Heir of Stardust and Secrets (Mythic Spark #1)

46. Ticktock

Chapter 46

Ticktock

A s it stood, there were two things we needed my power for: to create a bridge between realms, and to locate the magical object. Yesterday by the lake, Thaddeus had explained his theory while showing me where he believed there was a portal, and where they’d kept riding off to, day in and day out.

The theory was that because the spark’s source power was derived from the fae themselves, it was possible its likeness would grant me access to the fae realm—as if the barrier itself had a choice over such things. Where I could sense the threshold in a way Thaddeus couldn’t, I wasn’t able to gain access. Although, I hadn’t allowed myself to tap into that primordial essence—still feeling too raw.

While Thaddeus hadn’t pressed me to try harder, I couldn’t help but feel something was still off between us. He’d escorted me to my room after we’d arrived back in the wee hours of the night, only offering a swift kiss, claiming he’d have to ride at dawn again with Tarrin and Nevander back to the lake, the portal. I hoped his excuse genuine, but I couldn’t help feeling his side of the bed grow colder, as it’d remained empty for a second night in a row .

Thaddeus and Nevander were right. Even though the truth of their words struck a nerve every time I’d heard them, I knew their veracity. After all the time and practice, I still hadn’t learned how to control my powers—at least not with the precision and strength required. While it wasn’t explicitly stated, the overall implication was clear: if I couldn’t figure out how to wield the spark, I would have to be okay with relinquishing it to Thaddeus—who evidently could.

Prickling with a sense of urgency, I forewent the woods, poring over my notes in my suite, wanting to test what I’d been researching these past weeks. I wasn’t sure what shifted over the past few days, but everything felt taut with impending inevitability, like a storm you could feel in your bones yet couldn’t see.

I wanted more time with the tomes before testing, but more and more, time felt like a scarce resource, forcing me to work with what I had. Hopefully, my theories were right—and I now possessed the right colors and substrate for the spark to craft as she preferred, while providing what I needed.

For now, I only had theories about finding the magical object. I wanted to test them on something we’d lost, such as Thaddeus’ favorite pen. The fact that it was missing made it the perfect subject, as I didn’t want to risk already knowing the location of what I was tracking in case it skewed the results.

I had three methods I wanted to try. One was feeling where something was, much like the threshold I’d found yesterday. The second was seeing, similar to how Thaddeus had shown me the history of our people, the spark. The last was to summon an object. Why not see if I could make the magical object come to me? Which would solve both of our problems.

I glanced to the entrance of the octagon training room, double-checking that the door was latched. Satisfied, I leaned over my notes one more time, then sat upright, resting my backside on my heels.

Closing my eyes, I thought about a missing object that belonged to Thaddeus, keeping the details vague. As we didn’t know exactly what the magical object was, I needed to see if I could feel where the pen was without giving specifics.

Tendrils of my power were cast out as if the spark were indeed searching for something. Their wisps turned this way and that, darting about. After a time, my power flowed back into me as if looking for more instruction, like a hound with a lost toy returning empty-handed and wondering if its quarry ever existed at all.

Still withholding details, I cast it out again, to the same effect. Trying for a third time, my power stayed close, as if it knew I was sending it on a fool’s errand.

Sighing, I allowed myself to remember every detail of the pen. Its heavy weight in my hand, how it would flow too much if I tipped it at a certain angle. The deep, rich royal blue, which always made me smile— royal for my royal, I’d joked to myself a hundred times—Thaddeus’ penmanship scrolling across the page as the ink stained the parchment.

My power pulsed and moved toward something with purpose, no longer blindly searching. Once it arrived, it tugged at me, like someone pulling at a small thread to gain my attention.

The study? I asked.

A tug.

But we’ve looked everywhere in there.

It tugged harder, and the thread of power pulsed, insisting.

Leaving my notes, I followed the faint thread to the study where it had anchored itself. I entered the room and put my hand up, feeling for it. The tug brought me to the large couch I’d shied away from that first day, the image of my parents’ deaths still too fresh in my mind. Skipping that detail, I continued to narrow it down.

Understanding where it wanted me to search, I looked at the throw rug beneath the couch, dubious. Feeling like a fool, I relented, lowering down onto my stomach. My eyes surveyed the shadowed underbelly of the sofa, finding nothing.

I checked in with what I felt rather than what I saw.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I murmured to myself .

The tug pulled tight as if to say, Nope, I don’t kid .

“You better be right about this,” I said, unsheathing my dagger.

Repositioning my body, my fingers looked for the edges of the fabric on the underside of the couch. Finding what I’d been blindly feeling for, I cut a slit just wide enough for my hand to slide through and felt around, coming up empty.

Needing to readjust myself so I could reach in further, I pulled down slightly on the fabric. Something moved, and a cool cylindrical form hit my hand.

Palming the object, I freed my hand from the slit and saw the familiar royal-blue pen.

“I did it!” I exclaimed to the empty room. “ We did it,” I amended, realizing that, had it not been for my powers, this pen would never have been found.

My first theory had worked.

Jubilation and hope raced through me as I returned to the training room, readying to try the next one.

To no avail, I’d tried to conjure the vase of flowers from an adjacent room to join me. I could sense my magic wrapping around it, but no matter what I tried, how hard I pressed, it didn’t work.

Eventually, I yielded to defeat, tired from the day’s efforts. It always surprised me how much more magic took out of me than physical training ever had.

Laying in the center of the room, I stared at the ceiling, taking in the small arches spanning across it from all six corners. They converged as one in an intricate pattern above me, and I idly pondered if that beautiful detail was what fortified this room.

I conjured glistening embers and freed them from gravity’s grasp, wanting to see for myself. They fluttered upward, unhurried, and as they reached the converging peaks, they were absorbed into the crisscrossed beams themselves. Interestingly, it worked the same as the pillars at the training facility, only these features were more delicate. I wondered if this room could handle the same amount of power as the training facility, or if that was why the pillars were unnecessarily large for the partial roof it held up.

“There you are,” Thaddeus said as his footsteps softly padded toward me. I tilted my head in his direction and gave him a smile.

He took me in, then looked up as if to try to understand what I was staring at, then returned his gaze to mine with a raised brow, evidently gaining no clarity on what I was fixated on moments before.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said. “Why are you in here?”

“Practicing,” I said simply, not wanting to divulge what I’d been up to until I had something more substantive to show. “No luck today?” I asked, already knowing the answer, his lack of triumph having given it away.

“No, not today.” His words were calm but tight.

Staying where I was, I reached into my pocket. “I found your pen,” I said, handing it to him.

A brightness entered his eyes as he plucked it from my hand. “So you did!” His fingers traced its details, and a wistful look filled his eyes. “It was my father’s.” His voice was low, barely a whisper.

Propping myself up on my elbows, I watched as he got lost in a memory. He’d never mentioned it was his father’s pen before—in fact, we’d almost never discussed his family. Then again, we never really discussed mine either.

I held out a hand, inviting him to join me. A half-smile tugged at the corner of his lips before he pocketed the pen, then knelt between my legs.

Bunching the fabric of his shirt in my hand, I pulled him toward me. He braced himself on either side of me and obliged my silent request. Holding his gaze, I lifted a fraction and kissed him. The connection was tentative, questioning, assessing, wanting to suss out the truth of last night’s fleeting kiss, feel what intimacy remained between the two of us. Understand where we truly stood.

Seeing the vulnerability on his face, the admission that it was his father’s pen made me ache to reconnect with him, have him close to me.

The way he kissed me back was equally tentative, as if he was trying to discern the same truths for himself.

Evidently finding what he was looking for, he leaned into me, pressing me down off my elbows, and deepening our kiss as he transferred more of his weight onto me. I slid my fingers under his shirt, running them up his torso, over the curves I knew oh so well. He shuddered at the touch and tilted his readiness against me. I let out a soft moan, and he took my bottom lip between his teeth, tugging softly.

Shifting his weight, his freed hand found its way under my skirt and traced its way up to my inner thigh. A guttural sound of approval slipped from him into my ear as he found warm readiness for him on the other side of my undergarment. He sucked in the flesh on my neck, and I bit my lip as he made taunting passes across that part of me that craved friction.

Breathing heavily, I blindly traced his pant line and unbuttoned it.

“Hey, Thaddeus, did you get lost? We’ve been wait—” Tarrin’s voice trailed off as Thaddeus and I froze in place, his hand halted where, a breath before, it had been poised to plunge into me. Blushing, I looked away, not wanting to see Tarrin’s face. “I…umm… By the stars, you two, really?”

Thaddeus lifted his mouth off my skin just enough to address Tarrin. “We’ll join you in a minute.” His deep, calm words tickled my neck, and seconds later, the door clicked closed.

Thaddeus bit down where his lips hovered, and he pressed the flat of his palm against my center and held it there. “We’ll finish this later,” he rumbled. A sound escaped me that was half moan, half plea, and his palm slid up and down in a wicked promise, almost making that same sound slip out of me again.

He kissed me, then shifted some of his weight off, pulling away his teasing hand .

“Damn it.” I sighed.

Thaddeus chuckled as he lifted himself from me, and I instantly missed his weighted warmth—and deft hand.

As I stood, he tucked my stray hair behind my ears. “Let’s go eat.”

Food wasn’t what I was hungry for, and Thaddeus gave me a knowing smile as he pressed his hardness into me once more and nipped at my earlobe, letting me know he wasn’t happy about it either.

I moaned in protest, and his chuckle caressed my neck, but with great self-control, we went to dinner.

Morning came, and I found myself half draped over Thaddeus as he held me in close. The deep scent of him was familiar, and I’d sorely missed it the last couple of days. He rested his chin atop my head and lazily stroked my arm with long, light movements. Nestled in his shoulder’s nook, I idly traced the curves of his chest, lost in thought about our conversation at dinner.

They’d been unsuccessful in breaking through the barrier between realms but found a way to see it, which was something. Nevander hadn’t seemed to think it was much, but Thaddeus reminded him that progress, no matter how small, was still progress. It was the first time I’d seen Nevander in almost a week, and he seemed more reticent than usual, bordering on brooding impatience, which was out of character for him. If anything, he typically leaned toward stoic.

“Is Nevander okay?” I ventured.

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t seem himself—or he didn’t last night, and he hasn’t been around lately.” Thaddeus shifted, and I tilted my head to meet his gaze.

A small, lazy smile met me. “It’s sweet, your concern for them.” He kissed my forehead. “Nevander has been away on my order. He’s looking for other ways into the fae realm. I think the barriers work like a portal, and we’re not sure if it’s specific portals we can’t use, or if humans in general are unable to cross over. He’s been searching for the past week or so and has come back empty-handed. It wears on him, that’s all.” His voice gave no indication as to how he personally felt about any of it.

I could understand Nevander feeling distant, frustrated, even. At least I’d been able to hold on to the tiny victories. If I didn’t afford myself that grace, I’d surely feel the same, possibly worse, over the near inconsequential progress I’d made with the spark. A myriad of emotions flooded me as I realized just how little I’d progressed and replayed Thaddeus’ words— progress is progress . I supposed when you’d had all the time in the world, over five centuries and counting, the small things would add up. But I didn’t have that luxury; none of us did anymore.

I’d never let myself think too far into the future. Processing my past, and what was happening now, was overwhelming as is. Yet, for whatever reason, my thoughts wandered into dangerous territory—into the future. What would happen to Thaddeus when my finite life span caught up to me? Would I be a mere blip to him, a distant memory after Father Death shepherded me away? Ideally, I would die of old age, but on my current trajectory, I doubted I’d be afforded such a luxury. I realized then that death didn’t scare me—or not my death, anyway. I was afraid of others dying, of the possible war and genocide that had been discussed all too casually.

“If we found the magical object,” I said, “and it could wield world-shattering powers, would you truly rid our planet of the fae?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

I sat up, taking him in, seeking the truth of his words, and I found it in his uncompromising expression.

“And you could live with yourself after?”

“Yes.”

“How can you reconcile that when not all fae are our enemies?”

“I cannot afford to think that way, to sort out the good from the bad is an impossible task. To me, it’s very simple. The fae have shown they wouldn’t hesitate to do the same. If it weren’t for my father’s sacrifice, for my abilities, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. It comes down to them or us. And when those are the only options, Nyleeria, I choose us—I’ll always choose us. That might make me a monster to some, but I’m okay with that. I can shoulder that burden, knowing my people will continue to exist. So, no, I don’t let myself think that way. And you’re right; some good fae will die, but that’s the cost of war. Of survival. I won’t apologize for defending my people—I’ll never apologize for that.”

“Thank you,” I offered and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

He tilted his head. “For what?”

“For letting me in, trusting me with your truth. You’re a good man, Thaddeus, stuck in an impossible situation.”

He winced, the movement so faint that had I not known him as well as I did, I wouldn’t have noticed it. “I’m not sure that’s true, Nyleeria.” A shadow seemed to fall over him, and Tarrin’s voice rang in my mind: He’s had to do things that mark a man’s soul, we all have. Not out of choice but necessity. I leaned over and placed my lips upon his, hoping to wash away even a fraction of the stain he felt on his soul.

“You’ve been a good man to me,” I said, not knowing how to reach him, how to help him in that moment. He’d had to carry ancient burdens longer than anyone should have to.

He pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me. We lay there for a while, and I idly traced circles across his soft, tanned skin as I processed what had been said.

“Nyleeria?” he said, breaking the silence. My name on his lips was almost pained. I stilled, no longer exploring, as I listened to his heartbeat. I made to face him, but his grip tightened, holding me in place.

My own heart pounded against its confines, and a prickle of dread infected me, my fingers going numb. I knew what the tone meant, knew where this conversation was going. I held my breath, bracing myself for his next words.

“I want to tap into your powers again to find the magical object and the portal closest to it.” Thaddeus’ tone was neither questioning nor commanding, but neutral, as if he’d given voice to a thought that had repeated itself so many times in his head, it had lost the ability to evoke emotion.

I lay there still, my mind taking me back to the last time we tried. I forced myself to come back to the present moment.

“When?” I croaked.

He hesitated, and I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing what he’d say before he voiced it. “Today.”

Despite myself, my hands trembled. Feeling it, he gently wrapped them in his. I went to answer but couldn’t—fear crippling me.

He released my hands and tilted my chin up to face him, and silent tears slid down my cheeks. He let them roll over his sturdy fingers, which still held my chin. His gaze was pleading, broken. “I don’t know what else to do, Nyleeria.”

The truth was, I didn’t either. Not wanting to buckle under the weight of his petitioning gaze, I closed my eyes. A few more tears slipped out as I took a shallow, shaky breath.

I thought of Cassy and Leighton. My parents. Amos. Gods, even Eithan and Mrs. E would be caught in the crossfire should the fae get their hands on an object of such power.

Not trusting myself to speak, I opened my eyes and nodded once.

He caressed my cheek, seeing the pain and fear in my eyes, then rested his forehead against mine.

“Thank you,” he breathed.