My eyes widen as I stare at the man. "Says the person who didn't do anything," I accuse, placing my hands on my hips as I glare at him.

  He offers me a grin, creeping closer to me. Mischief swirls in his eyes before his smile widens. "Hmm, you seem a little pissed. I suppose now wouldn't be the time to ask if you're not really Roxanna Delamontee, but Princess Amelia Deightyn?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  "Yes."

  I don't want to continue lying to Brielyn, it's the only reason for why I tell him the truth or at least that's what I tell myself.

  His puppy dog eyes widen in shock and he takes a step back in shock. "Damn, I didn't expect for you to actually admit it," he says lowly, his eyes searching mine. A grin tries to form on his lips, but he pushes it back, as if not wanting to get so happy too soon. "I thought, but..." He shakes his head.

  I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "You can't tell anyone, Brielyn."

  His lips turn down slightly. "You think I don't know that?" he asks, a crease forming between his brows. "It was kind of implied. And you know that I won't say anything, right? I've kept what you've already told me to myself," he reminds me.

  I shake my head, "I know that, but it doesn't keep me from worrying," I tell him. "It's hard for me to trust others.

  He nods, sighing. "I know that." He pushes a hand through his hair as he studies me. His brown eyes seem to be taking me in a new light as he studies me and it's weird. It's almost as if he's no longer looking at Roxanna, but Amelia, which is impossible. Amelia died over a decade ago, forever trapped as a six year old girl. There's nothing left of her, not even a memory. The people who remember her are dead after all.

  "I can't believe I'm standing in front of royalty," he breathes out, placing a finger to his lips.

  I shake my head, refraining from rolling my eyes at the man. "You're around the Fawcetts every day,'' I tell him. I don't need to clarify that I'm grouping Elyjah, The Bae twins, and Walker all in as one.

  He shakes his head vigorously. "No, that's different," he tells me, blowing out a breath of air. "I know that they're royalty, the Fawcetts, the only active kingdom remaining in Caelumine, but..." He lets out a deep breath. "You, you're the last remaining descendant of the Deightyn kingdom." His eyes snap to mine. "You are the last survivor aren't you?" He cringes slightly. "Sorry, that came out wrong."

  I wave a hand even though there's a dull ache in my chest, one that I know will never go away when I think of my family. "I know what you mean. Yes, I'm the last one living." I take a gulp. "I'm the only one who made it out of the castle that night," I confess.

  Sadness fills his eyes, "I'm sorry."

  "What made you ask?" I question. I've always thought that Brielyn isn't observant, but he's proved me wrong multiple times in the last few days.

  He watches me, folding his arms over his chest. "If I'm being honest, the moment you told me your story, I started to wonder. I thought, wow, a servant's kid or someone else not exactly raging in royalty wouldn't be this upset about the burning of the Deightyn kingdom. I mean, yeah, they'd be mad that their parents were dead, but they'd likely lay low and never let anyone know they're still alive. Maybe they'd escape to the mortal realm, but they would surely stay there and not return to Caelumine."

  It makes sense, his words.

  “Plus, I thought of the way you’d act any time we talked about the Deightyn kingdom. There was always this passion in your voice that couldn't be ignored, this anger, you know. At first, I thought it was because you're typically angry at any given time, but pieces started adding up."

  I think back to the way that his face has changed to one of concentration moments ago when we were speaking. "What made you finally ask?"

  He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know, I kind of felt like it was finally time. Especially after you kept avoiding saying exactly who your parents were. It seemed like you were purposefully skipping over it. I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask. You'd either go for my head or tell me the truth." He gives me a mischievous grin. "I'm happy that you went with the second option though I expected there to be some slight denial on your part. I didn't think you'd just say yes."

  I pull my lips in together. "I didn't think about it," I admit. "I trust you and a part of me wanted to tell someone else. So now you understand why I can't just let this go. I'm the last remaining descendant of the Deightyns. I can't just let the death of the rest of the kingdom be in vain, I have to bring justice, I have to take it." Fire burns in my words and I feel the old feeling that I used to get when I'd think about how I would make the Fawcetts regret their actions. And yet, it still doesn't feel as strong as it used to, as purposeful.

  Brielyn shakes his head, orange strands flying. "I still agree with my earlier assessment that you need to reconsider all of this. I'm actually more for it now," he says moving in closer to me. "Think about it, Roxanna. Think about if the tables were turned. If your family killed all of the Fawcetts while you were six, would you want someone to come for you twelve years later demanding justice for sins that aren't yours."

  "The royals weren't six when this happened," I tell him with a clenched jaw. "They were teenagers, the same age as my sister, sixteen."

  He blinks at me for a moment as if tired of trying to get the point across to me. "But they still weren't in charge. What could they realistically change at that age? You know even more than I do about the politics of our nation since you were a princess. How much power does a prince or princess have before they take the crown as the queen or king?"

  His words ring true and I know the answer he wants and what it implies. "They have little to no power."

  He nods at the confirmation, "Exactly, they don't have any power, so how could you expect Elyjah to stop what his parents did. No matter his age, he was just the crown prince and his words are relatively powerless."

  It's true but it doesn't excuse what happened.

  "You're being really unfair, Roxanna," Brielyn continues, clenching his jaw.

  "I'm not being unreasonable, I'm being the vigilante that I have to be for my family," I spit out, my fingers flexing. "And I don't want to talk about this any further."

  The conversation took place yesterday and ever since there's been a slight tension between Brielyn and I. However, despite the tension not one part of me thinks that he will betray me, that he will tell the royals the truth.

  And that has to be what a true friend is right?

  My mind flashes to Ru. She was a true friend. If she were in Brielyn's place, she would have given me her opinion without apology and in the end, even if we disagreed, she would have had my back. It's the way our relationship always worked. With unconventional parental figures, we had to be there for each other unconditionally. Even though we were so different for so many reasons.

  What would Ru say at this moment? What advice would she give me?

  Fuck them, Roxy, and then kill them. It's just a casualty of war, nothing personal.

  That's what my friend would no doubt tell me, there's a reason her name is Ruthless, after all. Such a cold woman to only be a girl.

  Am I turning into that?

  Surely, I was already that woman, yet the fact that I don't want to actually kill the royals tells me all I need to know.

  I don't actually know who I am.

  "You're always thinking so hard about something and I'd like to know what it is."

  I turn my head sharply to find Orrael standing beside me. His blue eyes are watching me closely as if they can look into my head and find out what I'm thinking.

  I take a step back from him, glancing around the cave briefly. Walker and Elyjah headed out for food a couple of hours ago. Shortly afterwards, Orrtyn and Brielyn had gone out to train. It'd caught me off guard when Brielyn had asked that of the man, considering he isn't exactly the sharpest warrior, but a part of me knew he'd wanted to train. However, he’d also seemed to want some distance from me, so his options were limited. Now Orrael and I have been here on our own for a little under an hour, I believe. However, the last time I checked the man had gone out to the stream, saying something about water that I hadn't quite caught.

  "If you saw the things that were going on in my head, you'd run the other way," I tell Orrael after a couple of moments of silence.

  His lips curve into a grin, "Would I really?"

  You have no idea.

  "Absolutely."

  Silence falls between us and I shift from foot to foot, not quite sure what to say to the man. "How do you summon your powers?" I eventually ask.

  He raises a brow in surprise but the shock on his face quickly disappears. "Well, it's kind of hard to explain, but I suppose I could try, is there any particular reason you want to know?" His eyes are curious as he watches me.

  I hesitate for a moment before nodding. "I want to know if I can summon fire." I'd done it before, but it hasn't occurred anytime while on this island and I figured it must be because I have to actually put forth an effort unlike the last couple of times it occurs.

  Or maybe it was just a fluke and you need to accept that.

  Orrael nods, rubbing at his chin slightly, "Ah, yeah, you burned those guards and Delia," he says. He clears his throat slightly, rubbing at his jaw. "And Walker."

  I refrain from rolling my eyes, remembering the outrage of the big man. "It'd been an accident."

  Though if I knew how to control this shit, I'm sure I would have purposefully burned the man more than once at this point.

  "I know," Orrael says, no judgement in his voice. "I wanted to talk more to you about it, but I never knew how to approach the topic. I told you that we had to unlock our gift and it's true, there weren't any signs of it before we took the drink." His eyes glance down at my hands, trailing up my arms so intently that I feel a flush overtake my body. "But the fact that you have even been able to access slight bits of your gift without any help or prompting, it makes me wonder..." His words trail off.

  I study him, my eyes trailing across his clenched jaw before moving to his hands that look more than a little intense.

  What does it make you wonder?

  I want to ask the question but I'm afraid of the response that I'll get, I'm suspicious of it.

  He shakes his head slightly, his blonde hair flying a little. "Okay," he finally says and his eyes clear as his body relaxes. "I've never really tried to teach anyone about my gift or how it works, but I'll do my best," he reassures me. "If we go a bit that way, we'll be closer to the light." He points to a spot closer to the mouth of the cave where the sun is shining in, shrouding it in light.

  I refrain from reminding the man that we can both see fairly well in the dark, my mind going back to the conversation we had at the little nook, which makes me tense up a little.

  Caelorns shouldn’t have perfect night vision, that’s only something that caelestin, and some caelick, possess.

  Did he pay any attention to the little detail of my perfect vision in the dark the other day?

  I know without a doubt that he had to, the man doesn't miss any details after all. I glance at his back as he walks away from me. If he doesn't bring up the little tidbit of information then neither will I.

  Orrael stops walking and turns around to look at me, raising a brow. I move in closer to him.

  "Okay," he says softly, and I can tell from the slight crease between his brows that he is puzzled and trying to figure something out. After a moment, he nods to himself. "Like I said, I've never had to explain or teach anyone about my powers before so this will be a bit of a learning process for us both."

  I nod, silently watching him. I won't say it out loud, but I'm grateful for him actually even trying to help and to teach me, it's more than I expected.

  "I guess for starters, I should explain my gift a bit more," He says, and I can practically see his thoughts swirling as he tries to figure out the best way to do this. "I create portals, but not quite, they’re little tears, more or less."

  I don't tell him that I already know this.

  "When I teleport, there isn’t a visible portal that appears and it's only temporary. It lasts long enough for I, and whoever I have hold of, to teleport. So, saying a portal may be an easy way to say it, but it isn’t correct, and there’s so much that goes into the process,” he says, moving his hands in front of him slightly. "The way that I create them comes from two different ways." His eyes meet mine as if to make sure I’m actually paying attention. "You see, I can either imagine the place I want to teleport to, but I need to be accurate and sure of where I'm going. Or I can think of a particular person," he continues.

  I nod, finding myself leaning closer as I hang onto his words.

  "With people, I..." he shakes his head as if trying to find the right words. "I get familiar with their... energy." His eyes squint slightly. "I don't know if that's the right way to explain it, but it's the best word I can come up with at the moment. Which is kind of further of what I need to go into. The energy is almost like an aura."

  I watch as he pauses and points at me. "You see, even now as we're sitting here talking, I can see this... energy, this aura around you," he says and makes an outline around my body with the direction he sends his hands.

  My eyes widen slightly. "What does it look like?” I inquire, intrigued.

  He purses his lips slightly before running a finger across them as he thinks. The light from the cave plays along his golden hair. "I see you," he states plainly. "But I also see this bit of light around you. It's faint and I can call upon it whenever I want to. It isn't always there, just when I want it to be. The more I'm around people, the more familiar with that aura I become. See, yours has a tint of red to it, but also a lot of white and a little black."

  I tense up at that information. If this is like an aura that I'm familiar with, I'm sure red and black mean bad, the colors usually do after all.

  "How often do you check my energy?" I ask him.

  "Not often," he reassures me as he watches me closely as if to see how I feel about the information. Crinkles appear at the corner of his eyes briefly before disappearing.

  "It's not exactly a thing that I always mean to do. Sometimes it happens as a reflex when I first meet someone or when I'm not thinking about it. It's purely out of instinct. I don't do it often when there's a crowd because all the auras can start to blend together, and the sharp mix of colors and various shades of light will give me a headache."

  "And the colors... Do you know what they mean?" I ask him.

  He shakes his head, a remorseful look on his face. His shoulders sag slightly. "No, I've deduced some things from studying but I can't say that I exactly know the science behind it all. I've kept journals over the years and notes but it's something I'm still working on," he informs me. His lips are pulled together and his nostrils flair slightly.

  He’s disappointed that there’s something he can’t figure out.

  I take a small step closer to him. "And the things you have discovered, what are they? Even if they're not concrete, I'd like to know."

  He narrows his eyes slightly before nodding. "Well, I think that the brighter someone's energy, the more magic they possess and there's also the weight of the aura."

  I frown at that. The weight?

  "Usually the heavier someone's aura is, the older they are. And younger people tend to have a lighter aura."

  I try to wrap my head around what he could possibly mean by that but before I can think too hard on it, he's already moving on to something else.

  "The colors, I've picked up emotions from them, here and there. They usually tinge the aura's usual color, which is typically the way it is because of big events that occurred in someone's life or their personality." He waves a hand slightly. "But that isn't as important right now. The purpose of telling you this information is to explain how I use my power, how I make it work for me. You have a fire gift from what we've seen, so I'd like for you to try to visualize that gift in the same way I visualize a location or aura."

  I rub my lips together in contemplation as the man looks at me in encouragement. This is what I wanted, right? To learn if I can control my gift and call it at will, so why am I hesitating now that the opportunity is upon me.

  "Okay," I blow out a breath of air.

  Orrael nods, his eyes meeting mine and holding them. "Calm yourself down, relax some, and then try."

  I follow his directions letting the tension fall from my shoulders. I hold my hands out in front of me and close my eyes.

  "Imagine yourself holding fire in your hands," Brielyn's voice is soft and soothing as it penetrates my head.

  I nod, but don't open my eyes. I imagine myself standing exactly where I am in the hard, cold cave. Orrael is standing across from me with the light coming in behind him, making him look almost angelic. I imagine myself in my ripped clothing, my matted blonde hair, and fire in my hands. I make the flames small, dancing along my hands harmlessly.

  I keep my breath even as I wait but after a couple of minutes when it becomes obvious that nothing is happening, I open my eyes. Orrael is still standing exactly where he was when I last closed my eyes and there isn't judgment or anything other than encouragement in his eyes despite my obvious failure.

  I throw my hands up in frustration and open my mouth to start bitching.

  Before I can start, the man cuts me off. "It's okay, Roxanna, we just started working on this and that was your first try. Don't forget that we're both in unfamiliar waters here, you can't expect results to happen so quickly."

  No, I shouldn't expect it, but I still do, despite knowing that I shouldn't.

  "Like I said, maybe your gift has to be summoned in a different way than mine. Take my brother for instance, his gift for speed is purely physical, unlike mine, so it works differently for him. He runs as if he was just doing it normally and then he pushes himself to make himself run quicker, like the way you or I would, but a thousand times quicker."

  I understand what he’s saying but I still shake my head. "Yeah, but what is my fire gift? Physical or mental?"