Page 21 of The Spark that Ignites
Once she fulfilled her end of the bargain, she would slip away and use the items herself. Even if it was against the gods, having Maela again was all that mattered.
Emmery’s stomach churned as she debated every possible hole in her plan. She knew it was cruel, but this world had never shown her kindness, and Vesper was likely no different. Every time she gave, people took, and over the years they’d taken too much and left her an empty, withered shell. It was timeshewas the one who took. It was time she made things right.
Yet that night she fretted for countless hours, skimming her fingers over the shooting star now grooved into her neck, until she caved and chugged a bottle of spirits to find sleep. Sweet oblivion was more like it.
The empty bottle was still clutched in her hand when she woke, the lingering staleness of it coating her tongue in a fuzzy reminder of her tarnished soul. She stared at the bottle for a long moment as guilt and shame wrestled inside her.
“Did you know you snore?”
The bottle fumbled from Emmery’s grasp and struck the floor but thankfully didn’t shatter. Her racing heart banged against her ribcage, attempting to escape her chest as she fisted the blankets. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
Vesper grinned, ignoring the bottle resting against the toe of his boot. He wore the same leathers as yesterday, all those buckles and weapons smiling in the morning sunlight. Like he owned the place, he reclined in a chair from the kitchen. Had she slept through him dragging it up the stairs?
“And you drool,” he said and snickered. “An impressive amount I may add.”
Emmery pressed her palms into her throbbing eyes. “How long have you been here?” she demanded. “And how did you get in?”
“Don’t be dramatic.” Vesper crossed and uncrossed his feet. “You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you since you seemed to be having such a nice dream. Oh, and you talk in your sleep, in case you weren’t aware.”
Emmery’s face burned, the heat in her cheeks spreading down her neck in a flaming ooze of magma. She didn’t remember any dream.
Vesper’s smile broadened and he leaned forward, palming his cheek. “Who’sShade?”
“Be quiet,” she snarled. What in the world was he talking about? She yanked the blanket over her nose, muttering, “Damn morning people. Up at the ass-crack of dawn.”
“Someone is grumpy. Also, your door was unlocked. Do you have a habit of leaving it open for strangers? Youareout here in the woods alone.”
“I don’t live here anymore, remember?” And she’d never fixed that lock, even when she did live there, but it didn’t mean he could just let himself in. Emmery pushed up onto her elbows. “Do you have a habit of walking into unlocked homes? If so, that’s incredibly creepy.”
Ignoring her last retort, he reached behind him. Emmery braced herself, trying to remember where she left her dagger before hauling her drunk, bleary-eyed self to bed.
From behind his chair, Vesper materialized a black pack and plunked it in her lap. Her fingers skimmed the expensive looking buttery leather. He must have noticed the state of her shabby bag, held together by patches and prayers. This put hers to shame. And it was heavy but not with stuffing.
“I packed some things for you,” he remarked, catching her skeptical yet shocked expression.
“That’s—” Her voice snagged as emotion caught it. The pack wasn’t something she could have bought herself. She had no money and the last gift she received was her ring from Fionn allthose years ago. This was ... kind. And thoughtful. But recalling Vesper’s wordsnothing is free, nothing is fair, distrust hooked into her gut like a fish on a line. “I’ll repay you.”
He waved a dismissive hand, that wolfish grin returning. “No need. Consider it part of our bargain.” Vesper glanced out the window, golden rays from the rising sun kissing his cheek. “We need to leave now to make it before sunset. The forest isn’t pleasant in daylight so I can only imagine how it is at night.”
Emmery’s chest tightened as she too gazed out the window as if she could see her freedom hiding somewhere amongst the thick smattering of trees in the distance. But first they would have togetto the gate.
“I’ll leave you to get dressed,” he said, scrutinizing the ratty clothes she wore to bed. Vesper rose from the chair and sauntered down the stairs, whistling an awful offbeat tune.
Opening the pack, Emmery found a black fitted tunic, a pair of leather trousers, and vest with complicated lacing. It took her far longer than expected to get dressed and weave her hair into a messy braid. How did Vesper guess her size? All the pieces fit the contours of her body perfectly, including the new boots, though they were a bit stiff. Maybe he had a keen eye for fashion? Strapping the dagger to her thigh for easy access and finishing off the look with her dark-green cloak, she had to admit, the armour made her feel tough somehow. However, despite the illusion of strength, her stomach twisted at the projected journey ahead.
Vesper wore all those weapons, and she only had one dagger. Would she need more? Her magic was essentially useless unless whatever attacked her was within arm’s reach, but by then it would be too late.
Emmery ran a clammy hand down her face. The last thing she wanted was to rely on Vesper to protect her.
After packing her few belongings, filling her canteen from a bottle under her bed, and taking a long, luxurious swig to calm her nerves, she stopped in Maela’s room—the original reason for her visit. Whether it was the lack of sleep or heightened emotions from the bargain, she couldn’t force herself to cross the threshold the previous night.
Even now, Emmery choked back the tears burning in her throat.
The stuffed bear Maela had outgrown sat on her unmade bed and Emmery could picture her sister’s ruffled head of unruly red curls, her cheeky smile, and warm, whiskey eyes, like her spirit still lingered. Waiting for Emmery to come home.
Moving to the center of the room, Emmery sank to the floor, desperate to look anywhere but at Mae’s collection of storybooks they had once enjoyed together. The ones Emmery had taught her to read. The ones that would continue to collect dust. The loose floorboard came up as easily as Emmery remembered and a small green box waited untouched all these years. She lifted it with tentative fingers and flicked open the latch. And there, contained within those four wooden walls, a note sat inside.
Emmery’s breath hitched, her waterlogged splintered heart throbbing with the urge to read it. To know those words. To memorize them and etch them into her mind, but she didn’t dare touch it knowing she’d likely fall into a chasm of tears she wouldn’t—or rather couldn’t—climb out of. Because she would inevitably sink until she was below ground, never to glimpse the sun again or feel its warmth, and that endless emptiness inside her would swallow her whole. So, instead, she snapped the box closed and shoved it in her bag. She would deal with it later or at least that’s what she told herself.
