LOREN
The Spark Bird took to the sky, so Loren assumed that Rexanna had figured out the trick of commanding it, not that there was much art to it. Still, it was good that his explanation had been sufficient; he was always surprised by how little people in the Hollowed Grounds seemed to know about his specific brand of magic. Then, it disappeared, and he glanced at the blue-eyed woman, wondering if it had been deliberate on her part or if she had somehow lost her focus or access to his energy. He decided not to say anything, since all the really mattered was that she knew how to bring it into the world. Control and expertise would come later.Or maybe not, given how poorly he had reacted to this experiment. Unless and until he could manage not to fall apart every time someone bit him, he didn’t want to force Rexanna or anyone else to witness his weakness and shame. Maybe that was silly—and maybe he’d never get better without forcing himself to confront it—but it was how he felt at that moment. He was still not quite able to meet Rexanna’s eyes after how he’d acted.
Thankfully, he grew at least a little more confident now that they had something to do. ”I’ll tell Wessex. I have to meet with her anyway.” The queen wanted a progress report on his efforts fortifying the Manor. Unfortunately, Loren was pretty sure he only had bad news for her. However, as Rexanna explained that Ascended could take magic they’d taken from others, Loren frowned. It was a tempting offer: he’d only need to expose his wounds to one person, or a few people.
It wasn’t the right solution to their problem, though, so he shook his head. ”Thank you for suggesting it. Sadly, I doubt we should go with that plan. It’s a good idea, but I don’t think we can afford to rely on specific people being around just to spare my feelings. Besides I...I need to get past this.” Just because he didn’t know how didn’t make that any less true. ”But thank you.” He was touched that she’d try to protect him, although he knew that he didn’t deserve such kindness, even from someone who professed to be his friend.
A beggar's book
outworths
a noble's blood
