Page 85 of A Petal in the Crown

"Janelle," Jakob whispered. "Please," he begged.

But Janelle held up her hand, shaking her head. "I begged like that—for you to help me, for you to stop them from mutilating me. Do you remember that? My voice breaking as I screamed for your help? You left me to die." She swallowed, lifting her chin. “And I think it’s only fair that I do the same." Janelle turned to go back into the house, and Erik raised his hands.

"Maybe an apology would help?" he said. "I'll allow you to beg for your life."

The ground began to tremble again, a slow rumble that quickly escalated into a quake that rocked the earth. The house groaned, and Erik twisted as stones tumbled from the roof behind him so abruptly it caused him to lose hold on his trails of fire.

"Janelle!" he screamed, racing toward the doorway and yanking her backward as the house collapsed completely, dust and dirt billowing into the air in massive waves.

"I'm okay," she said, her hands shaking as they moved from her head to her chest. “I’m okay. I— Erik.” She pointed, and Erik followed her finger to where Jakob and his friends were disappearing into the forest.

“Dammit!” he hissed, pulling Janelle into the garden and away from the trees as the ground continued to buckle and rumble. His anger built, the smoke from his flames mixing with the dust from the house. He couldn’t follow them. Not now, when it seemed the earth was going to break into a million pieces beneath their feet. When a single wrong step could lead to another accident.

Not when it would put Janelle at risk.

As if confirming his thoughts, the other houses followed, collapsing as a wave of tremors rocked the ground. "We’ll find them," Erik whispered into Janelle’s hair, hoping the earthquake wouldn’t kill the bastards. He wanted to be the one to end their lives. Slowly. Agonizingly.

As the final horse disappeared from sight, Erik cast out his magic, wrapping a thread of power around the men and refusing to let it be severed. He didn’t know if it would work—he’d never tried such a thing before—but it was all he could do. The only thing he could think of to help him track them as they fled.

“I’ll see you soon,” Erik spat under his breath, hoping they believed they’d gotten away. Their deaths would be that much sweeter when he found them again, and he would savor the look of terror in their eyes when he pinned them down and forced that apology from their lips. They may have thought they’d escaped, but they didn’t understand that they could never escape what they had done—and what he now would do to them.

Chapter 55

Emma

The potion never left her person. Anytime she set it down, her lungs would constrict until her breaths grew shallow, and her heart would race until she picked it back up. She wasn’t sure if it was some sign from the universe that she should keep it with her, or just a deep fear that she’d need the potion and not have it. That she’d let everyone down; be the reason they failed. It rattled her enough to make sure it was in her pocket at all times, checking and double-checking every few minutes to a degree that was almost obsessive.

Days had passed since Lea, Gray, and the others had set out on their journey, and Emma felt absolutely useless. There was nothing she could do but wait—a task that was not her strong suit—but she had no choice.

Thomas had kept his word, staying busy making weapon after weapon, reinforcing existing ones with new magic. He worked himself to the bone daily, his effort even greater than when it had been eternal night. Emma knew the waiting was weighing on him as well, but still, he stayed. Forher, and it made her feel warm from her toes to her nose every time she thought about it.

She finished making his lunch—not anything fancy like her mother would have made— a hearty sandwich with thick-cut ham and fresh cheese—and went outside to find him, certain that, just like every otherday, he was forgetting to eat, so engrossed in whatever he was working on that even his rumbling stomach didn’t remind him of his need for strength or sustenance.

Just as Emma had suspected, she spotted him sitting beneath the tree he’d taken to working under, leaning against its thick, scaly bark, hoping for a stray breeze to provide relief from the heat. His brow was furrowed, his gaze locked on a bow and quiver full of arrows in his hands. Emma examined the pile of weapons next to him as she approached—at least a dozen—and a pang of worry settled behind her sternum.

"Hey," she said as she drew near, not wanting to startle him.

As soon as he saw her, Emma felt an odd sensation roll off him in waves, a feeling that both scared and fascinated her. It felt like snuggling beneath a blanket by a warm fire, with your favorite book in hand and a cup of honeyed tea—soothing and familiar. And remarkably close to love.

Thomas set down the bow and arrow as Emma plopped down beside him, handing him the plate.

"It’s not lunchtime yet, is it?" Thomas asked. Right on cue, his stomach growled, and Emma pinned him with a look.

"It’s almost dinner, actually."

Thomas grinned, picking up his sandwich. "You don’t have to make these for me."

"I know. I like it, though. My mom always made me special food when I was tired or having a hard day. Though I can’t make anything nearly as good as her sandwiches and soups—"

"It’s perfect. Absolutely delicious," Thomas said through a mouthful of food. "Come here," he added, wrapping an arm around her, still holding his sandwich in the other hand. She snuggled into the crook of his shoulder as they leaned back against the tree, looking up at the sky.

"Are you holding up okay?" he asked.

"I worry about everyone. And I miss them, of course. But I do think this is where I’m supposed to be."

"So do I," Thomas said, resting his cheek on her head, the feeling of his jaw bunching and relaxing as he chewed tickling her scalp.

A flush crept up Emma’s face, but she didn’t pull away. She was getting used to Thomas’s affectionate words and his physical touch, craving it even.

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