and didn’t know how great her control was when she slept, but at least Becka no longer worried about controlling her Null power every waking moment. When she’d been unconscious after the poisoning, her shifter guards had moved her to the infirmary with no ill effects, and Illan had treated her using gloves of his own.
During the months since they had assigned the shifters to her, she’d come into contact with them many times with no ill effect. They were fearless, convinced her fae gift had no ability to harm them. Becka didn’t understand what bolstered their confidence. If their positions had been reversed, Becka would not have risked contact.
The shifters’—and Quinn’s—apparent immunity was the subject of ongoing debate within the Illusionists Guild. Astrid continued to push for more control during their training sessions, always aiming for the next level. Her aunt had privately expressed her concern to Becka that newly emerged gifts had, historically, been difficult to predict in their development, and so she wanted Becka to err on the side of caution.
The potential that her gift might evolve sent momentary chills down her spine. What if it grew stronger over time? So strong she lost the ability to control it and it later drove her mad?
Becka shook her head to center her thoughts and moved her chair back a few inches. She then let her gift fill her bare palms. She hesitated. She’d never done magic deliberately on a person before. What if she screwed up, and she left Langdon worse off? What if it worked, and he was also worse off?
“He knows there are risks, Becka,” Saana said in low tones. “Sometimes the pain is worth the risk.”
Langdon met Becka’s gaze and nodded at her to get on with it.
Becka paused. “I have your consent?”
“Yeah, yeah, get on with it, lass,” his weathered gaze was grim.
Becka let out a long sigh and focused on the task at hand. She reached down and brought her hands millimeters from the bottoms of Langdon’s stumps. With intention, she pushed her gift ever closer to the skin.
She experienced the sensation of pushing against an unseen barrier. The migraine slamming into her skull was the first sign she’d gone far enough, and she immediately stopped. If she needed to do more, there was plenty of time for that. Too much, and she did not know what the consequences might be to him. Even as Becka pulled back and stood, pushing her chair out from under her, Langdon howled. He grabbed at his legs, as if trying to rub away the pain.
His flesh twisted and roiled, the rootlike tendrils of human skin flailing and withdrawing as if burned by an unseen fire. The skin of his legs, which had been covered in knots and a tree-bark-like scale, shuddered and then slowly paled.
Was it working? Despite the aching in her head, a spark of hope leapt in her chest.
Yet Langdon screeched, “Ow! Ow! Stop it!” in terse staccato beats.
Should I have exposed him to more? For longer? Becka wrung her hands.
Another few moments of Langdon bellowing and Becka holding her breath… and then there was a discernible trend towards the better with his feet. Then Langdon got quiet, and Becka knew things would be better when she could make out his toes. Chunks of dirt had peeled off his legs, falling in sodden clumps to the floor. A frog emerged from one clump, a declarative ribbit filling the chamber. And were those more snails? Ugh.
Langdon jumped up, launching himself into the air. He scrunched his toes and danced back and forth on his feet for a few seconds, before grabbing Becka by the arms and scooping her into a boisterous twirl around his chair.
I can’t believe that worked! He’s no longer in pain. I helped him!
A moment later, Langdon’s feet went out from under him. Had he slipped on a clod of mud he’d shed mere moments before? Or the snails? She hoped it wasn’t the frog.
Regardless, he lost his grip on Becka, yet the momentum of his dance propelled her backwards and dumped her into Hanna Hawthorne’s lap, messing up the pattern of her perfectly placed skirt in an instant.
Chapter 16
Despite the fae-born having the reputation for excelling in dexterity, strength, and grace, Hanna and Becka tumbled sideways to the floor. Becka blamed the trajectory of her impact for the rolling tumble, but no doubt the unexpected nature of being tossed onto Hanna’s lap was more to blame. Becka reached out to break her fall, grabbing Hanna by the arm as they came to a stop.
Becka pushed Hanna away, her other hand touching Hanna’s shoulder. Her head. Already pounding from working her Null abilities on Langdon, it throbbed anew with such intensity she let out a groan. Before she could right herself, hands grasped her around the waist and lifted her off of Hanna. Luce set Becka down on her feet, her arm at Becka’s hips to steady her.
“Are you all right?” Luce asked.
Becka held
