Free Bound by Blood and Sand by Becky Allen Page B

inside during the worst of the sun. Since she was dragging Tal out to the garden anyway, the Curse hadn’t stopped them.
    Besides, no matter what Tal thought, she felt much better than she had the previous night. She was still stiff, but the throbbing through her body had finally eased, and she could walk on her own again. The bright colors and glows she’d seen had faded. She wasn’t dizzy. Everything that had happened during her fit had subsided—except her certainty that she’d created the flower outside, and a strange feeling that there was something more to her dream, something she’d forgotten.
    They managed to slip into the garden without being noticed, and she led Tal over to the fountain. Leaning close to him, she murmured, “Look at the flower, Tal.
Look.
”
    “It’s beautiful,” he conceded. “I’ve never seen one like it. But I don’t understand—”
    “I grew it.”
    He just lifted his eyebrows, waiting.
    “I don’t mean—I didn’t
plant
it. I imagined it was there. I dreamed about bunches of them. I pictured them when I fainted, and this was here afterward.” She dug her hand into his arm but kept her voice low. “Tal, I
made
this.”
    “Made it how? I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re not making any sense.”
    As loud as she dared, she retorted, “Because
this
doesn’t make any sense!” She dropped his arm and grabbed the fountain’s brim. Her hand tingled, but it was a pleasant, warm feeling. “I don’t know how. But yesterday I saw some of Lord Elan’s papers,” she continued, and explained as quickly as she could what had happened.
    Tal stared at her but didn’t interrupt and didn’t contradict or tell her she was crazy, even though she knew it
sounded
crazy.
    “I can’t explain it,” she finally finished. “But I
know
I did this.”
    “That isn’t possible,” he said at last. “You must
think
you did, but…”
    “Then explain it some other way.” She crossed her arms.
    He looked down at the fountain, stooped to examine it, reached for the flower. For a terrifying moment, Jae thought he was going to pick it, but he just ran his finger down the delicate stem and across one of the leaves. It was lush, deep green.
    “Magic,” he finally said, quiet and reverent. “I can’t believe…It just seems so impossible.”
    He was right. Growing a flower with magic sounded entirely mad. No one had used magic since the end of the War, but it had been common once, before then. It had been generations, but…
    “The flower can’t grow without water, and I didn’t plant it. There wasn’t even a bud there before I fainted yesterday. And I felt something.” Thinking she had magic may have been madness, but Jae knew deep in her core that it was also the truth. She was so doubt-free that the Curse didn’t even stir.
    “But then…that’s amazing,” he said, and then looked her in the eye. “And dangerous.”
    She nodded. True, all those generations ago, magic had been used to craft the Well, to save the world—but their ancestors had also used it for war. Taesann, the great traitor, had gathered an army of rogue mages for his rebellion, and had nearly toppled the Highest in his attempt to seize the Well. As long as there was magic in the world, another war could happen. That was why the Highest had turned away from it after casting the Curse, and why they’d hidden the Well’s location, even from their own descendants. Now they used magic only when there was no choice, when protecting the Well required it.
    Now, looking down at her flower, Jae could almost feel the echo of her ancestors’ power. Magic could be life—or death.
    “If it really is magic, we need to know how it works, what you can do,” Tal finally said.
    “I don’t know much yet,” she said, answering the implied question. “I was cleaning the fountain, and everything just happened.”
    He hesitated again, looked around, up at the windows, and finally said, “You should try it