The Curse of the Blessed

Chapter Five

I had never purposelessly summoned the deathbirds before. Twice they had come, summoned by my raging emotions, reeled in by my fear and their connection to me. Twice they had spoken through the connection. But there had never been a time when I'd spoken back.

"This might not work," I told Lark and Reed.

"We know," said Reed.

Lark grinned at me. "You've already said so four times. Why don't you just go for it? If it doesn't work... well, then, it doesn't work."

"I don't want to fail," I said. "I'm a part of this team. If I can't control my powers, I won't be able to pull my weight."

"There's nothing wrong with failure." She shrugged. "We'll be on the road for weeks; it's not like you won't have time to practice."

"But..." I hesitated, afraid to say the words out loud. "What if I can't do it?"

Reed's voice was firm, his smile nonexistent, but I saw a hint of kindness in his eyes. "Then we'll find another way. You're not the only one here with powers."

"Just go for it," Lark said. "No sense in dilly-dallying. It'll only give you more time to get in your own head about it."

"Okay."

I closed my eyes and tried to summon some level of fear, or whatever emotion had activated my powers before. I reached out with my mind as best I knew how. But nothing changed. No feathered consciousness brushed up against my own. I was alone and empty, my powers still stubbornly refusing to do a thing.

Aloud, I said, "It's not working, and I don't know how to fix it."

"I'll get my violin," said Lark. "Maybe I can use my magic to nudge yours awake."

The grass rustled as she stepped away.

"How are you calling to them?"

Bran's voice. From the sound of it, he was standing directly in front of me.

My eyes popped open, and I glared at him. "Why do you care?"

"Just tell me how you're doing it," he said.

"I'm trying to use my emotions. That's how it's always worked before. I'm scared or angry—usually thanks to you—and my magic sends out some sort of distress call."

"But you're not actually angry or scared right now."

"Not yet," I growled, "but if you keep talking, I might be."

He took a surreptitious step backward. "Hear me out. You're perfectly fine. You're not injured or scared. Instead of trying to scream for help, why don't you slowly cast your senses out and try to start a conversation?"

"A conversation? With birds?"

"How have you contacted them before?"

I frowned. "Fair point."

"So you'll try it?"

I closed my eyes. "Fine."

"You could try laying down," said Bran, "so all your concentration is centered on contacting the birds."

"Shut up."

"Okay."

A half-smile curled my lips at the small victory.

I slowly tried to push my awareness out from myself, searching for my birds, trying to send them a package of warm, welcoming emotions. My surroundings felt empty, or... almost so. There was a consciousness just beyond my grasp. I could already feel it fading, along with my strength. The magic was taking a toll.