Page 10 of Spark of the Everflame

My father’s expression softened. “You’ve done so much to help here at home, and Maura told me how invaluable you’ve been at the center. I see the effort you’re making, and I appreciate it.”

This was the Commander in action. The man who could see a soldier about to snap and reel them back in with kind words and an acknowledgement.

Normally, the ease with which he managed egos was inspiring. Now, watching him turn it on me so seamlessly only further rankled my nerves.

“I only worry for your health, sweetheart. If the illness comes back—”

“I’m fine,” I cut in tersely. “I’m sorry. I’ll take a dose today.”

“Is there a reason you haven’t been taking it?”

My thoughts flickered to a black-eyed woman in a darkened alley.

“I just... I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“How did that jar even get in my fishing box?”

Because I’m planning to take our rowboat out and leave it at the bottom of the Sacred Sea once I work up the nerve.

“I brought the box in last week. The jar must have fallen in then.” I marshaled a casual smile. “I really need to get going or Teller and I will be late.”

His drawn-out exhale made it clear he was unconvinced by my act, but he released my wrist.

I was almost to the door when his voice rang out again.

“Diem?”

I winced and glanced over my shoulder with eyebrows raised.

“I love you.”

My temper dissolved at his gentle words. This generous, thoughtful man who had given up everything all those years ago for me and my mother—he was not the real reason for my anger. I tried desperately to remember that.

“Love you, too.” I paused, then added with a wink, “Sir.”

He gave a rumbling laugh and shooed me off. I grabbed my satchel and bounded out the front door before he could change his mind.

Our house was a simple little thing, tucked away on a marshy inlet that meandered west from the sea at the center of the atoll of Emarion. My father had built it entirely from scratch, wanting a quiet home far enough away from the prying eyes of town. Clearing the swampy vegetation had taken months, but over time, he and my mother had shaped it into the tranquil oasis it was now, a glimmering diamond in a puddle of mud.

This house had always been my safe harbor, filled with memories of sitting on the front porch creating tinctures with my mother, fishing on the water with my father, and chasing Teller through the woods that wreathed the home like a protective shield.

But over the past few months, these walls had begun to feel hollow. Lacking.

“So he finally figured out you stopped taking the powder. What’s it been, a month?”

I shushed my brother, nervously confirming Father was out of earshot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Teller rolled his eyes and joined me on the forest trail.

I eyed him warily. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew. You’ve been a different person since you stopped.”

“I have?”

“Yes,” he said, his tone suggesting the word was a gross understatement. “I’m surprised it took him this long to notice.”

We walked in silence for a few minutes, listening to the crunch of fallen twigs and dead autumn leaves under our boots, before I spoke again.

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