LUCA

A week ago, I had died. I still couldn’t believe it. There wouldn’t be many people who could claim that their life force had left their body for a whole twelve hours, only for their magic to awaken and drag them right back.

Actually, the chances of that were probably below zero.

The rest period had spanned longer than what I’d been promised, but I wasn’t bitter about it—maybe a little. I’d spent those seven days confined to the bed, allowing my body the chance to recuperate as I read up on what it meant to be a mage and even memorizing some spells. It kept my mind somewhat busy, my curiosity preventing a slow descent into madness. Though I supposed I should be grateful I even had the luxury of napping and reading—if I’d been dead a day or so longer, I might have woken up in the middle of a battle.

Cair had admitted to his impulsive war cry after a bit of probing. He’d wanted revenge for what the king had done. The thought had consumed his entire being, and I couldn’t blame him. I would have reacted the same way—still kinda had that itch, I wouldn’t lie—but thankfully, Zadok had possessed enough presence of mind to send what he’d called “mirror crystals” with Cee and Gary. They were enchanted glass shards that could be used to communicate over long distance. He’d prepared for the possibility of anything happening on the road that Cair needed to be updated on. Once I’d woken up, it had been a simple task for him to make contact and instruct them to return. Of course, I was glad we’d avoided complete desolation and senseless bloodshed, that was the number one priority in any circumstance, but all I could think about was how long I’d been in the Otherworld without knowing Fae phones existed.

What the actual hell?

I’d asked Zadok if he had any more lying around, and if he would miss them should they suddenly disappear from his stores. For no reason whatsoever.

He had visited me often, my dad—I wasn’t yet at the stage where it felt right to speak the moniker aloud—but with the way he would keep his distance, almost scared to approach, it never felt like a good time to ask him more about his past. He would bring me scrolls, and go off on tangents about certain spells and their properties, though he’d stopped giving me any materials with detailed performance instructions. That was only after he’d caught me in the middle of trying to light a candle with a chant and a wrist-flick. I’d almost set the bedding on fire. No, I had set it on fire, so he’d taken those privileges away before my mate strung him up for being my enabler. “Until you heal,” he’d kept saying; Cair’s words repeated in a different tone. I understood their concerns, I really did, but I was eager to learn and harness this magic that had been latent inside me all of my life. I had been in bed for seven days, stewing in intrigue and boredom.