Page 3 of The Spark that Ignites
No, something sinister hid beneath his.
Fear tightened her throat as Emmery fixated on the deadly black bear proudly displayed on his uniform.
“Does it matter?” she asked, a little breathless.
“Just some polite conversation.” He took an arrogant swig of his drink. “Humour a curious man.”
The request was simple, a common exchange of information, and yet surrendering her name felt like an unveiling. There was no room to move past him, and panic rose in her throat. She’d escaped situations before, but not like this. Never this dire.
Emmery offered an innocent curve of her lips and batted her doe eyes. “Is this an interrogation, sir? Can’t a woman maintain a bit of mystery?” Her smile was weak rather than flirtatious and she swallowed hard as Fallon studied her mouth. Did he notice?
Rolling his cuffs, he unleashed his muscled forearms. “Your resistance makes me think you’re hiding something,” he drawled. His eyes flicked to the coin pouch tied to her belt, the rapid movement almost imperceptible.
But it was enough to distract her.
Fisting her hood, he wrenched it back. Fallon’s satisfied smile indicated he saw her flinch. He stared at her as if he could pinpoint the guilt swirling in her gut, sensing it like a lifeforce.
Oh gods, someone save her.
“Your hair is quite striking,” he remarked, running his tongue over his teeth. “It’s not often you see silver like that.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d heard it, but his comment hinted more than male interest. Her mother would always praise her hair and eyes, claiming men easily preferred shiny things over mud any day.Silver and gold but more precious than any metal,she would say. Ridiculous.
Despite the countless times Emmery dyed her hair that muddy brown, the colour never took, rinsing off and mocking her as it swirled down the drain like some cruel, unexplainedcard dealt by the gods. And she couldn’t bear to shave it, even for self-preservation.
Emmery recoiled as Fallon tucked a stray strand behind her ear. His interest in her hair could be everything or nothing, but one thing was certain: like a fool, she’d let King Silas’s guard close enough to touch her.
Fallon’s stare traced every contour of her face, fixating on the rosy birthmark blemishing the lower quarter. Refusing to hide under her hand, she spun the ring Fionn had given her. Perhaps she could swindle some sorry fool into pretending to be her husband. Maybe even the wraith-man would play along if she asked nicely.
If Fionn knew what she was doing, he would be livid. But if he were still alive, she wouldn’t have put herself in this situation.
“I hope you aren’t thinking of leaving,” Fallon said as his calloused hand clamped down on her knee and a chill snaked up her spine, prickling her skin. A few scraggly hairs fell from his neat style as a predatory smile claimed his lips. With great effort, Emmery calmed her features.
“Remove your hand,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “My husband won’t be pleased to find you touching me.” But as his fingers found the side slit of her skirts, Emmery’s blood boiled, and magic roared through her veins. Her skin whitened around his grip.
“I don’t see him around, do you? Come home with me. He doesn’t have to know.”
Her fingernails bit into her palms as her sparks rushed with her pounding heart.
Magic was irrefutably punishable by death and despite how violently she fought it, the uncontrollable nature ran its gnarled claws beneath her flesh, like a beast begging for release. And humans were too damn ignorant to understand her torment allthese years. The running, hiding, and fear of her magic breaking free.
She never asked for this power—this burden. And she wouldn't throw her life away now.
But as she searched for someone—anyone—to help her, Fallon’s enormous frame blocked her view. If she didn’t get out of this damned tavern before she exposed herself, she would be in a heap of trouble, but her anger bubbled over and spilled from her lips.
“I won’t ask again,” she hissed. Her nails drew blood as she staunched the sparks in her fists. “Remove yourfilthyhand from my leg.”
Fallon met her smouldering eyes and raised his hands in surrender though sickening heat lingered from his touch. Her sparks ebbed enough for Emmery to smooth her skirts, but her stomach still roiled, and she swallowed down the wave of nausea threatening to drown her.
“I can’t help myself,” he purred. She suppressed a gag as his putrid breath hit her face. “You have such lovely eyes. Like honey on a warm summer day.”
Enough. This wasenough.
Abandoning her plan was her only choice. Because she wouldn’t make it across the gate if she weredead. She prayed that whoever left the note, if it weren’t a ruse, would find her again.
The stool screeched as Emmery floundered to her feet. She shoved past Fallon and through the crowd, his voice trailing. People stared but she didn’t give a damn.
Throwing open the tavern door, she pivoted on her heel and yanked her hood on as the breeze pulled her into the night.
