Page 60 of Of Blooming Embers
Marek rolled his eyes. “She’s just learned we’re related. She’s pissed off about it. Her mother’s alive. Oh, and she’s a Nightshade. Welcome to the family, we’re not that bad.” He waved a dismissive hand at me. But his eyes softened as they roamed over my face, not matching his sardonic tone. I inhaled and exhaled, working through my initial stun.
“What a fecking shite show. Let me stab him in his wee cock, Ryn-Ryn.”
“You know very well there’s nothing wee about it. Besides, you’re not hiding any blades under that scrap of dress.” Mycousin’sbrow lifted. Breena lunged at him, but Rhaegar grabbed the fabric at her back before she could progress any further.
“Rhaeg, I swear to Morpheus, if you want to keep that hand …”
“Enough!” Yaya snapped.
My breathing slowed, and Gavrel released me, standing silently beside me. His warmth calmed me further.
“I know it’s a lot. It’s too much to bear.” Yaya touched my shoulder gingerly. My flinch nuzzled into her touch. “But I know you can,granddaughter, and youwill. Your mother’s life and yours depend on it. Probably your friend’s, too. Come, the Augur has requested an audience with you at Hallowed End tonight.” She stood tall, turning from the gathering.
Glaring at Breena, Marek set his jaw in a square and followed Yaya.
Breena huffed, shaking out her hands and flexing her fingers at her side. “I’ve got you, Ryn. And I don’t care if you’re related to that blighter, I’ll bloody stab him right in his wank-stick if the need ever arises.” The tail end of her threat rose an octave, and I could have sworn Marek’s shoulders shook before settling into a line above his frame.
Distracted, I brushed my hand over hers and caught up to them midway over a bridge, Gavrel at my back, and the others behind him.
Solemnly, all six of us moved toward the very edge of the city. Gavrel stayed close, his hand often grazing the small of my back as we traversed various pathways, mooring me to reality when all I yearned to do was allow my mind to collapse. To obscure my racing thoughts so that they blended into the surrounding fog.
He squeezed my side, and his warm breath skimmed my ear, the scent of mireberries filling my inhale. Less than an hour ago, I was just SerynVawn,and he was justGavrel. When his lips had been on mine, my worries had scattered away for a moment. “You’re still you. I’m not leaving your side.”
He always knew what fears haunted me; his words were a beacon clearing away the phantoms. I drew in a deep breath, held it, and exhaled. I reached behind and brushed my fingers over his hand before it left my flank. My mind quieted, and I shuffled through it. One fact at a time, I tapped my forefinger along the rope railing.
I couldn’t be a Nightshade—a direct descendant of one of the five founding Elders.I scoffed at the thought. Everyone knew that bloodline had died out over a century ago … likely through Melina’s extermination efforts. My jaw jutted forward, anger stirring and ebbing.
Breathe in.
Breath out.
It was impossible. Right?
Incessantly, my scar thumped in annoyed protest.
Nightshade, my ember whispered.Scion.
I gnawed the inside of my cheek, ignoring the words and dread echoing within me. The chances of me or Marek being a Scion had just multiplied.
Another detail floated to the top of my mind. Optimism sizzled under the distress, trying to scorch through it. My mother was …alive. I’d always wished it to be true, but I couldn’t accept one truth and snub the other.
Hope was a dangerous thing. Hope carried you even when you were torn apart at the seams. It made you believe the last stringsbinding you together wouldn’t snap as you pushed onward. Even if they certainly would.
A single spark of hope could fuel a revolution.
It could topple corruption.
It could revive Midst Fall.
I rubbed my palms over my belly, soothing the fluttering within.
As I stared at Yaya and Marek’s backs and felt Gavrel and my friends at mine, conviction tipped up the corners of my mouth. If there was to be a revolution—if I were to save Kaden, my mother, and our realm—I’d be grateful to have more family to lean on. Both by bloodandcircumstance.
If we were Nightshades, the Elders had something far greater to dread than the stirrings of hope. For the spark had already kindled long ago. They’d face our ember and the force of our united mutiny as we burned through the tethers of their corruption.
We’d be a nightmare haunting their every waking moment.
Our group reachedthe end of Helos, marked by a single bridge that stretched into the darkness. The only sounds guiding us through the misty night were crickets and gilly toads, the creaking of planks, and the occasional burble of water.
