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“Ready,” I said. I didn’t know if I was, but surely rising into the aetheric was as natural to me as breathing was to a human.
It wasn’t. Not anymore. It felt wrong, the way I had to fight free of the heavy, dragging anchor of my body. Only Ma
I had not known it was such hard work.
Ma
His aura was a pale blue, tinged and sparked with yellow and gold. Not as powerful as others I had seen, but powerful enough for the work he was doing.
He pointed, and I nodded, bracing myself for the fall. When it came, it was shockingly fast. The ground rushed toward us, and the snap of energy whipped us to a hovering stop above a landscape alive with a twisting line of fire. Not real fire, but energy, stored deep beneath the planet’s skin. Building toward explosion.
Had I still been Dji
Humans were not so fortunate. For the first time, I found myself wondering about the fates of those milling thousands in their homes, towns, and cities, oblivious to the explosive danger under their feet.
I found myself caring.
I wasn’t sure whether I found that intriguing or a
Bleeding off the energy through surrounding rock was a delicate, slow process, but gradually the fault’s energy faded from a throbbing, urgent red to a pale gold, stable and calm. It would present a constant threat, but with regular maintenance from the Earth Wardens, it would only threaten, not destroy.
When Ma
I slammed back into flesh with a spasmodic jerk that nearly toppled the armchair. Across from me, Ma
He opened his eyes to look at me, and there was a glow in his eyes that took me by surprise. Power, yes, and something else.
Rapture.
It faded quickly, as if he didn’t want me to see it in him. “You okay?” he asked. I shook my head. My mouth was dry, my stomach empty and growling. Worse than that, though, I felt . . . exhausted. Drained again. I felt a soul-deep stab of frustration. I can’t live this way, off of the scraps of others. I am Dji
Ashan had made me a beggar, and in that moment, I hated him for it so bitterly that I felt tears in my eyes. Now I would weep like a human, too. How much more humiliation could I bear?
Ma
“I need—” I couldn’t speak. I’d taken so much this morning, and yet it was already spent. I felt on the verge of collapse, horribly exposed.
Ma
I nodded.
It was trust, simple and raw, and I did not deserve it.
It took a wrenching, painful effort, but I took what was offered, and nothing more.
Perhaps I could learn to deserve it.
Chapter 4
WE HAD WORKED only a half day at reducing the stress in the fault, but Ma
“I’m fine,” I told him sharply, as he gathered up his keys on the way to the door.
“Yeah, you’re fine now,” he said, “but you’re going to need some sleep. Trust me on this, Cassiel. Wardens go through this when we first start out. It’s natural to have to build up your endurance.”
Not for a Dji
Ma
Not a stranger, after all. Gallan. He didn’t so much as glance at Ma
“What do you want?” I asked. Gallan—tall in this form, long-legged, with long, dark hair worn loose—seemed to find me amusing in my fragile human form. He leaned against the wall, with his arms folded, still blocking our path.
“I came to see if it was true.” His eyebrows slowly lifted. “Apparently, it is. How did you anger him so, Cassiel?”
There was only one him, for us. Gallan was, at times, a friend and ally, but first and foremost, he was a Dji
“Have you seen any others? Since—” His gesture was graceful, vague, and yet all inclusive. Since this happened. The event being, of course, too embarrassing and humiliating to mention directly.
“No,” I said sharply. I had, but there was no reason to tell him. “Leave, Gallan. I don’t want company.”
“You never do.” He smiled slowly. “Until you do. Tell me that it is completely done between us, and I won’t trouble you again.”
I felt my pale cheeks heating—a human response. Pulse beating faster. I didn’t know if it was fright or something else. Something just as primitive.
“Leave.”
“Tell me again.” His eyes took on a brilliant gleam, sharp enough to cut.
“Leave.”
“Again.” He took a step toward me, and I felt the heat of him, the smoke, the fire. “Once more and it’s done, Cassiel. Once more and you’ll never see me again.”
The word locked in my throat. Threes are powerful to us, compelling. I could dismiss him, and he would go.
I could not say it.
Another step brought him even closer to me, close enough to raise a hand that trailed light a Crai6" t the edges of my vision. He stroked my cheek, and I shuddered.
Gallan leaned closer, so close he eclipsed the world, and those eyes were as hungry as gravity.
“Do what he wants,” he whispered, barely a breath in my ear, “and come home, Cassiel. Come home.”
He melted away into mist. I caught my breath on a cry—rage, loss; I wasn’t certain what emotion tore a hole through me, except that it was violent and painful.
Ma
I barked out a sound that was not quite a laugh. “A friend.” I got a look of utter disbelief in return. “A very old friend.”
The human world seemed so limited and lifeless, after the glitter in Gallan’s eyes. I felt sick and faint and lost. It must have shown, because Ma
“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”
Days passed, and Ma