Page 68 of The Spark that Ignites
When Vesper nodded, Emmery flopped face down in the plush black blankets, grinning like a fool. Aera entered the room with a sassy swish of her tail and leapt onto the bed, settling on an embroidered pillow. This room was fit for a princess, certainly not someone like her, but it felt as though the design bled straight from her mind.
She sat up, inching to the edge of the bed.
“I had the linens washed while you were bathing,” Vesper said, taking a seat beside her. “I also read three of your books, used your writing desk to start and finish my autobiography, and took a try at some of your powders there.” He gestured at the vanity. “Apparently makeup is not one of my many talents.”
Emmery elbowed him and he exhaled a throaty laugh as he rubbed his side. “You’re ridiculous. I wasn’t in there that long.” Her heart lodged in her throat as she attempted to read the novel titles from where she sat. “It’s like you pulled this room straight from my imagination. That’s my favourite colour.” She leaned back on her hands, nodding at the walls. “If I ever had a home of my own, I would’ve painted it all that shade of green.”
Vesper stood from the bed and walked to the doorway to lean against it, his expression impassable. “You never had a home across the gate? What about that house you brought me to?”
“The cottage? I haven’t lived there since my sister—” She abandoned the sentence, unable to finish it.
His gaze locked with hers and it wasn’t sadness in his eyes, but understanding. “Well ... you can stay here as long as you like. Forever if you want. The castle is too big anyway.”
She swallowed against the burning tears in her throat. “That’s kind. Thank you. But I’m sure one day I’ll have a home of my own and I won’t have to leech off you.”
“I don’t mind. It’s ... nice to have the company.” Vesper lingered in the doorway for a tense moment before he cleared his throat and crossed his arms. “I’ll be across the hall. If you need anything, don’t hesitate.” A few heartbeats ticked by, and he appeared as if he wanted to say more, opening and closing his mouth several times, but he turned on his heel and left.
Emmery bounded to the first bookshelf and ran her fingers along the dusty spines. Whoever picked these had good taste and from the dust on the volumes, like everything else, they had lived here for some time. The novels were fairy tales with fantasy sprinkled in but overwhelmingly romance.
Though she knew it wouldn’t be here, she rifled through the shelves searching for her nameless book lost all those years ago. It was likely left in Fionn’s townhouse, now home to someone else. She wondered if they had found the book and read it too. Though she hadn’t seen it in many years, every word remained etched into her mind, as if they flowed from her own heart and hand.
Thankfully Vesper had laid her pack beside the bed, and a sigh of relief left her as she found the celestial trumpet. She was one step closer to bringing Maela back. Tucking it carefully awayin a drawer, Emmery searched her bag until she found the book from Rhessa.
She settled into bed, tucking into the love story. But as she drifted off to sleep in her new temporary home, surrounded by lovely things and promises of a bright future, herShadowheartfluttered against her chest andkhaosflame purred beneath her skin, reminding her that she in fact, didn’t belong. Not here. Not anywhere.
She wasn’t normal.
These pretty belongings, this pretty life ... it wasn’t for her.
And never would be.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Castle Dusk was untouched, unlike the city outside, other than a few broken pictures, copious cobwebs, and the same musty, abandoned odour like that of her cottage.
Aera toddled along, occasionally nosing the back of her leg to remind she was there.
Mirrors lined nearly every wall, a feature she’d somehow missed as Vesper had carried her inside. Had she been that delirious from the fever not to notice? A chill snaked her spine as her reflection followed her.
As Emmery wandered the castle, opening the windows to cleanse the dead air, she searched for Vesper within these walls. To understand him or perhaps feel his childhood here.
The throne room, offshoot from the main entrance hall, was brightly lit with large windows and ashy marble floors. The throne itself was cut from blackened stone with splatters of white like stars, their insignia etched into the backrest. A gold-flecked stain of blood caught her eye, raising the hair on the back of her neck but Aera didn’t seem to mind as she leapt onto the throne and perched herself like the princess she was.
“Aera, down!” she snapped, shooing the fox away. Aera merely shot her a defiant look, her teeth hooking over her lip, until Emmery snatched her into her arms and strode from the room grumbling her disappointment into the fox’s ear.
Adjacent was the ballroom, elegant and warm with its velvet blue carpets, dark wood trim, and crystal tears hanging from each of the black iron chandeliers. But it was the floor to ceilingstained glass window that made Emmery’s heart slow. The window sang stories of life and beginnings, tragedy and ends, with two figures she could only assume were Deimos and Kahlia, their backs turned to one another.
An ebony table, the length of ten horses and the wood of the Sacred Land’s trees, dominated the dining hall branching off the ballroom. Emmery ran her hand along the length of it, dust gathering at her fingertips, as the thundering clang of pots and pans chased by colourful curses, bled through the walls of the kitchen.
Emmery jumped, her eyes darting to the door. When had someone else arrived? The castle was empty last night.
“Vesper?” a woman’s voice called. “Give me a hand, you prick.”
The door swung and a woman with flawless ebony skin, and silver threaded black hair knotted at the nape of her neck, stared back at her. The woman gaped at Emmery for a rigid moment, likely realizing that she wasnotVesper, before crossing the room and yanking her into her arms. With a yelp, Emmery tensed before sinking into her soft body. A maternal quality lingered in that embrace like her mother’s bear hugs and spurred an ache in her chest.
“Apologies. I’m a hugger.” She held Emmery at arm’s length and squeezed her shoulders. “My name is Marlys. And you”—the woman dropped her hands—“must be Emmery.”
“Nice to meet you,” she managed, though the embrace left her mind whirling. Was everyone this forward? She glanced at the kitchen in disarray. “Did you just arrive?”
