Page 12 of The Spark that Ignites
Emmery’s heart stuttered because ... it wasn’t possible. They couldn’t be the same age. “You’re lying.”
“Kennalives are much longer than humans. Most can live a half dozen human lifetimes. Sometimes more.” He tugged a gloved hand through his hair before setting it on his knee. “It depends on the potency of human genes in your bloodline. Also, if you’re lucky enough to live that long.”
Maybe her father wasKenna, though Emmery never met him or Maela’s either. Her sister was conceived out of what she assumed was a non-consensual joining. Emmery tried not to think about it, anger burning in her veins each time she did.
She caressed the handle of her dagger. “So, Vesper ...” This time he definitely flinched at the use of his name—if it was really his name at all. “Tell me about the gate.”
“There’s not much to say. Those who bear the scars can gain passage. But you need magic to cross the Iron Gate.” He fiddled with the clasp on his gloves. “To get past the Guardian, you merely need to know how to sweet talk him. Or bribe.” At her puzzled look he added, “Shortly after it was hidden away, it was sealed under a command from the gods.”
“I suppose you know how to find it. And defied the gods crossing it.”
He smirked. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
Emmery winced as pain drummed in her scars, her confusing childhood coming back to haunt her and lack of knowledge now proving to be a disadvantage. “My mother wouldn’t let me see the gates, let alone go near them, read any books or teach me anything about your kind.”
“Ourkind,” he corrected, narrowing his eyes on her hunched shoulders. “And she was likely trying to protect you. Karynthia isn’t exactly a paradise. Especially now.”
“Karynthia?” She tugged her mouth to the side. “I’ve never heard that name.” Emmery ignored the comment about the land beyond the gate not being paradise, not allowing herself to imagine anything else. Because surely no place could be worse than here.
Vesper quirked an eyebrow. “What do you call it?”
“The Land of Blood and Bone, usually. Demon’s Haven on occasion.”
He laughed and it was a nice, throaty sound—a genuine one that lightened her chest— but she didn’t let herself dwell on it. “I suppose those are fitting but I wouldn’t call us demons.”
“If we’re not demons, what are we?” It felt strange to use the termwe. Because as she sat across from Vesper, she didn’t feel equal. It seemed he still had the advantage in this conversation with the air of certainty that blanketed him and the nonchalance in which he carried himself. It was a confidence Emmery never had and likely never would.
He ran his long fingers over imperfections in the table. “Demon usually refers to an evil being. We’re not born corrupt because we’re gifted with magic.” He fixated on a particularly deep groove. “We’re descendants of gods but we’re notinherently wicked. Humans would be shocked to discover how similar we are. Most of us are at least half human.”
Emmery scoffed. “Try telling King Silas that. He’ll have you strung up by your toenails and dangling over a pot of boiling water before the words leave your mouth.”
He disregarded her comment. “Kennawere created through the procreation of gods and humans. It’s a shame lust for power overtook the ability to exist peacefully. It’s why we closed the gate.”
“Humans claim the war started becauseyourkind attacked them,” Emmery argued, though she didn’t believe the stories. It had to be fear that sparked it. After all, what did the Damned Ones have to gain from attacking humans? With powerful magic at your disposal, overthrowing a monarch would be child’s play and they’d never attempted.
But the genocide of the Damned Ones began years after the war. Emmery hadn’t even been twenty at the time. Most retreated over the gate but she couldn’t leave her sister and taking Maela to a dangerous war-torn land was foolish. Shortly after Maela died, Emmery searched for the gate, but it’d been hidden from the human eye and evidently, hers as well.
For nearly a century, Emmery had searched high and low, digging into any literature that hinted atKennatraditions and whereabouts. But after King Silas burned all the books, there was nothing to discover. So, she searched every corner of the continent, listening to any conversations or whispers of the gate's whereabouts, but she always came up empty.
“Ourkind,” Vesper corrected again, and let out a choked laugh. “And that’s rich, coming from that prick.” Leaning forward on the table, he closed the gap between them, and Emmery shrank back. “Your King, not King Silas but his grandfather, wanted nothing to do withKenna. But when Queen Melantha left him and ran off to Karynthia to seek magic, hedeclared war. Thought she was coerced into taking a bargain. What he didn’t know is that she sought it out. Shewantedpower. And, well—” He shrugged. “She got it.”
Emmery rested her dagger on the table trying to remember that far back. There were countless claims and the message from King Elron had been simple: kill the Damned Ones. No exceptions. It was never disclosed why, only that the gods demanded it and to please Pellius, the four gods, and the following of Hallinth, they must be purged.
“They said she was killed,” Emmery muttered almost to herself.
“Maybe she was as good as dead to him.” Vesper appeared far too comfortable as he leaned back with his arms crossed over his chest. “She’s still very much alive. Made a deal with Deimos, the God of the Hollow, and he granted her magic.”
Her mind raced because if it were that easy wouldn’t everyone have magic? “Do the gods just do that?”
“Deimos only makes bargains with those he considers worthy. Someone he can get a worthwhile exchange out of. Unfortunately for us, she didn’t have good intentions for its use.”
Emmery spun her dagger with her finger, her insides twisting as if a string was attached to it, winding her tighter with each turn. If it was true, the war stemmed from misunderstanding and bitter resentment from a heartbroken king. All the bloodshed, lives ruined, losses ... the sacrifice of her life—
It was because of his vengeance. All this time wasted on it. All her time. All her damned life.
Emmery wanted to scream. To pound her fists and cry to the gods for this injustice.
Vesper ran his finger along a groove in the table, like he could feel her wounded soul within the gouged wood, as his eyes flicked over her face. “It’s been tough for you, hasn’t it?”
