A Trial of Sorcerers: Book One by Kova Elise

Author:Kova, Elise
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-949694-30-7
Publisher: Silver Wing Press
Published: 2021-03-04T00:00:00+00:00

15

“I—”

“Shh,” he whispered in her ear. Cullen pressed her face into his shoulder, as if shielding her from everything that might seek to harm her. “Just cry.”

“But—”

“Stop. Let it out.”

That was all the permission she needed. Eira pressed her face into his shoulder and sobbed. Cullen’s velvet-covered muscle muffled her cries. When she tried to pull away, he yanked her close once more, and the crying continued.

Eira had never shed so many tears in her life. It was as though she was trying to drown the world in her agony. She didn’t even know a person could cry so much. Perhaps it was just her magic manifesting her pain in a new way. If it couldn’t be ice, then it would be a never-ending river of tears.

After what could’ve been minutes or hours, Eira straightened. This time, Cullen didn’t pull her back. Somehow, he’d sensed she’d reached her limit.

Eira rubbed her face, sniffling. Cullen stood and crossed the room silently. He was no doubt ashamed for comforting someone like her. He was putting as much distance between her and him as possible. He would leave.

She concocted a number of terrible, self-deprecating fantasies as Cullen rummaged through the desk, not caring for whose it may be. He returned with a small kerchief and knelt once more before her, presenting his humble offering.

“Thank you,” Eira murmured, blowing her nose.

“Of course.” The way he said those words, he seemed to know she meant more than just the kerchief. “I’m…sorry.” Eira let out a bitter laugh. A noise that elicited a look of confusion from him.

“The Prince of the Tower, always so self-assured. I’ve never seen you look so…”

“Hopeless?” He ran a hand through his hair. “If you ever got to know me, you’d find out I can be incredibly hopeless.” Cullen sat and pulled his own knees to his chest, loosely situating them in his elbows. When he spoke, he didn’t look at her. “And that nickname, can you not call me that?”

“Prince of the Tower?”

“Yes. I hate it.”

“Why?”

Cullen turned to her with weary eyes. It was as though she was finally seeing through that perfect image he always exuded to something real. There was raw hurt and fierce determination smoldering within him. His clothing was disheveled. He was finally imperfect, messy, and everything that Eira knew her peers in the Tower would find unbecoming because they ruined the illusion of their perfect lord that had been lifted from the squalor they all lived in.

Yet, it was the first time she’d felt anything genuine toward him. In his world-weariness, he’d never looked more tragically beautiful.

“I honestly have no interest in being a prince, or a lord, or any other titles that came with my powers awakening and my father’s ambition.” This was the same Cullen Eira had heard the echo of in the Windwalkers’ study. “You’re not the only one with a messed-up family that has secrets stacked up to your hip, Eira. But at least yours loves you.”

“I’m sure yours—”

“Don’t presume anything about my family.

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