Grounding the Storm ✓

Chapter 17

"Are you sure you're fine?" Silas asks.

I nod quickly. "My power is hard to control. Training can be frustrating." I try to smile at him but that's hard to do when I'm quelling a bloody nose.

"If you want, I can try to help you. Renit has his harsh ways of training but with my power, it might be easier for me to understand what the problem is." We begin walking, heading in the same direction as his brother. At least now we can't hear the stomping of his boots through the woods and the lack of care he has when snapping twigs.

As I wipe at my nose, I ask, "What's your power?"

"I can mirror every witch power."

I whirl to him, a bloody handkerchief halfway between my nose and my mouth. He looks at the bloody fabric, eyes searching over the handkerchief that was one clean, and he frowns. I'll have to buy him a new one or at least find one, there has to be a small piece of cloth stuffed somewhere in my chambers. There seems to be at least one of every other thing in there. "You're a witch of mirroring?"

He nods, his chin high. Proud. He should be proud of that power; although mine is rare, it's even rarer to come across a witch of mirroring. In the span of minutes, they can go through an unlimited amount of powers—if they don't drain themselves too quickly. The downside of the power is the effort and how quickly that reserve is drainable if he isn't careful. And for the prince to have that power...it's marveling.

"Proud to be. I'm still training to build up my stamina but I've never gotten the chance to be a witch of ground. Like most powers, I imagine it's hard to control."

"You don't have to console me," I say as sweetly as possible. Pushing him away is the worst thing I could do—if there's one ally for Celestine then that's one more than we had before. Silas is strong. Skilled. While his brother is lean with strength and coursed muscle, Silas is bulked with it.

Silas laughs under his breath. "I know my brother can be difficult. He wasn't always like that, I promise. But right now, with his power out of control and the engagement, his anger is spiraling. He doesn't hate you but he hates the idea of you. The glory of being a prince, not the future king, was his ability to choose. My father sprung the engagement on him because of convenience. They share the same hate but...nothing could prepare Renit for that."

"Is there anything I can do to make it better? I don't want him to hate me forever; if we wed, then we deserve a sliver of happiness in our lives." My nose has stopped bleeding so I fold the wet handkerchief into a square and stuff it into my pocket. Mani might faint when he sees the blood on my jacket and in my pants, currently soaking into the fabric. Although a witch can craft these clothes in a matter of hours, he stressed that keeping them clean was important, especially if I wanted to make a good impression against the castle servants.

That will not be the case now as the clothes are already dirty and with the worst substance—blood. How much scrubbing does it take to get blood out of clothes? Or is there a witch for that? I shrug, pushing the thought away.

"All you can do is avoid pushing him too far. Obey what he says, listen carefully, and don't try too hard to be his friend. He doesn't take kindly to new people but he'll come around and realize that you have no choice to be here. Maybe that will be the one thing you two have in common. You're stuck here." He grins at me sideways and I try to convey the same expression.

I am stuck here. As far as I know, the rest of my long immortal life will be in this castle—in these chambers. Even when I'm married to Renit, I'll still be in that room either sleeping in my bed or by the fire. There isn't a chance of me sleeping in the same bed with him, nor would he want me there. His hate for me is too strong and even after years of trying, it wouldn't surprise me to see that hate grow stronger.