She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stared at the wall, unnerved by his honesty.

He was right. She’d felt the power when it left her. Felt the echo of it come back when they made love. It wasn’t the dark shadow she’d felt in the past. The dark edge was still there, but it hadn’t hurt Malachi, so she knew it wasn’t inherently bad.

Could she use it to hurt?

Undoubtedly.

But she could also use it to heal. Her mate was in temporary pain, but his magic had been given a huge boost with the restoration of part of his talesm. The Old Language Orsala had taught her bent to her will, taking on her magic before she spoke it into life and power.

She had done this.

And she knew she could do it again.

Ya davarda, reshon.

It was a command. She’d told him to remember and he’d remembered.

How did Irina not become intoxicated by this power?

ORSALA examined Malachi’s arm, lifting it to search every inch of the talesm that had reappeared.

“And these are what you remember?”

“As much as I can remember, yes. They feel right. If that makes sense.”

“It does. These are your original marks. I can see the progression in expertise.” She touched the skin that had already healed at his wrist. “A young man’s marks here, for certain.” Her finger passed over his forearm and elbow as Ava watched anxiously from her chair in the library. Rhys sat next to Ava as Orsala inspected Malachi in the full light of the window. “And then as we go up the shoulder… Yes, an obvious progression. You could be rather dramatic when you were young, yes?” She smiled at him, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

A faint flush stained his cheeks. “I was not always the most rational when choosing my marks.”

Rhys said, “Still aren’t.”

“Shut up, Rhys.”

“I can see a hotheaded boy in this arm,” Orsala said, patting it. “But also the beginnings of a passionate, protective young man.”

“Thank you.”

Orsala turned to Ava, smiling. “You did this.”

“I did.”

Rhys nudged her arm, catching her eye with his mischievous smile. “And then they celebrated after. Loudly.”

Malachi sent his friend a smug smile as he pulled on a shirt. “Jealous.”

“Obviously.”

He crooked his head and Rhys abandoned his seat next to Ava to go lean on his desk.

Orsala said, “I’d caution you to go slowly. When you unleash that level of magic, you’re going to exhaust yourself. And each other.”

Rhys couldn’t smother the laugh.

Orsala narrowed her eyes at him, unable to hide her own smile. “While I’m sure some might find it amusing,” she said, “I’d warn you to take your time. And also accept that one spell might not continue to be effective in the same way. It may be that a simple command to remember no longer works at some point. But you’ve taken the first step. You’ve started to heal each other.”

Orsala reached down and took Ava’s hand. “You are more open, I can feel it.” She turned to Malachi and took his. “And you’ve regained some of your past. I can see your confidence returning. Your strength. I can feel…” She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, holding both their hands. “Your connection is almost tangible. I think your mating will be unlike anything our world has seen.”

“I concur,” Rhys said with a wistful smile.

“Be cautious,” Orsala warned. “I want to work with you, Ava. Far more than we have been. Mala’s physical training can wait for now. I do not think physical combat is your gift. I want to work on your magic.”

Ava felt Malachi nudging her knee with his own. “I know. I will.”

“And no holding back as you have been.”

“I already promised this guy,” Ava said, looking at her mate. “No holding back.”

“I’ll join you,” Malachi said. “If she needs to practice spells, I’ll be happy to help.”

Orsala said, “I’d prefer to do this in Vienna with Sari, but we’ll do what we can. When can you two go to the city?”

Ava exchanged a look with Malachi. “I need to get some information from my father before I go anywhere.”

“Why?”

Malachi frowned. “To find her origins, of course.”

Orsala looked at Rhys. “Isn’t that something you can do while she’s in Vienna?”

Rhys said, “I think Ava’s father is the only one who knows the truth. My searches have come up with nothing.”

“And my dad’s currently in the middle of his mid-tour binge,” Ava said. “He’s not really all that coherent most of the time. Is there such a thing as a magical truth serum?”

“We can work on that if you think it will help,” Orsala said. “But remember, truth is relative. He might tell you something he believes to be true, but there’s no guarantee that his own perceptions are accurate, particularly if he’s damaged his mind with drugs or alcohol.”

“I’ll take my chances. His memory has never been damaged, no matter how much he takes. Luis is right. How that man has managed to keep in perfect health is beyond me.”

“Really?” The old woman stepped back and frowned.

“As far as I know. The drinking and drugs seem to work for him.”

Orsala’s eyes had lost focus. “I wonder…”