Page 61 of Spark of the Everflame

“You know I would support you, right?” I said softly. “Even if you were more than ‘just friends.’ Even if you steal her from her cousin-husband and run off to Umbros to elope and have a thousand forbidden babies. I’d be the proudest aunt there ever was.”

And I meant it. Though I couldn’t fathom ever falling for a Descended—I would die before I’d ever allow myself to get caught up with one ofthem—I would stand by Teller’s side, whatever choice he made. Even if he was rash and foolish and broke all the rules, I would do it, because I knew he would do it for me, too. He always had.

“Be careful, alright?” I said. “No matter what happens, I’ll have your back. Just... be careful.”

He nodded without responding, a thousand words passing unspoken between us. We sat in the dim quiet for the rest of the evening. Though the silence was occasionally broken by the rustling of his papers, I knew my brother well enough to know his mind was far, far away from his schoolwork.

ChapterFifteen

The following day, my father’s warnings still whispered through my thoughts. I had expected him to tell me to accept the immutability of the Descended’s harsh rule and find other, smaller ways to make a difference. And perhaps, in some ways, he had.

But there was something else underlying his words that lingered. Somewhere buried in his lessons, there was a challenge. A calling.

I didn’t know whether it came from him or from within my own heart, but I felt it as surely as the autumn breeze that chilled the sweat upon my neck.

I was not made to sit and do nothing. I was made tofight.

And as I made house calls to my patients throughout Mortal City, tending to broken limbs and persistent illnesses, thevoicethat had taken residence inside me whispered back.

It heard the calling, too. And now it paced, a rumbling beast in its pen, waiting for me to find the courage—or the madness—to set it free.

My last call of the day took me to the outskirts of Paradise Row, to a stretch of alleys where purveyors of sex hovered in every doorway, offering their carnal talents to the lonely, intoxicated souls who staggered out of the nearby pubs.

I knew better than to ask for too many details when making calls in this neighborhood, but when I walked into the brothel’s parlor to find a very pissed-off woman standing with arms crossed and fresh blood coating her body, my curiosity got the better of me.

“What in the Undying Fire happened? I was told there were only bruises and possibly some broken bones.”

“That’s right,” the woman said curtly. “The girl you’re here for is in the back. This blood isn’t hers.”

“Is there a second patient?”

“No.”

“If someone’s bleeding, I should really see them first, this is a lot of blood t—”

“The blood is none of your concern.”

She raised an eyebrow in an unspoken threat.

“Understood,” I rushed out.

She waved me into a back room where a woman was perched on the edge of a rumpled bed, naked and weeping. She clutched a bedsheet to her body to cover her more intimate areas, blue and purple splotches already visible on her coppery skin.

An entourage of women in lacy garments surrounded her, holding her hands and stroking her hair, murmuring tender words of support. Several were covered in blood. They were much younger and more scantily clad than the stern woman who’d greeted me—a madam and her girls, I guessed.

I ignored the guarded looks from the other women as I nestled beside the injured girl. “I’m Diem. I’m a healer, I’m here to help you.”

She sniffled up at me. “I’m... um... Peony.”

Not her real name—I knew that much. This area of Paradise Row was mockingly referred to as The Garden in honor of the fanciful flower names commonly used by its vendors. The pseudonyms played upon the male fantasy of the innocent ingénue and protected vulnerable workers and their families from being pursued by cruel judgments and dangerously infatuated clients.

I offered up a sympathetic smile. “Nice to meet you, Peony. I’m very sorry this happened to you.”

Tears clung to the sweeping lashes that curtained her large, tawny eyes. “How long will the bruises last? I gotta get back to work soon, I need the money.”

“Don’t you worry about that, Peony,” the madam said gruffly from where she leaned against the door frame. “We’ll take care of you. Won’t we girls?”

The other women nodded in emphatic agreement.

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