The Rose & the Dagger (The Wrath and the Dawn #2) - Renee Ahdieh Page 0,42

life whenever her skin came in contact with the carpet.

But she couldn’t. It was impossible.

Like grasping for the stars.

She’d tried now for two consecutive nights. The only conclusion she could come to was this: her power did not arise from within her. Instead, she absorbed it from things around her.

When she’d first offered this suggestion to Artan, he’d laughed, his head thrown back and his mouth a fathomless chasm. Then he’d proceeded to attack her with a controlled volley of fire. He’d wanted her to—at the very least—defend herself.

Artan wanted her to toss aside spinning balls of fire. Or move other objects into their path to repel them.

With naught but the wish to do so.

It had been her turn to laugh, head thrown back in equally exaggerated fashion.

Artan believed that, if she were pressed by the thought of immediate danger, perhaps her body would react on instinct. So, for the past two nights, they’d been confined to the beach. He’d begun by threatening her with small, slowly swirling circles of flame. Shahrzad had run from them in a near panic. Indifferent, Artan had proceeded to actual churning spheres of death—which were decidedly harder to avoid.

All Shahrzad had to show for it were multiple bruises from the many times she’d thrown herself into the sand.

All Artan had to show for it was mounting frustration.

“You’re a terrible teacher,” Shahrzad cried. “This method was flawed from the beginning!” She neared the lapping waves, slowing her strides.

“If you’re suggesting I’m flawed, then you’re correct.”

Stopping in her paces, Shahrzad leaned forward, gasping for breath. “Lesson concluded for the evening.”

“Not quite.”

She turned around, more than a little unsettled by his tone.

Sure enough, Artan began firing another series of shots directly at her. Orb after orb of rolling flames flew from his outstretched palms.

Shahrzad panicked. There was no way she could dodge them all.

“Don’t run,” Artan shouted. “Make them run from you. Make me believe I’m not taking a sheep to be sheared by wolves when I take you to my aunt!”

“I can’t,” she shrieked, aghast at the number of fire spheres spinning toward her. Not knowing what else to do, Shahrzad made a dash for the water and dove beneath the waves. She held her breath for as long as she could, treading beneath the churning surf. Then she kicked for the surface and emerged in waist-deep water, sputtering for air—

“Shahrzad!”

She peeled back a curtain of hair just in time to see a final ball of fire spin toward her.

There was no time to react.

It crashed against her, burning through her qamis and into her stomach.

For a moment, there was nothing but shock.

From the shoreline, Shahrzad heard Artan shouting in a strange language. The ball of fire turned back on itself and disappeared in a feather of smoke.

She couldn’t even manage to scream. Around her, the smell of burning flesh mingled on the sea breeze. Her knees started to tremble as a wave collided against her.

The salt water on her bare skin stunned her back into feeling.

Into agony.

Shahrzad fell toward the sea, a cry caught on her lips.

“Idiot.” Artan gathered her in his arms and dragged her from the foaming surf back onto the shore. “Absolute fool,” he muttered.

The shaking spread from her legs into her arms. Her teeth began to chatter.

“It’s—it’s on f-f-fire.” Shahrzad dug her fingers into his wrist. “My—my skin. It’s—it’s . . .”

Kneeling along the shore, Artan pushed her back against the hard sand. “Complete moron.”

“S-s-stop. I c-couldn’t—”

“I’m not talking about you!” Without another word, Artan stripped back the scorched bits of linen around her stomach.

That time, Shahrzad managed a scream.

“Shut up, shut up!” Artan tugged at an earring, his expression pained. “Lie still, and I’ll fix it. I swear I’ll fix it.”

Though his words were wrong, his face was strangely right. His jaw was fixed. The diagonal scar through his lip, white. He pressed both hands to her shoulders in an attempt to steady her quaking. A jolt blazed through her.

The dark centers of Artan’s eyes spread, like a drop of ink through water. His hands moved from her shoulders to hover above her stomach.

From the tips of his fingers bloomed an unsteady light.

But it wasn’t a warm light.

Something viciously cold tugged at her center. Tugged through her skin. A tremor rolled down her spine, as though the very air around them was prickly and alive.

The ink in Artan’s eyes began to change color. Began to brighten to a stormy grey.

He swallowed a cry of pain. Then fell back onto his