meant he could be a part of my life, but could he be talking about… My mind immediately starts playing images of the three of us together again, in a position much like this. Tor kissing my breasts and Vaeril pressed against my back, his hand snaking around my hip and between my legs, seeking out my aching—wait. These aren’t my thoughts.
Glaring at a grinning Tor, I pull away from both of them, suddenly aware of our audience. I push back the stray strands of hair that have fallen into my face. He needs to learn to control his side of the bond, quickly, I grouch internally, although I have to admit, the fact he was able to send me an image I believed was my own shows that he has good control already. Perhaps he just doesn’t want to control it, I muse, trying to put a bit of space between us. With the bond still so new and raw, he makes me flustered.
When I walk to the edge of the ring, Naril smirks at me, and I expect him to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, his brother strolls over to me. Stopping just in front of me, he crosses his arms and stares down at me. The brothers may be twins, but years of training and fighting have given Eldrin a soldier’s body, and his wild, mane-like golden hair and matching catlike eyes give him a feral appearance, whereas Naril is always groomed and impeccable, ever the court lord. The brutal scars on his neck and across his face do nothing to take away from the vicious vibe that Eldrin gives off.
“You remembered some of your training,” he states, and I have to fight a smile as I look up at him, his expression stoic as he continues to stare down at me. This is the closest I will ever come to praise from Eldrin, and I wouldn’t expect any different. Nodding my head, I cross my arms over my chest in a mirror of his posture as Chief Arne walks over to join us. Eldrin shifts his weight and dips his head slightly in respect to the chief before turning his attention back to me, a frown tugging at his brow. “You were able to access your fae abilities. How?”
Ah, that’s what’s bugging him. Back in Galandell, we had been working on trying to unlock my fae skills, but without much success. Everyone’s attention falls on me, suddenly interested in the answer. I feel a little uncomfortable discussing this with so many unknown people around, my gaze darting over all the unfamiliar faces.
“Leave us,” Chief Arne calls, his voice loud and leaving no room for argument. There are several grumbles, but the tribespeople start to clear out and return to their jobs. The training ring is a flat area that’s been carved out of the mountain not too far from the meeting place. There are several tents set up nearby, and the main path passes it, so there is the occasional onlooker, but soon enough, it’s quiet and I’m left with only my friends and Chief Arne. Tor and Vaeril use the opportunity to come closer, but they make sure to give me some space while I’m still trying to settle from earlier, although their eyes never leave me for long.
Now that the area is clear and quiet, I smile gratefully at the chief before taking a deep breath as I try to put what happened into words. “I’m not sure, something seemed to…shift when I concentrated on it.” I’m not certain anything I’m saying makes any sense, but Tor’s wearing an odd expression.
“Shift?” His eyes move from me to Chief Arne. “Could that have to do with the magic that’s containing her memories? Could the magic be enclosing other abilities also?”
This isn’t the first time there’s been mention of a block on my memories. I hadn’t realised the chief was aware of it too, but from his thoughtful expression, this obviously isn’t news to him. I’m not quite sure how I feel about the fact that other people know more about my past than I do, that they know about this…block of mine, yet I still know so little about it. It makes me feel like…like it’s a failing of mine. How is it possible not to remember my past? Before, when I was a slave, I just lived in a state of numbness. I did what I needed to survive. But now that my