A Touch of Death

Chapter 29

"Why do we have to train even here?" Aoife whined, stretching out her shoulders.

"You can't let your training go lax, especially your magical training. You're too close to a breakthrough to stop now."

"I'd rather spend time trying to break your curse."

"And I would rather spend time making sure that you have the best training possible so that you can take care of yourself without fear." He sounded grumpy, but Aoife's heart warmed nonetheless. It was his way of showing he cared, though she wished he wouldn't act like he'd be gone so soon.

She just wished there was something she could do to spark the same desire to live in him that he had sparked in her. She wished... She wished he would stay.

With her.

For a long time.

Fighting back a sudden flush, Aoife rolled her shoulders and forced herself back to the present.

Unlike when they trained at the estate, Tarran wore full red robes with his hood pulled over his face. Aoife felt slightly uncomfortable doing magic training out in the courtyard like this, where anyone might see them, but Tarran insisted that it was a necessary part of keeping up appearances. Other Enchanters and their apprentices would continue their studies while at the palace, and Aoife should be no different.

Only... there didn't seem to be anyone else around. Whether it was from fear of her power or lack of curiosity, Aoife didn't know, but no one watched as they worked, which was just as well.

"We need to work on your magic studies today. I'm not dressed to work on combat, and I don't plan to remove my hood so we can train."

"Fine," Aoife said, resigning herself to working on magic for the day. In truth, she preferred combat training to magic work- there was much less potential for something to go horribly wrong.

"Stop that," Tarran instructed, but Aoife just blinked back at him.

"Stop... what?"

"Being afraid of yourself. You're too timid, especially here, where you're in unfamiliar surroundings and you don't know anyone. Trust your magic."

"How am I meant to trust it if all it ever does is the opposite of what I want?"

"What if your magic has a will of its own, hm? What if it thinks its giving you what you need?" Tarran suggested.

"Explain." Aoife waved her hand in a manner that meant "go on."

"The more afraid you are, the more likely it is that your magic will lash out and react. Thus, it's better to practice with someone you aren't afraid of." Tarran held out his bare hand towards her, looking expectant.

"I won't keep hurting you just to practice," Aoife said firmly.

"Then don't," he said simply, shrugging his shoulders.

"You make it sound as though it's easy."

"Perhaps it is. Do you fear me?" he asked quietly, still holding out his hand.

"No," she whispered, but didn't move.

"Do you trust me?"

Aoife paused, looking back and forth between his hand and his face. "Against my better judgment," she mumbled. The tiniest hint of a smile pulled at the edge of Tarran's lips.

"Take my hand, Aoife. Trust yourself."

She reached out slowly, gingerly. Drew her hand back.

Reached out again. Drew back.