Page 103 of Wilds of Wonder
“It smells like something burning.”
“Down here?” I asked, doubtful. “There’s nothing to burn.” I stalked to a wall and placed my hand against the damp stone. “It’s too wet, Emory.”
“I’ve smelled this before,” she said slowly. “It’s not like a burning fire. Or burning flesh.” She shuddered, tapping her chin. “It’s more like the smell of a lightning strike ...”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, we both stiffened, our gazes locking.
“A lightning strike,” I echoed.
She swung the torch again, and I shoved out my hand, forcing my fire magic forward as we followed the scent. Now that Emory described it, I recognized the smell of a sizzle permeating the air.
“You don’t think...” I couldn’t even finish the sentence.
“Why would the lightning bolt be down here?” Emory asked, following my train of thought as we walked in the dark space toward the tunnel, the smell becoming stronger.
“Well, what’s a reason to hide something?” I pushed out my hand, making my fire magic fly further along to illuminate our path while Emory’s torch lit the immediate area.
“What do you think these tunnels were used for?” Emory asked, raising her torch to light the stone ceiling.
I shrugged. “Well, tunnels like these are common in all the castles. They were built in the Old World as an escape should any attacks happen. They usually lead out of the castle to some undisclosed location. I’m guessing this one does the same.”
“I don’t want to be spit out somewhere in the Wilds.” Sheswallowed thickly. “Not when it finally feels like we’re safe. Even if it’s just temporary.”
And I had no desire to be separated from my sister once again. “That’s not going to happen,” I assured her. “We’ll see if our suspicions are right, if the bolt is this way, and if it is, then we’re going to have a lot to say to El.”
Emory shot me a look. “And Aron. He’s the one who took the damn thing.”
I rubbed my jaw. “You know, I’m starting to think Aron’s not capable of lying. He said he didn’t know anything about the bolt, and I believe him. He disappeared for hours with that bolt. He probably doesn’t remember any of it.”
The smell of burning grew stronger, and now it wasn’t just fire that lit our path. A bright yellow glow sparked ahead of us, a familiar glow.
Emory walked ahead of me, faster, and I grabbed her arm. Just that simple touch sent a jolt through me. Now that I’d gotten a taste of her, I craved more. Craved what she wasn’t ready to give. What she might not ever be ready to give.
She whirled, eyes flashing. “Worried I’ll get there first?”
“I’m worried about you.”
She faltered, then raised her chin. “I’ll be fine, Bone Collector.”
I winced at the use of my nickname. It felt like a step backward. Too anonymous. I sighed and let her go, and she turned, continuing down the dark path, the yellow glow growing brighter and bigger the closer we got.
Emory passed my fireball, still holding out her torch, but the light was limited.
“Stay close,” I barked.
“You really can’t stand me winning,” she said over her shoulder, the stubbornness in her voice loud and clear.
“What I can’t stand is seeing you hurt,” I said back. Spirits forbid something worse happened.
Silence followed, and I wondered if I’d said too much.
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to gloat when I win,” she said, ignoring my words.
“You really never stop.” I took a cautious step forward.
“Not when I’m having so much fun.” She raised her torch in the air.
I twisted my hand, making my fire magic twist downward, to light the ground better. “Glad you still have fun with me.”
