Page 50 of The Spark that Ignites
Ugh, if she never saw a forest again, it would be too soon.
“When did night fall?” she asked.
“About an hour ago. You’ve been unconscious for a while.” Black water trailed down his cheek, his wet, tangled hair plastering his forehead.
She ran her hand down her face. “What happened?”
“Well, you drank from the chalice”—Vesper thrust his hair back, his eyes full of discontent—“and then proceeded tofallinto the spring.”
“Has that ... happened before?”
“First I’ve seen.” He rolled his eyes. “Most people sit or remain standing and go into a trance. I’ve never seen anyone stumble like that.”
Shame warmed her cheeks. “You didn’t tell me!”
“I told you four times, Emmery.Four times. Apparently, you were too busy chugging the water to hear me.” He tugged at his wet collar. “Were you listening at all?”
“I—” But she really hadn't been. The ringing in her ears drowned everything. “No. Sorry.”
He patted her shoulder. “You’resowelcome for saving your life. Again, I may add.”
Emmery groaned, pressing her palms into her eyes. Muttering about ungratefulness, Vesper stood and rubbed his arm. He peeled off his wet tunic and rang it out beside the fire, before hanging it with his leather armour on a nearby branch.
Emmery yanked at her own damp clothes and grimaced. Her head swivelled the clearing, but the spring was nowhere in sight. He must have carried her here.
Vesper rotated his shoulder and winced but when Emmery tried to apologize, he shrugged it off. The bruising was faded and there didn’t appear to be any swelling, at least from what she could see in the dark.
Aera emerged from the bush, a mouse clamped in her jaw. She bit down hard, and bones crunched beneath her fangs.
“Disgusting,” Vesper muttered. Aera shot him a menacing look and growled low in her throat. He put up his hands, scooting backward.
Her white coat glowed in the moonlight as she devoured the mouse. It was easy to look away but impossible to drown out the slurping.
After changing into dry clothes, Emmery lounged on her bedroll and examined the brilliant gold wrapping her skin. The golden fragments followed each wiggle of her fingers; her heartbeat tuned with the magic pounding in her blood. Like it was destined to be there. Her magic swelled and the beast roared, straining against her flesh and growing stronger. More dangerous. Emmery swallowed her panic.
This should be a time for celebration. She’d done it. All the things she ever dreamed of. She crossed the gate, passed the trial for her magic, and met Aera. Emmery kissed the fox’s head as she curled under her arm.
Yet, even after all these years, the endless black hole in Emmery’s chest refused to close.
Chapter Eighteen
“You’re safe,” the phantom murmured. “You’re alright.”
Emmery lay curled up on the ground, arms gripping her middle—holding her together. Her heart slogged with each erratic beat, chest too tight for air. Pressing her palms into her eyes, she banished the images. The clammy hands tearing her clothes, weight forced atop her, hands pinned and desperate cries no one heard or rather cared—
Choking back the bile burning her throat, she told herself she was alright. She was safe now. It was a dream. Just a dream.
She strung together the vilest curses she could conjure.
“Foul words coming from such a lovely mouth,” the phantom mused, voice soft. His lilting speech was like a song long forgotten only to hear the opening note once again. It wrenched something loose in her chest. He crouched beside her.
Emmery examined her torn skirts and red fingerprints already bruising into her thighs. She yanked the fabric over the evidence. “How much did you see?” she asked.
“Enough to want blood on my hands tonight.” His low, menacing tone echoed from far away but his green eyes softened. “I’m sorry I cut it too close.”
She blinked the tears rimming her eyes away. “You couldn’t have known. But thank you.”
And how had she gotten to this place? One moment she’d been on the floor, squeezing her eyes shut, and the next she was here. Wherever here was.
