Control

Naomi couldn't sleep. She turned once on the firm mattress and then twice before she tossed the sheets off of her body.

The weather was cold but her skin was sweaty and clammy. The events of the day still bothered her even though she had spent the rest of it teasing Azriel with Daegal and watching how the blacksmiths fashioned fresh weapons and armor.

Remorse wasn't the problem. No, Naomi didn't feel any guilt or sorrow over the enemy soldiers she had killed. She had come to realize that in this world, it was kill or be killed and for her loved ones, she would do anything for them.

It was the terror of her power that ate at her, and the mystery surrounding its origin. There were too many questions that had no answers and damn if it wasn't frustrating.

Meriana's unfortunate passing had opened her eyes to just how volatile and unpredictable the magic she possessed could be and while she felt better that it was the enemy she used it on earlier that day, Naomi wondered how devastated she