Page 34 of Spark of the Everflame

Beware of answered prayers.

I slowly drew the crisp air into my lungs, hoping it would somehow soothe the heat that roiled inside. My attention was broken by the sound of a snapping twig.

I sighed, realizing I must have woken Henri. I pushed off the tree to turn back to the campsite—then froze.

Through the trees, the familiar outline of Henri’s body still lay curled up and sleeping by the fire. Whatever was coming, it wasn’t him.

The crackle of steps over fallen leaves sounded again. Closer.

I spun toward the noise and squinted into the darkness. The waning moon cast just enough of a glow to illuminate the woods, but a breeze jostled the leafy canopy above me, causing the speckled moonlight to dance in a way that camouflaged any movement.

A noise rumbled from the trees—low and distinctly inhuman.

Finally, I saw it. The dark browns and blacks of its body melted seamlessly into the wilderness, but its keen yellow eyes and white-furred snout gave it away. Four large paws moved deftly over the terrain, barely audible over its threatening growl.

My hand instinctively flew to my hip, but instead of finding the cold metal bite of my dagger’s hilt, I grasped empty air. My weapons belt had been ripped off in the moment of passion with Henri and now lay uselessly at the campsite.

To be disarmed is to court death.It was my father’s first lesson, a gift on my eighth birthday along with my first proper weapon, a bone-handled switchblade from his collection that I’d been eying for months. In the years since, many of his lessons had come down to that same crucial foundation:The world will try to disarm you, Diem. Do not let them. By wits or by weapon, be prepared at all times.

And yet, here I stood, barefoot and empty-handed, carrying nothing sharper than my fingernails and rapidly losing a staring contest with a hungry-looking wolf.

If the beast didn’t kill me for my foolishness, my father certainly would.

The animal prowled toward me. Its lips curled back, baring a row of sharp white fangs.

I swore under my breath. I knew enough about survival to not turn my back and run, which would only trigger its predatory instincts. I could call out for Henri, but he might not make it in time—or worse, the wolf might turn on him.

The creature moved closer, near enough for me to smell its foul breath as it snarled. The hair on its back stood on end, its tail stiff and horizontal.

Bad signs. Very, very bad signs.

My eyes darted around for a rock or fallen branch, anything I could turn into a weapon, but my search was met with dirt and leaves.

Ice flooded my veins. Was this my fate—some pointless death in the middle of nowhere? Was this all my sad, unimportant life would ever be?

Without warning, the world fell away, just as it had that morning in the royal palace. The moon guttered, trees dissolved into shadow, all sound hushed to a thundering silence.

There was no longer a forest. There was only me, the wolf, and infinite darkness.

Fight.

As thevoiceinside me purred in anxious anticipation, a burning sensation pricked at my skin. A scalding frost, an impossibly frigid inferno. I looked down to see my hands aglow with a silvery light, my fingers twitching in surprise.

My heart roared in my ears. This was impossible—was I still dreaming?

The wolf’s ears flattened. It crouched on its quivering haunches, falling deadly still as it poised to attack.

Shit.This was no dream. Within seconds, those fangs would be in my throat.

Fight.

For once, I agreed with thevoice’scall.

This was going to hurt, but I would fight back. I would scratch and claw my way to safety, even if I had to do it with my bare hands. I would not leave Maura and my family to the mercy of the Descended.

I refused to let this be my end.

I glared into the beast’s amber eyes and felt an unexpected flicker of shared understanding. Its ravenous hunger gnawed at my stomach as clearly as if it were my own.

---