ART is by bubug on deviantArt, called 'touch of fire'. 

We surface somewhere dark and cold.

I gasp, disorientated by the change. We are no longer in Hadrian's room, and judging by the cold chill that winds around my shoulders, we are no longer in the palace at all. A wind shrieks against my body and I nearly curve into the man, seeking warmth, then steady myself by bracing against him and starting up with more questions.

'How did you do that?' I demand, shaking my head against reasoning. 'You...how did you...?'

My husband-to-be smiles, shrugging nonchalantly. As if transporting us miles within seconds is no big deal. 

'Where are we?' I continue. 'Minoa?'

He nods. 'You didn't really think I had to use that portal, like all the Shades? Darling, we're necromancers. We are shadows that move between the curtains of worlds.'

Something blazes within me at his use of the term. We, he'd said. My chest nearly puffs with pride, and I take courage to look at my surroundings. 

I see where I am and take a shuddering, horrified step back. Hadrian's arm shoots out to grab me as I loose my footing, my foot skidding on a loose stone. Far below, we hear it clatter, before there's an ominous splash that confirms my suspicions. I turn to look, my eyes popping as I stare over the cliff's edge, at a roiling sea far below.

Nausea fills my gut, and I pull away from Hadrian's grip. I step away from the edge, my mind pooling with the memories of another day, another life. Standing here, on this cliff, in a pretty lethal dress that took me under. My eyes skittered over the height, to the rocks far below that I must have hit, before I met death within the water. 

Is my body still there? Or did someone think to collect it, bury it, pray for its safe passage? Pray for my happy marriage?

The dark waters give no sign of recognition, save for a small reflection of two figures. 

'Why are we here?' I say with quiet fury. 

Hadrian folds his arms. The image of unconcerned. 'Is there a problem? Minoa is your hometown. I thought this would be a welcome surprise.'

I nearly hiss. 'You know that this is where they sacrificed me.'

Almost imperceptibly, he flinches. But his eyes do not leave me, do not betray defeat. 'And?'

A shuddering sob tries to force its way through me, but I hold on. There's something about seeing this lonely cliff, with no flowers or memorials to mark my recent passing, no sign at all that I'd died here. At the time, I had pretended not to be afraid, acting as though leaving Minoa didn't hurt. 

Below the surface is a bubbling, simmering wreck.

'You're sickening,' I say. 

Back then, I'd had Mercer to be with me, and it's an anchoring thought. This is another one of Hadrian's challenges, one I've got to prove my ability so that I can help Mercer.

That's what I tell myself as I gesture to him to move on. 'Let's start.'

I whirl, letting my angry snarl fade and be replaced by attentive lisening to Hadrian. 

'In the book, the book you were reading in my rooms, it teaches you slowly about the gifts and abilities we have,' he says, 'but you already started discovering those the day my brother freed you.'

I remember with a grim smile. I'd been able to leap so high I travelled across the entirety of Elysium like a morning jog.

'So we're going to start with those,' he suggests, brandishing out to the city, in the opposite direction to the cliff's edge. It's a dark mass of square shapes, lit by tiny glows of lamplight. 

'Okay,' I agree, facing the blackness. A moment passes, and I await instruction.

Hadrian cocks his head at me. 'What are you doing? Show me.'

My cheeks flare, partly in humiliation and the remaining is rage, irritation; he is assuming my better ability, and I can't match that expectation. 

'I don't remember how I did it,' I snap, shaking my head. 'It was just instinct. Elation. I'm not sure.'

What could I even remember about that moment? Nothing except that relief, that tumbling confidence of my ability, the knowing placement of each foot before I needed to move.

That had vanished, and now I don't know how to bring it back.

'Instinct is how it seems to work with you,' Hadrian agrees, and I wonder if that's what he's realised from trying to get me to learn from a textbook. 'Let's just give it a try.'

His calm demeanour unnerves me, but I flick my hair and attempt to impress him. I have the feeling he wants me to ask for help, and I'm determined not to ask.

I plant my feet, I breathe deep. I pace the floor and I even try jogging, wondering if the exertion will bring out anything except breathlessness. Sybella's words return to me, and I'm filled with a sudden idea, letting my mind open, clearing it of any thought or description, and just letting myself feel. The world around me changes, and Hadrian watches me with glowing blue eyes. 

After five more minutes, he says, gently, 'It's not working.'

I'm not sure how long has passed in total, but he betrays no frustration. Perhaps that's worse; maybe I'd rather he shout and berate me for being so useless.

My knuckles crack as my fists clench at my inability. 'I know.'

He doesn't miss the angry downward gaze, the flatness of my tone. I don't take well to things I can't do. I shoot glances at him in between my sulking, to see what we're going to do. His mouth quirks, some thought amusing him, but another catching his conscience. I can see the battle, written across his features, but I don't know what's causing the struggle.

Then he sighs and steps forward.

I miss the sudden movement, the stance of his feet widening and the strength that emanates from that bright glow. All I spot is the hardness that dawns in those flaring blue eyes, the expression harsh and foreign.

And then he pushes me off the cliff.

The push comes with such force that I stumble, my legs flailing wildly for any footing, and then the edge is pulling me over. A scream rips from my mouth, my arms scrabbling in the air without purchase. Like a limp doll I fall, my mind utterly blank except for a roaring rage and ---

-- my stomach drops, my calm awareness dims and panic rises in my throat as I see black, frothing waves below.

Hadrian watches me from the cliff edge, arms folded, and in that second when I should be conemplating how to save my life I'm feeling betrayed, scared and...lost.

His eyes are hard chunks of granite, observing the fall as he might flip a coin. He's not going to change the outcome. He's not coming to my aid. The rage howling inside me dampens to another, foreign feeling: despair. 

And then I hit the water.

It's as cold as I remember, and my gasp of shock exhales any air I might have been saving. The waves buffet me and I fight to keep my head above water, my body away from rocks. My breathing comes in coughing, spluttering and violent indrawn shrieks of ice and fear. Treading with my hands, I spin, trying to figure out if there's a way back to shore-- to anywhere-- and all the while, that dark shadow above watches from the top of the cliff.

I'm breathing in and out fiercely, the noise of rattling water gurgling into my throat loud. Sea water chokes me, and I cough away the burning salt. In place of the despair, a new feeling is settling: more than fear, more than rage; a deeper, darker pit, yawning from the depths of my soul.

Despair is an emotion that comes before the storm, but now I'm in the hurricane, and I find that my centre is much calmer than the winds howling around it.

I'd died here. But these waters hadn't ever killed me.

Now I'm here again, but no longer the bride whose only choice was to let herself sink in order to be found. I lift up my head, dripping wet and lips near blue from the cold, and find Hadrian's eyes watching me. Observing my sudden quiet, my change from panic to resolution.

And I no longer see an expressionless face; I read him, read the slight crease between his eyebrows and the intent stare, the strain of his mouth where he's clenching his teeth to stop himself from calling out, from trying to help. 

Hadrian isn't judging me. He's not even testing me.

Like our marital status, he's waiting.

When I was filled with anger and despair, I couldn't see the emotions that he hides behind a smooth mask. Filled with fear and doubt, I could only see myself.

And I guess that's what Sybella means to really open up and "See".

So, despite my predicament, I smile. And his answering grin lights up his face, the world, and my gaze sharpens on him. In the water, I see my glowing reflection, my eyes pouring the same unearthly blue light that his do. My skin is brighter, my vision sharper, my hearing keener. My body is not heavy, but weightless, and I step from the water with the force of gunpowder lit.

I soar into the air from muscles that leap with the strength of stars.

My body rises, until even the cliff is shrinking beneath me, Hadrian's hair ruffled by the flurry and his smile still flashing his brilliant white teeth. I float down beside him, landing with a graceful dip, resting my arm on his shoulder.

'So, Hades,' I say, 'What's next?'

He raises his eyebrow, knowing he's impressed but can't deny it. So instead his hand finds mine, and he clasps my fingers firmly. Heat rolls down his palms, spreading through my fingers and along my arm-- until my whole body is dry. But even once the heating spell dies down, I'm still feeling the tingling, the warmth, and staring at our entwined hands.

'It's just a parlour trick,' he murmurs, wondering why I'm so awed. 

'What are you doing now?' I demand, turning over our hands to see what magic he's trying. My fingers feel alive with energy, and all of my focus seems to be pooling not only in my gut, but in every centimetre of my skin he touches. 

He gives me a curious look. 'I'm not doing anything.'

My eyes narrow. 'Why should I believe you? You picked the hardest place for me to find any inner peace and then pushed me off!'

His face flashes with a look of guilt that gets my hackles raised even further. He gives me a sheepish and pleading look.

'It was the only way I could think to properly unnerve you!' he lets go of my hand to raise them both in a gesture of innocence. The magic he'd been working halts, my fingers suddenly empty and my chest left bereft.

My eyes narrow, if possible, even further. He gives me a beeseeching look.

'Hecate won't think twice to kill Mercer or your family to get to you,' he says, 'Something like this has to be easy to overcome. I need you to know that you're still there, underneath any emotion that's holding you down.'

I don't know where the boldness comes from, but I catch his fingers again in mine, holding them up before him.

'Any emotion?' I ask softly.

I see him swallow, throat bobbing.

The silence stretches.

I lower our hands. 'Let's go into the city,' I suggest, 'If that's where you planned on heading next?'

I'm assuming that refreshing my earlier ability isn't the only thing he had planned for me. But now it's his turn to be extra conscious of our laced fingers, and I see the flush around his ears as he tries to conjure thought.

'You've seen the Souls of the dead, but I have more to teach you,' he says, a little stilted.

I smirk, enjoying the reaction. With a heavy wink, I say, 'I bet you do.'

He grabs me into a grip that shows we're about to move before I can notice the pink that ravages his cheeks. His arms are over mine as he jumps.

I'm dragged along with him, but all thoughts of teasing leave my head as he throws us into the air. I lurch behind, unprepared, clamping my mouth shut on a squeal that had started as we ascended rapidly.

It's Hadrian's turn to grin and flash me a look of revenge, pitched slightly with concern as I look pale reaching the peak of the jump. In one motion, he shifts so that his arms are underneath my shoulders and knees, and I'm pressed up against his chest. 

I have a split second to register the warmth and the thudding heart, and his whisper, 'I don't think I've ever heard you so high pitched.'

And then we drop like a stone. I screech again as I leave my stomach fifty metres above, with Hadrian roaring with laughter all the way down, the only thing I hear louder than the wind whipping around us, our own personal hurricane's eye.

When he slams onto a rooftop, dislodging a couple of tiles, I swear he lingers holding me for a moment before he takes two quick strides, launching us back into the air. 

I stop trying to watch, to keep my eyes on a point so I don't become dizzy. Stop trying to keep my gaze on anything sends my stomach into a vortex of lurching. I shut them, curling my head into Hadrian's spot between his neck and shoulder. He stiffens and then relaxes, and he turns his head so it rests gently on me.

'Char is going to have t teach you a lot if you want to catch up to me!' Hadrian yells, just as we reach ground again. Dust flutters, and his leaps are graceful. I spot dark buildings and the occasional iron rooftop, makeshift houses and bright coloured walls, but I keep slamming my eyes shut.

'Are we there yet?' is all I manage.

'Nearly.'

After another few jumps, Hadrian's feet send the rooftop creaking as he puts me down with a flourish. I stagger, my legs like jelly and my body still tingling from adrenaline and the fact that his hands had been clamped on my body, cupping the curves of my waist. When I see them, I stare almost in amazement, that his hands could make me feel so. But my stare only confuses him more, I think. I put their warmth and care out of my mind and try to step in a straight line.

'Where are we?'

Hadrian gestures to the ground below us. 'Take a look, and you tell me. The living can't see you, unless you make yourself visible. Which I haven't yet taught you.'

And by the sounds of it, it isn't today's lesson. So whatever the building is below, I'm here to watch. Curiousity piqued, I hop from the building, ignoring the sweeping look Hadrian gives my body.

Pebbles crack and scatter beneath my feet on the gravelled surface. Light glows from an open door nearby, and flies are buzzing around it, attracted. Creatures, hunched over and deformed by shadow, hurry to and fro, and there's a strange feeling of a din and clamour mixed with a cold, chilling silence. 

I frown, my gaze flickering over the dirty white walls, to the dark crest painted on the open doors. My keener vision focuses; a serpent winds around a staff. 

Dawning hits me: not creatures, and not shadow. The figures moving inside are people. 

Patients.

Hadrian has brought me to a hospital. 

---

A/N

SORRY FOR THE LONG DELAY!

I am officially back after my long weeks of travelling. After visiting Peru and all its amazing culture, I am back and super inspired to write more adventure and passion here for you. Seven weeks of working in hospitals, trekking, boating to the Amazon and finally seeing a childhood dream of Machu Picchu, I can put down my passport and spend a few solid weeks with hands on the keyboard.

I intended to write a lot more on my travels, but that was really hard. When we were on the move, it was usually by bus, and trying to type just made me feel a bit nauseous. And planes just don't seem to inspire me, somehow, especially when Economy means whoever is next to me is nearly sat on me. 

But, I have another favour to ask...

If anyone is willing to re-read parts of LITTLE SAINT BRIDE, I need help to get it published (yet again in a competition!). I need 100 readers to access the free copy on INKITT, in order to even be considered as an entry. After 100 copies are through, LSB is taken down and the reading stats judged (hence why, even if I downloaded it 100 times and then didn't read it, I wouldn't stand much of a chance as it wasn't read.)

So please, if you fancy a re-read of the first novel this summer, I would be so grateful! I wasn't sure whether to write some bonus chapters, or just release quicker chapters on Inkitt to try and gather some readership there. What do you think?

If you're interested in rereading, I'll post the link in the comments as well as on my profile.

I have missed you!

Larissa 

xxxx