A Court of Light and Melody

Chapter 52 - So Much

"I'm going to fight. I'm going to fight for you. You need to remember that."

- R.L. Griffin (from "Seamless")

Song: Can't Take My Eyes off You - Frankie Valli

The incoming reinforcements did not bother to hide their interest in Gwyn as she and Azriel trained by the cherry-blossom tree. And she could hardly blame them. Her entire body was glowing like the sun that seemed to fix its rays upon her. All the while she sang in a soft mezzo-soprano, expending minimum effort from her lungs.

The light she emitted wasn't so fierce, she kept the thrumming in her veins leashed, under Azriel's advisement. It was a good sign that she could feel her power so close, but it was still very new and their confidence as to if she could truly harness it enough to direct it was minimal. She would only direct it at Azriel's command where he commanded her to direct it.

The shadowsinger poured a bit of water out of his canteen and onto a patch of grass, then pointed to it with his finger. "Can you direct some light there? Dry that grass."

Gwyn took a deep breath and glanced down at her luminescent hands, the freckles remaining and creating dark flecks among the light. She'd never glowed this bright during any of their other sessions. She knew it was that "dangerous crutch" of thriving on fear and anger.

She could feel her palm itch as she merely thought about Azriel's instruction. Like the magic was impatient.

She rolled back her shoulders.

"Remember," Azriel said, haltingly, "Inhale your intent, exhale the light. And dry the grass, don't burn it."

Gwyn nodded. "I understand."

Gods, he was a good teacher. It was difficult to imagine someone so measured and patient (at least outwardly) barking orders at Illyrians. Then again, Azriel had proven himself to have a more... dominant side. The thought brought a blush to her cheeks and had she not been glowing, she was sure that Azriel would have noticed.

The shadowsinger stepped away from the patch of damp grass, folding his arms behind his back. His shadows peered at Gwyn curiously, not shying from her light but intrigued by it.

"Go on," the shadowsinger said.

Gwyn inhaled - This was her magic. It belonged to her . She could do anything with it. It listened. It was hers to wield. And right now, she was going to use that magic to dry that patch of damp grass, just as she had yesterday when they'd trained. Unlike two days ago where she'd singed the greenery (likely due to the nature of the meeting she'd had with Rhysand about Elain).

Gwyn exhaled a light A minor - She gave into the itching heat of her palm, eyes focused on the grass as the light that had been coursing through her body was funneled into her arm. She could sense the dim heat in her fingertips, she could feel the light pool in through her head and filter out of her hand.

A spotlight shot out from her palm and onto the grass. Despite the urge she felt to sing louder, to belt out and unleash that pulsing power beneath her skin, she maintained that gentle A minor. She would not make that mistake. Not when so much relied on her and her control of this magic.

Gwyn could feel Azriel's eyes on her. He wouldn't tell her when the grass had dried. That was for her to determine.

She narrowed her eyes, focusing on the patch of grass. Gwyn couldn't tell if it was brown or green now. There was no way to gauge it with her power either.

Azriel had warned her that this part of magic was different. Monitoring its effect on others was something only she could determine with her basic senses at long range. Sight. Smell.