Page 15 of Spark of the Everflame

Henri always returned from these trips with fascinating stories of life outside our insular village that filled me with no small amount of jealousy. Aside from the occasional trip with my parents, my own life kept me firmly rooted in Mortal City, the path laid out for me unlikely to ever lead anywhere more exciting.

Eventually, the red and gold canopy of the autumnal trees gave way to buildings, and the sprawling expanse of town opened up in front of us.

Mortal City. I smirked to myself at the absurdity of the name. There was nothing urban about our poor, forest-ensconced village. The collection of crumbling brick buildings and tin-roofed shacks could more accurately be called a slum.

It was the Descended who insisted that all mortal settlements use the same label, regardless of size or character. It mattered little to them that our communities once bore proud, meaningful names of their own. Names of great chieftains and monarchs, mighty clans or beloved figures, the Old Gods we’d once turned to for salvation—these names had all been stripped away with the rest of our mortal culture, our collective skin scraped bloody and raw.

As usual, the Descended claimed the erasure was in our best interests, a “symbolic unification” to assimilate our two races. I suspected it was really meant to serve as an ongoing threat that we mortals could be wiped away with the same ruthless efficiency our culture had been.

Henri said his goodbyes, and I headed for the modest stone building that served as the healers’ center. Maura was already inside, humming over the clink of glass vials and stone tools as she sorted through our supply closet.

“Morning, Maura,” I chirped, slinging my pack onto a nearby table. “What adventures are we in for today?”

“Morning, dearie.” Maura waved in greeting without turning away from her work. “We need to check in on the Barnes family’s little one. Perhaps later you can show the trainees how to whip up a balm of cloudsbreath?”

“Of course.” I wrapped a rumpled linen apron around my hips and set to work on the usual morning tasks.

This building was as much a home to me as the cottage on the marsh. I’d grown up clinging to my mother’s hip here like a persistent shadow. By age ten, I could already create most of the tinctures that lined the shelves. Most trainees spent years apprenticing before they treated patients alone, but I obtained full healer status soon after finishing school. Under the tutelage of Maura and my mother, I’d become as skilled as any healer in the realm, despite my age.

There was one small, but crucial, gap in my competence—healing the Descended.

All Descended were gifted with quick-healing abilities that rendered them immune to most illnesses and injuries. For grave conditions, they could travel to Fortos, Realm of Force and Valor, for a visit to the powerful magical healers that served in the Emarion Army. As a result, the Descended rarely sought the aid of mortal healers.

There were, however, a few exceptions—children, whose healing powers developed at puberty with the rest of their magic, and a handful of rare poisons, the details of which I’d been forbidden from learning. My mother had even gone so far as to lock away the notes of her patient visits so I couldn’t study them later.

I’d learned early on that no amount of protesting would sway her decision to wall me off from the Descended world, in curious contradiction to how shrewdly she had negotiated to get Teller into the academy. I’d called out the double standard with great enthusiasm, but all my tears, screams, and slammed doors hadn’t made a dent.

You’re just going to have to trust me, my little warrior, Mother had assured me.I know what I’m doing.

My heart cracked at the memory. Six months—six long, lonely months since I’d last heard her voice.

Maura had taken on the Descended patients in her absence, but whatever my mother’s concerns had been, it was clear Maura didn’t share them. Whereas Mother had been steadfastly tight-lipped, Maura would return from calls to the palace or the sprawling mansions of Lumnos City breathlessly recounting every fantastical detail, which I’d gobbled up like a starving woman scrabbling for crumbs.

“Henri’s making a visit to Fortos tomorrow,” I said lightly as I swept a haybrush broom over the stone tile. “He’s asked if I might come along.”

“Oh, did he now?” Maura saw right through my feigned indifference. Her eyebrows wiggled as a wicked grin rose on her freckle-splattered face. “Will there be any chaperones on this trip?”

“Don’t give me that look, Maura.”

“Do thereneedto be any chaperones on this trip?”

“Maura!”

She poked at my hip and cackled. “You lovebirds looking to have some time alone?”

A rosy blush spread along my cheekbones. “We’ll see.”

“Don’t be coy with me. I’ve known you since you were just a babe, tottering around this place in your knickers. You and that boy have been thick as molasses for nearly as long. Only an act of the gods could keep you two from falling in love.”

My throat turned dry. “Love is a big word. We’re taking it slow for now.”

“Tell that to the besotted fool who hovers outside every afternoon staring at you with moons in his eyes until your shift ends.”

“Oh, that’s not love, he’s just imagining me tottering around in my knickers.”

I finally cracked a grin. I was long used to her teasing about my disastrous love life. I’d never been one to yearn for commitment—every time a boy had begun to look at me with something deeper than lust, I’d run as far and as fast as I could.

“If you’re asking me if I can spare you for a few days, the answer is yes. You two go have your fun.” Maura leaned into the storage cabinet and pulled out a small vial fill with a greenish liquid, then pressed it into my palm. “Just make sure he takes the contraceptive tonic first.”

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