Page 14 of The Spark that Ignites
Good, she thought. Let him feel her rage. Gods knew she’d been harbouring it for over a century and it burned and festered inside her.
But his eyes narrowed only seconds later. “Were you not the one who stole that coin purse?” he asked, condemnation thick in his tone. “Who torched that poor, innocent beggar in Bagsdead?”
“She leapt on me!” Emmery threw her arm out as if she could replay the scene, paint it across the wall in the blood she’d spilled. The woman’s lifeless eyes resurfaced in her mind, and she blinked them away as guilt swam in her gut. “What was I supposed to do? Let her wrestle me to the ground and steal what little silver I had?”
“Either way that woman’s dead and the guard is after you.” Vesper drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you want to hear my offer? Or shall I leave you to your dismal fate in this—” His lip curled as he glanced around the cottage. “Fineestablishment.”
She glowered, yanked her dagger free, and retreated to the center of the kitchen, her legs too antsy to sit. Flipping the blade in her hand, her mind raced. What choice did she have? What would be the harm in hearing him out? She could say no. He couldn’tforceher into a bargain.
Emmery gnawed her lip. If she stayed here, she would have to keep running. Forever. And it was only a matter of time until the guards found her. But if she went with him, she would be safe, or theoretically, safer.
Gods, how many years had she searched for the gate and come up empty? This had to be some cruel joke.
His acute gaze bore into her. Waiting.
“Fine.” She spat the word with venom.
Vesper squirmed in his seat like the same insects of uncertainty wriggling under her skin were beneath his too. “I’ll take you to safety across the Iron Gate to Karynthia. But in the nature of bargains, I need a favour in return.”
“What do you want? I’m not in the mood for tricks.” Emmery glanced up from the path she’d been wearing into the floor, bracing herself for whatever obscene favour he would call upon. Because it could truly be anything. How much of herself was she willing to sacrifice for safety? How much would she give for a chance at freedom? Would she trade this life in chains for another?
“You don’t trust me?” Vesper crossed his arms, his leather armour creaking as the corner of his lips quirked up. “My feelings aredefinitelyhurt.”
“Why would I trust you?” she demanded, studying him like a sewer rat, because as far as she was concerned, he was as good as one for leading her on. “Give me one reason.”
Vesper stilled and the humour slid from his face. On a hushed sigh, he said, “I saved your life. And I’d do it again.”
His earnest words were a punch to the gut, and she took an uneven breath before stalking back to the table. He was right. He saw directly through her as if her skin was glass and all her secrets lay beyond that translucent, fragile shell. She was alone and desperate, and she’d been on her own all these years, only relying on herself.
But she couldn’t get out of this mess alone.
Leaning her hands on the worn wood, she asked, “What do you want?”
“I need your help.” He exhaled the words like the admission pained him.
Her eyes rounded and she nearly choked on a laugh. “Why in the world would you needmyhelp?”
“I need your powers.” His face was an unreadable mask. “My sister is in trouble, and I need your magic to help her.”
Warning bells went off in her head for several reasons. First, he’d been there that day in Bagsdead and second, that he knew her magic. And if he knew that, what else did he know? This was pre-emptive. Planned. “How long have you been ... following me?”
He gave her an infinitely long look before responding. “Do you want my help or not?”
Her instincts screamed that he withheld essential information beneath those pale eyes and cool demeanour. Because she was no one of significance and the pesky sparks tormenting her all these years were nothing special. But she knew what it was like to have a sibling in peril, and her curiosity and empathy bested her.
Emmery cleared her throat and softened her voice, almost fearful of his answer. “What happened to your sister?”
A muscle flickered in his jaw. “She passed away.” He said it as if she should’ve known or maybe he’d become so desensitized to the admission it held no emotion anymore. She knew what that was like—a pain so great it needed to be bottled. Sometimes it slipped away permanently, because it was safer that way, but it always left numbness in its wake.
Emmery’s brows shot up. “Your sister ... died?” She whispered the last word like some horrible secret.
“That’s an insensitive way to put it, but, yes, she—” He cleared his throat. “Died.” A pang of sympathy sang through Emmery as he choked on the last word.
Alright, so she’d been wrong. Emotion lay beneath his facade.
Emmery gave him an incredulous look, not knowing what he could possibly want with her. “You have the wrong person. My magic can’t do that. Unless you want something lit on fire at an agonisingly slow pace, I can’t help you.”
Vesper walked to the hearth, the gold reflecting in his pale eyes as he studied the flame like the crackling wood whispered secrets only he could hear. “There are things I need, and they’ve been labelled dangerous if fallen into the wrong hands, so the gods locked them away. The magical barriers keeping them contained can only be penetrated with thekhaosflame—the golden fire of the stars. Which it so happensyouhave.”
