Page 23 of The Spark that Ignites
He tilted his head. “Surely you have at least one.”
“That’s presumptuous to assume.”
“I mean ... you are a bit prickly.” He kicked a rock, sending it skittering along the path as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “But I’m sure you’re not all bad.”
Emmery rubbed her aching eyes and exhaled a hot breath. “That’s not what I meant. Living among humans wasn’t exactly a joy. Everyone has been out to murder me for the last century, remember?”
“I can see this is a sore subject,” he said softly before mumbling something about her hostile tone. A beat of silence passed before he asked, “What was it like? Life withhumans.” He feigned a shudder on the last word.
“I wouldn’t recommend it. Unless you get a thrill from the daily threat of death.”
Vesper blinked curiously. “And you never made any friends to help you?”
Emmery drew her cloak closer though she wasn’t cold. “One of my last friends tried to kill me,” she said under her breath and Vesper’s gaze bore into the side of her face though she didn’t spare him a glance.
Shortly after she had met Fionn and it was a sort of silver lining amongst a black sodden cloud of despair. When she first stepped inside his bookstore, she had been drowning in grief, but it wasn’t the cheery doorbell, soothing scent of parchment, or the endless stories offering escape that saved her. It was Fionn who helped her come back to life.
He had given Emmery a handwritten novel bound in black leather by an unknown author. Whether it was to distract from her own pain or a way to commiserate with the story of love, loss, and longing, she wasn’t sure, but it quickly became her favourite. She cursed herself for losing the book long ago, along with Fionn. Now all she had left of him was this dagger and ring—both empty items compared to his company. Emmery never knew if he had survived the war or given his life along with the other soldiers. Perhaps he hadn’t returned to her for a reason.
Whatever the case, to this day she still mulled over scenarios. If they hadn't separated or even if they planned to find eachother again, maybe things would be different. He was the last person she truly trusted after Maela passed and, despite knowing her secret, he’d kept her safe. When she lost him, she lost a little part of herself too. It was a loneliness she never wanted to feel again.
“I’m, uhm—” Vesper fidgeted with the strap on his glove. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Emmery’s gut twisted thinking of Fionn, Maela, and her whole plan of stealing the items. But mostly how to keep her heart safe. “We don’t have to do this,” she said, the words wheezing out of her.
Vesper studied her. “Do what?”
“This.” She gestured between them. “Make small talk. Get to know each other. We don’t have to be friends.”
“I’m just making polite conversation.” There was a challenge in that infuriating smirk. “Who said I wanted to be your friend anyway?”
Her cheeks pinked but she didn’t look away. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Exactly. This can be a business transaction between us. No complications. No messy feelings.”
“Messy feelings? That’s a bit dramatic.” Vesper shrugged as if it meant nothing to him at all. “It’s your loss. I’m an excellent friend. Not the type to cause messy feelings.”
Of course he would think that.
“I’ll take my chances,” she lobbed back though the whole situation stung a bit, leaving her stomach in knots, though she couldn’t explain why.
As they walked, silence swelled between them, disturbed only by the crashing waves, whispering wind, and rustling leaves in nearby trees. Beside her, Vesper fidgeted with his weapons belt, the clang of metal severing the peace of nature. “Are we just going to walk in silence then?” he asked.
Emmery’s lips twitched. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”
“No.” Vesper twisted his mouth to the side. “I hate silence.”
“You hate silence? The most peaceful thing in this world?” A mock smile spread across her mouth, and she couldn't help herself. “Reason number one why we can’t be friends.”
Vesper narrowed his eyes. “You’re mean for such a small thing.”
Emmery shot him a glare, which he ignored, and proceeded to fidget the entire way—unclipping sharp things from his belt, adjusting his pack straps, stuffing hands in and out of his pockets, and flipping his hair from side to side. He really hadn’t been joking and between the fidgeting, he filled the silence with a mix of humming or whistling. While the melody should have been pleasant, his inability to carry a tune grated on Emmery’s nerves.
Glaring at him sideways, she gritted her teeth. “Do you have to do that? Gods, my ears arebleeding.”
“Ha-ha, very funny.” He grinned and whistled louder.
Clenching her fists to restrain from punching him, she pondered the bargain terms. It didn’t say anything aboutherharminghim.
But the further they walked, the louder Emmery’s feet protested—the new boots already chafing in an unsavoury way. What kind of person buys their friend uncomfortable boots? She stifled a groan as the skin rubbed raw and yet, they continued, heading gods only knew where.
