Page 88 of A Thief to Die For

‘And now you’re worried because … he wasn’t wrong about the magic.’

Suspicion settles over me. ‘Did he tell you about it? Before the wedding?’

‘No.’

Her words resonate in me in some inexplicable way, letting me know they’re true. More proof of the connection tying us together.

‘You know I’ve felt it a few times already,’ she says. ‘It’s so interesting to sense when you’re angry. And feel it right here.’ She brushes her fingers down her sternum. ‘I think when we kissed, I even felt that you’re injured. Is that right? On your lower back? There’s a cut?’ She stops to stand before me.

I stiffen.

She huffs a laugh in amazement. ‘Even that. I felt your hesitation. Just for a second. It burns … here.’ Her finger drags down my stomach.

I stop her hand. The touch intensifies the line of communication between us, and I’m acutely aware of her attraction to me. I can practically taste her longing on my tongue.

It’s so bittersweet to experience this. To finally be here, encountering the connection … and simultaneously wishing I wasn’t. ‘You’re right. I am worried. Your father –’ My eyes skate to her face. ‘Are you going to tell him what you learn about me? About my … magic?’

Her hand drops. ‘I don’t see why I would. He’s never really cared about me. Could barely tolerate me, which is all I’ve ever wanted. To matter. I know he’s hoping to use me against you, but I won’t do it. Not when … I now have you.’

Her words vibrate inside me with a sense of rightness. Another truth.

‘So, will you tell me how it works?’ she asks.

I’ve run out of reasons not to. There’s no changing this course. ‘It’s a long story.’

She takes a seat on the edge of the bed. ‘I have time.’

Apparently, so do I. I lower myself down beside her, jaw clenching over and over. ‘It started years after the bombs fell …’ I begin, and somehow I get through telling her about the founding families of Kingsland and how the connection first appeared, spreading down the family lines.

My explanation isn’t anything like what I gave to Marian. I keep it vague. Agatha needs to know the basics. Yes, we’re sensing each other’s emotions, and eventually, if we open up to each other, we could share more – like injuries and memories. ‘You’ll also notice that we can’t use the connection if we’re too far from each other, more than few dozen feet.’ But I stop there, unable to elaborate more.

‘How do I heal you?’ she asks, after I’ve gone quiet, lost in my head. ‘Ryland’ – she stands – ‘you’re injured. Why wouldn’t we do that now?’

Because I would have to let you in.

And my heart is already full.

‘Let’s just try it,’ she urges.

‘No. We’d have to be more connected and …’

‘Closer?’ She stands from the bed and takes an unsure step in my direction. ‘Do we need to touch?’ Suddenly, she steps between my legs. There’s a shake to her fingers as they slide through my hair. ‘I’m okay with that. I want to touch you. Actually …’ Her head dips nervously. ‘If I’m honest, I think about it all the time.’

I peer up at her. ‘Agatha,’ I say, pained. ‘This is …’ Impossible. On some level she has to know – feel – the misery inside me. Is she just ignoring it?

‘You can’t,’ she says.

‘I can’t.’

With brisk movements, she closes her housecoat and backs away. ‘Can’t ever? Or can’t now?’

I feel her rejection. It tastes like bile. But I also get flickers of other emotions. Desperation. Hurt. Anger. And something else that claws at my gut – jealousy. I run a hand over my head. How much time would I need? Decades? Lifetimes?

Except, I’m not factoring in the connection. The way we’ll be drawn together, mind and body. One day, I will grow to love her … because she’s a part of me now.

But even without that, I’m forgetting what matters most: I’m a man of my word.

‘Can’t now. But in time … it won’t always be this way.’