Ghostlight (The Reflected City Book 1) by Rabia Gale (i can read with my eyes shut TXT) 📗

yes. My brother.” His hands clenched by his sides, the old wound aching once more. It would never completely heal; there would always be the scar and the occasional flash of pain to remind him it was there.

“I’m sorry.” Her compassion was deep and sincere. And she didn’t follow up with prying questions. She stood there, accepting the burden of his loss, offering nothing but sympathy, asking for nothing more than he was ready to give.

Trey went on, the words tumbling over themselves. “She wasn’t gifted… no, that’s all wrong, to talk of Celeste as if she were merely ordinary. She was gifted, but not with magic. She had the voice of an angel and a beauty that was hard to grasp.” He shook his head, unable to express with mere words what Celeste had been like. “And she carried within her a well of deep joy and warmth. My brother loved her and she him. He was a Shield and a darn good elementalist, so everyone thought she’d be safe. But they got to her during the Incursion, regardless, and through her to him. And so it ended, the way you saw.”

It was the first time he had spoken of this. The first time he’d told this sad tale to anyone in full.

Arabella made a gesture with her cupped hands, as if accepting the words. Accepting his trust.

“It’s not a mistake I care to repeat,” said Trey, kicking a pebble. It skittered across the courtyard.

“Do you really think,” she asked, “that your brother’s marriage was a mistake?”

He thought about it, really thought about it. After the Incursion, the shocked and sorrowful gifted had whispered words to the effect. She wasn’t strong and was thus targeted. Magic and mundane should not mix. Back then, he might’ve agreed. But now?

“No. They were happy together. Who am I to begrudge them that?”

Damien hadn’t. He had died with his wife in his arms, smiling as her tears mingled with his blood.

“You loved her.” It was not a question.

“She was my sister.”

“Not quite like that.” Arabella’s smile was knowing, but gentle. Perceptive once again, she’d seen something no else had ever known.

He found that he didn’t mind much at all. If someone had to glean it, he’d rather it was Arabella. “Maybe not. But I loved my brother far more and would never hurt him.” Trey folded his arms. “Any more questions, Miss Curious?”

The heavy sarcasm in his voice didn’t faze her one bit. “One more.” She blithely ignored his frown. “What incursion? Despite the troubles on the continent, Vaeland hasn’t been invaded since before I was born.”

Trey considered her expression of friendly curiosity. Then he sighed. She’d already experienced more of the Shadow Lands that most people, gifted or not, did. He’d let slip the word, so he might as well tell her, before she went ferreting out the information on her own and got all the wrong ideas.

“You know the Shadow Lands attempt to break into the mortal realms. Sometimes they succeed.”

Arabella shivered. “I thought the Guardians and the Regalia and the Vernal Rites prevented that.”

“They do. Mostly. But sometimes it’s not enough. Like the Great Incursion last year.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “What did you call it?”

“The Great Incursion. It’s a silly name, but—” He stopped.

Arabella wasn’t listening. Her eyes had gone wide. “I’ve heard the name before,” she breathed. “In Mr. Gibbs’s shop. When I went in, he was talking to someone in the back room and I heard them say the name. And-” She squeaked. “Trey!”

The portal snapped open so suddenly that Trey had no warning. It glared like a dragon’s eye and inhaled like a dragon’s maw. Tendrils of flame grabbed Arabella around the waist and arms. She cried out as they dragged her back, her hands reaching desperately out for him.

“Arabella!” He leapt forward, hands outstretched. Her ghostly fingers brushed his as the portal closed around her. The last thing he saw was her white face and her lips moving, saying, “Trey, it was miasma!” as the rent snapped shut.

Damn it! Trey could still feel her, on the other side of the boundary. He’d summon Sorrow and cut his way through to her—

He couldn’t lift his arm. His feet were frozen to the ground. Startled, Trey looked down. Chains of silver runes, each one precise and elegant and strong as iron, bound him fast.

Winter’s spellwork.

He couldn’t materialize Sorrow properly with the runes interfering. She misted into his hand, her edges blurred. He slashed down at the spell, runes crumpling under his blade, Sorrow gaining definition with every stroke. Yet still more chains spiraled around him, tethering him to the mortal plane.

Arabella was getting further and further away from him. “Winter, let go!” he ground out through clenched teeth.

The man himself stood at the edge of the courtyard, his arms raised in arcane gestures. His usually impeccable clothes were rumpled. Sweat sheened his face as Trey strained his spell to a breaking point.

There. The Shadow Lands were right there, within reach. Binding runes tightened around Trey, and Sorrow flared in response. They melted into quicksilver droplets, dissolving into the night.

Trey slashed a rip in the air, creating an opening. The Shadow Lands glimmered beyond it.

He could sense Arabella’s presence as a fast-fading trail of blue. He was almost there.

Sorrow misted, her light dying. The edges of the portal turned to sludge. The rip inched shut, bit by bit. More chains weighed him down, bindings dragged him away.

A rough-edged baritone rose up in a half-song, half-chant. The others were here. Trey recognized their magic before he even made out their forms. Morgan, Lee, even Sutton. All of them holding him back.

They couldn’t keep him indefinitely, but they didn’t have to.

Arabella was gone. That gleaming trail through the Shadow Lands disappeared.

A ghost like her, with no hunger or rage, would leave little trace.

Trey pushed back against the spellwork holding him. Winter’s chains slipped off as August dropped his arms tiredly. Morgan staggered and Sutton fell onto his