Page 105 of The Spark that Ignites
It was instinct that led her.
Instinct that pushed her to rip away her bandage and squeeze until the wound reopened. Blood lathered her hands as she rubbed them together and gazed up at the dragon. She only prayed the chains acted as the barrier did.
Emmery reached out for Arborius, but Vesper caught her arm.
The dragon snarled, teeth bared, and Vesper backed toward the exit. Emmery squeezed her eyes shut, grasping the cold metal around his ankle, and envisioned the chains shattering one by one, disintegrating to dust as she had with the barrier. It happened with sprinting speed, the cracking of the metal, the crumble of the ceiling, the thundering of her heart in her ears.
She launched herself backward as the metal splintered and released.
Arborius crashed to the floor and roared—an untamed beast. He shook like a wet animal, unfurling his great wings as fresh blood oozed from the hook wounds but unlike before, they knit together, healing faster than anyKennacould.
Emmery’s stomach sank and she staggered back.
Was this a mistake? What if he turned on her? What if he was truly mad? Regret coiled quickly in her chest.
Gods, Vesper was going tokillher. Arborius shot him a venomous glare before his eyes flicked to Emmery. He leaned down, his breath no longer reeking of death but now wood smoke and sharp mountain breezes.
Speaking too low for Vesper to hear, he breathed, “To second chances. Let us rewrite our stories.” The dragon gave her a terrifying smile and chuffed, a white spark landing on Emmery’s wrist. She winced at the sear, the iridescent ember crackling under her skin. Their pactum. “I look forward to you calling on our bargain, Fallen Star. I have great expectations for you.”
The dragon’s massive wings stirred a whirlwind of dust, and the decomposed bodies melted into the cavern floor as Arborius ascended through the ceiling, chunks of stone raining as he vanished into the sky.
A phantom wind chased them from the cave, saturated by a feeling Emmery couldn’t place.
A premonition.
Whatever it was, it left a chill on the nape of her neck.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Again.” It was the only word Vesper had spoken since arriving at the inn. Really, since they left the cave. The cozy mountain town slumbered outside their window, their room blanketed by the heavy darkness of midnight.
He sat across from her on the mattress, his long legs folded beneath him. Blood spilled from the fresh knife wound and Emmery gritted her teeth, panting, willing her silver threads to stitch it closed for the eighth time.
Dragging his blade with unnecessary force, he sliced his palm, dangerously close to his wrist. Vesper opened his mouth and Emmery grabbed his cold, clammy hand sticky with blood. His eyes flared in surprise.
“If you say ‘again’ one more time, I’m going to smack you,” she snapped. She healed it, wincing at the deep sting and her dwindling vestige cried for relief.
Vesper withdrew from the bed and stared out the fogged window at the thick snow carpeting the ground. With only one damn room available at this tiny inn, camping not a viable option unless they wanted to freeze to death, and the day’s ride back to Ellynne time they couldn’t afford—they were trapped in this cramped, tense, stifling space together for the night.
Emmery stood on antsy legs as she drew a juvenile sun on the dusty splintered floorboards. Maybe if she focused hard enough, she could manifest it and cast the storm away. Licking her chapped lips, she brushed back her tangled mess of hair. Gods,what she would give for a hot bath. But tonight was sure to be uncomfortable in numerous ways and her cold, sore body was the least of her worries.
The room, basically a storage closet, had barely enough space for Vesper to lay down lengthwise. A mattress centering the floor was the only furniture aside from a wobbly nightstand, a cracked mirror, and a few hooks to hang their snow sodden clothes.
They locked eyes across the tiny space, and her stomach plummeted.
“Are we going to talk about what happened?” she asked, her voice brittle as she hugged herself.
Vesper worked his armour buckles, studying the floor. “I’d rather not.”
“Well ... I need to.” If she was going to get any rest tonight, they needed to talk this through. She couldn’t imagine sleeping beside him angry, let alone sleeping beside him at all. Her heart pounded, cheeks flaming. When they had camped it was different. Sharing a bed felt intimate—especially one this small. It was something she’d never done.
He hung his armour and shrugged off his damp tunic. “What’s there to talk about?”
Emmery fiddled with the lacings on her damp tunic but with nowhere private to change, she was left squirming under them. “Unless you really thought it was a good idea to play healer after that long ride today, you’re clearly angry.”
Vesper tightened his jaw. “You need to practice.”
“It didn’t feel like practice, Vesper. It felt like punishment.” But for her or him, she wasn’t sure.
