Free The Midnight Sea (The Fourth Element #1) by Kat Ross Page B

cursed and lunged forward, grabbing my arm. My legs kicked over empty air. And just like that I was back to the icy ledge, a terrified child of twelve, except that this time, it was me who was about to plunge into the abyss.
    He grunted with effort, hauling me up. The spell broke and I realized I’d just done it again. He could have lifted me with air as easily as a kitten, but I was gripping his power tight.
    Darius shook his head. He laughed again, although this time it was more darkly amused than angry. I put my head in my hands.
    “A fine pair we—” he started to say.
    And the edge of the roof just gave way. The wood must have been old and rotten. I suppose the satrap had decided that they were only daēvas and didn’t need decent housing.
    I didn’t fall, but Darius did. Three stories to the stone courtyard. The pain of the impact took my breath away.
    I scrambled down the ladder as fast as I could and ran to him. I knew without even looking that he was terribly hurt.
    “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I whispered. Blood ran in a thin trickle from the corner of his mouth. His blue eyes were clouded. I took his hand. It was the first time I had ever touched his bare skin. It was warm. But such a strange sensation. I could feel the contact through him as well, like looking at my own reflection in a hall of mirrors.
    “Nazafareen,” he whispered. “You don’t…”
    He never finished what he was going to say because shock set in. Darius’s head rolled to the side and his eyes slipped shut.
    Holy Father, please don’t let him die…
    I screamed for help and Tommas came limping out the door of the barracks, golden hair tousled from sleep, wearing only a pair of pants. Normally, I would have enjoyed the sight of him half-naked, Druj or not. But the only thing filling my mind at that moment was Darius.
    “Run and get the magus as fast as you can,” I said. “I think his back is broken.”

Chapter Eight
    “ I ’d like to see him,” I said, folding my hands primly in my lap.
    “Why?” The magus gave me a hard stare. He’d aged in the four years I’d known him. His brown hair was now streaked with grey and faint lines creased the corners of his mouth. That’s what happened when a person was no longer bonded. I still didn’t know why he hadn’t taken another daēva, or how the first one had died, and I doubted he would ever tell me.
    “Because I have a block, and the only way I can break through it is by practicing with Darius,” I said. “I told you about it, remember?”
    He grunted. “One hour a day. After evening chores.”
    “Thank you.” I jumped to my feet and was almost at the door when the magus spoke.
    “You feel his emotions very strongly, don’t you?”
    I froze. “Sometimes.”
    “Not all do. Some feel nothing at all, only the power. It’s easier for them to maintain the necessary detachment. But your gift is strong. So is his. Mind what you do with it.”
    “Yes, magus.”
    I felt his eyes on my back as I walked out the door. On the way to the stables, I wondered if the magus had been one of those like me. I had a feeling he was, that he had been very close to his daēva. That he was still in mourning.
    For the next hour, I helped Tommas muck out the stalls. Neither of us spoke much. I knew Tommas was in mourning too, for Abraxas. Ilyas had quickly reverted to usual self—cold and condescending—but Tommas never seemed to mind. His patience with Ilyas seemed boundless. I decided I would probably never understand the two of them.
    And it didn’t matter, because I had a hard enough time figuring out my own daēva.
    He had to have known I was coming, but he still frowned when he saw me. Dark shadows made his eyes an even more vivid blue. It had been three days since the fall, three days since his spine had shattered, and yet he was half sitting up, propped on a mound of pillows.
    “Nazafareen. What are you doing here?”
    “I have permission,” I said quickly.
    “That’s not