Blood Song (Blood Wars Trilogy Book 2) by T. A. Miles

Author:T. A. Miles [Miles, T. A.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Raventide Books
Published: 2013-12-22T05:00:00+00:00

PROJECTING ALLURANCE CONSCIOUSLY required Korsten to consider instances where he’d done so unconsciously. He thought about the way individuals in the past had been drawn to him, about how he was able to capture attention when he spoke to groups of individuals or performed in some way before them. He thought about what he and Ecland had done to each other, their talents overlapping and coiling about one another as they physically mirrored the movement of magic between them. It was easier with contact, he thought to himself. Skin contact, eye contact … even a verbal connection as the sound of his voice touched the ears of his audience. It was easier with people, he wanted to conclude, but then he realized that it wasn’t always people that he had charmed. Markam, possibly Bael—enough that the demon may have felt the need to deny it—and even Renmyr….

Demons were drawn to him, because his blood called to them. With his talent that still lay dormant and which he suspected had been threatening to Emerge since Lilende, it could also sing to them. Song was a talent he was unsure of and consequentially, one he tried not to think of overly much. Thoughts of it would lead to consideration of the Siren spell … one that few had access to—no one else at the Seminary currently. The writings on it were sparse and vague. His predecessor, Adrea, had mastered the spell, Ashwin told him. If only he could master the tone and the message of Allurance—let alone the Siren spell—and not be taken in by his own song. He came to the cusp of revelation with that thought, but turned away from it, toward the moment at hand. The demons were drawn to him, but they had to be overcome with the need to follow that lure. He couldn’t risk the Vadryn scheming along the way, as they evidently had the ability to do. His and Merran’s success in this moment relied on the demons’ inability to respond outside of what Korsten encouraged them to do. There was no room for error … and no room for trepidation.

He knew instinctively what needed to be done. He could feel the right—even the natural—course of action to take. A part of him was rallied to do it, pressing outward, waiting to be unleashed. He realized as he searched himself this way that it was fear holding him back. He was afraid to make that connection between himself and the enemy. Perhaps it was knowing that he’d done so once before, and that connection had been squandered through his own inaction, and ultimately used against him. It was as watching something valuable—something vital—float on the surface of a pool, taking on water, sinking slowly out of reach … and letting it do so with scarcely a thought except to lament the fact that it was getting away. He had refused to go into those waters, afraid of the depths, afraid of drowning though he was already being smothered by his own ignorance and by the enemy he refused to see.

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