Free Minutes Before Sunset by Shannon A. Thompson Page A

the ground. Air filled my lungs, and I wheezed as she stood over me, brushing purple dust off her hands. She’d retaliated.
    “You only had to move, Shoman.” She used my words against me and winked.
    “How did you do that?” I asked, springing to my feet. I hadn’t even shown her how to create it. How did she know what to do? She was too accurate.
    She flipped her dark hair over her shoulder. “I watch and learn.”
    “You’re a natural,” I said, studying her. First, she avoided my radar, and now she was using Dark energy. What’d she have that others didn’t?
    Even though I’d be the strongest shade in less than a year, it took me weeks to learn a new power or spell. I couldn’t teach myself—especially from watching—yet she’d perfected her energy in one sitting.
    “Something’s wrong,” she said, wrinkling her brow. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
    “No,” I said. You only startled the first descendant. No big deal.
    “Then why are you so quiet?” she asked, lowering her tone, and I stepped forward, leaning out to rub her arm.
    “I’m fine,” I said, and she bit her lip. “Let’s take a break.” To distract you. “We can fly.”
    She lit up. “I actually wanted to show you something.”
    “Okay—”
    Her fingertips sparkled like a lake reflecting the stars, all silver and purple. When she swirled her hands back and forth, her nails shone, and her palms glittered, dipping in and out of the misty shadows. I’d never seen anything like it.
    “Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked as little droplets of energy fell from her hands and splashed across the grass like morning dew. The light never dissipated. Instead, it illuminated the grass, and I stepped back.
    “What is that?”
    It disappeared, and I caught her eye. She raised her brow. “I thought you could tell me.”
    I shook my head. Something wasn’t right with her powers. “Energy is only used for defense; that didn’t do anything.”
    “Why can’t you use it for other things?”
    I opened my mouth, but closed it when I realized I had no argument. “I’ve only been taught to use it for the war.”
    A slow smile pulled at her lips. “You can’t relax, can you, Shoman?”
    Not with you around.
    “You’ve been stiff all night,” she said. “Spill.”
    “It’s nothing.”
    “So there is something.”
    I rubbed my temples; she was relentless. “I wish I could tell you,” I said, mentally surrendering. I could feel my guard dropping around her, yet I couldn’t report her to the elders.
    “Why can’t you?” she asked.
    Because I’m the first descendant, you already know too much, and it’s my fault, because I stopped thinking. I’m not thinking.
    “Because I can’t,” I said, hoping she’d linger in silence, but she sighed.
    “I’m sorry if I was rude,” she said, sitting on the grass, small, purple lights waving around her. “I’m just worried about you.”
    My throat tightened. Worried? “I’m okay,” I said, sitting next to her.
    Her gaze shifted over my arm. “Then what’s with the bruises?”
    My hand shot up to cover Luthicer’s marks, but my clothes already did. I gaped at her. “How’d you see them?”
    She shrugged. “Your sleeve moved when we were walking earlier,” she said. “I see everything at night; it’s crazy.”
    I kept my face blank, but my heart was sinking. Her extreme senses weren’t supposed to develop until years of training. She was either lying to me, or something was severely wrong. I needed to report her.
    Could I turn her into the elders? I doubted it.
    “So—” She leaned against her knees and blinked her purple eyes. “Did you get into a fight or something? Is that why you didn’t show up the other night?”
    I nodded, knowing I’d left her alone in the forest for two days. I was too busy to train, and I couldn’t get away from the Dark. I hadn’t even gone to school. But I couldn’t tell her that. Not yet.
    “Talk to me,” she said, bumping her