Page 65 of The Spark that Ignites
“I love you more than all the fish in the sea.” Emmery pressed a quick kiss to her forehead as she turned to leave. “I have to get going. Dinner is on the stove and your cloak is clean, hanging on the chair.”
Maela caught her hand. “Promise you’ll be home tonight?”
“I’ll try.” Emmery gave her sister another quick squeeze. “Leave me a note in our box? I’ll read it when I get home and then we’ll go in the morning.”
Emmery didn’t know that night everything would be ripped away. That she would offer anything, give any piece of herselfaway, to experience those little things again. She didn’t know she would miss her sister's carefree smile and snorts between laughs. Or that she would long to struggle with her sister’s hair, even if it was only one more time.
Because loss is a pain like no other, a stain on one’s heart, and those were the last braids Maela ever wore.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Everything hurt. Emmery cracked a puffy eyelid, her raw throat burning with each swallow, as she sat up from the enormous plush bed, layered in navy-blue sheets, with more pillows than any one person could need. The spacious room, fit for royalty, was decorated with dark wooden furniture, a desk strewn with papers, and an indigo velvet chaise. Where was she?
Slumped in a sitting chair, chin tucked, and hood shadowing his face, was Vesper. Black blood and ash splattered his cloak and tunic, their armour and packs piled beside him, yet an array of weapons lingered on his person. His chest rose and fell with even, sleepy breaths.
Emmery frowned, pinching her soiled tunic and wiggling her toes. She didn’t remember removing her boots. Aera snored, burrowing further into her lap as she shifted and the bed creaked. Her gaze darted to Vesper to find him rubbing his eyes.
His voice was heavy with sleep. “How are you feeling?”
“Better ... I think.” The words came out hoarse, clipped, and Vesper raised his brow. “Fine, I’m a little sore.”
She clenched her jaw as she sat up. Maybe that was an understatement. Her body begged her to lay down and never get back up.
Vesper reached to the side table and handed her a glass of water. She chugged it greedily, water spilling down the sides of her face. He took the empty glass and perched on the bed, removing his glove to press the back of his hand against herforehead. He was merely checking her temperature, something no one had done for her since her mother, but she swallowed the lump forming in her throat and unexpected tears burned her eyes.
His faded vestige was barely a white mist over his skin. “You scared me. The venom in that bite gave you quite a fever. But when I found you laying in that meadow, for a moment—well, I thought you were ... dead.”
Shrugging off his cloak, he tossed it aside. Her gaze fixated on his cheek, a bloody gash leaking crimson down to his jaw. It only narrowly missed his eye.
“Hey ... Ves. You’re bleeding.”
His boyish grin pulled the wound.
Emmery winced. “Why are you smiling like a fool?”
“You called me Ves.”
She paused, cocking a brow at him. “So?”
Swiping the blood with the back of his hand, he said, “You’d better be careful, Emmery. It sounds like you’re warming to being friends, giving me a nickname like that. They’re endearing, remember?”
Emmery rolled her eyes. “Did you hit your head too?” Perhaps her plan to convince him to trust her was working a little too well. But the more she could play this part, the easier it would be to steal those items from under his nose. “Does it hurt?”
He shrugged, studying her as if he could see her health. “I’ve had worse. I’m more concerned about this pretty face. Though maybe a scar is the tough aesthetic I’ve been missing.”
Ignoring his comment, she fixated on the gash, feeling a strange pull toward the wound, and despite her attempt to shove it down, her hand lifted, guided to his face. As her fingers connected, Vesper flinched, sucking in a breath but he didn’t pull away. Silver threads spilled from her fingertips, her cheekthrobbing as the edges wove closed, leaving no trace of the wound behind. Emmery stared back at Vesper with as much shock as was apparent on his face.
His fingers tangled with hers. “What did—what was that?”
“I—I don’t know. Oh gods ... did I hurt you again?” Yanking her hand away, she blinked rapidly. She was out of control, her magic taking her over at every turn.
“No, you didn't.” He stroked the newly mended skin. “It was like a warm breath and then the pain disappeared.”
She rubbed at her cheek as if she could still feel the phantom wound. “I think I ... absorbed your pain. Is that normal?”
“I know it’s not what you want to hear, but no. It’s not.” Vesper twisted his mouth contemplatively. “On the bright side, we discovered your Hollow magic. But like your flame, this burden is singular. I’m not even sure what it’s called.”
“Great,” she drew out, voice thick with sarcasm. “I’ll add it to my list of strange abilities.”
