Page 139 of The Spark that Ignites
As he guided her back to her seat, Destonne kept his arm hovering under her, careful not to touch her skin, his other hand splayed over the back of her dress. The warmth of his touch bled through the fabric.
Glinting in the low light, a chain that had come loose from beneath his shirt caught her eye, a murky black crystal cracked through the middle hanging from it. After following her eye line, he tucked it away under his collar like a secret. Everything about this man seemed like a series of complicated calculations one could spend a lifetime trying to work out.
“Why did you do it?” she whispered.
He tilted his head at her, asking softly, “What do you mean?”
“Kill Izora. Burn Ellynne.” Her voice shrivelled. “You destroyed his family. His home.”
Destonne shook his head. “It’s not what you think.”
“Help me understand,” she begged. Everyone else had lied to her, including Briar. Maybe he could provide her with a shred of truth she could cling to. “Please,” she added, just as he had.
After helping her into her chair, Destonne sat across from her and hid the thorns under his sleeve. He pricked his finger and brought it to his lips, his expression steeled.
Folding his hands on the table, he sighed. “Some things are better not to know.”
“I need to,” she argued. “My memories are gone. I was betrothed to Vesper of all people. I don’t know if I loved him. I ... don’t remember anything.” She squeezed her temples. Had she known Destonne before all this too?
“I’ll tell you what I can. But first—” He nodded at her food like she was a fussy child refusing to touch her greens.
It was a deal. And as much as she would rather claw out her own eyes than give him the upper hand, Emmery sighed, forked a few slices of meat, and popped them in her mouth, chewing animatedly.
The meat melted on her tongue. Damn, it was good. She took another hefty bite.
“I have little memory of you,” he said, staring into her soul, his eye contact unwavering. “Most of my time was spent in the north so I wasn’t in tune with the political gossip between the courts, but I believe your engagement was similar to mine and Izora’s—merely a political tie. But, as I’m sure you know, my father detested the followings of Deimos and had no intention of honouring his truce to Malachi Merikh. When my father seized Ellynne, after the capital burned, I wanted no part of it.”
Emmery studied Destonne, his expression that same bored, unemotional mask. It was impossible to read, and she couldn’tsee past it. Couldn’t lift the edges of that facade to peer underneath.
Vesper’s words played through her mind:People are rarely honest. In a world full of liars, words are meaningless. Was the King telling the truth? But why would he lie?
Destonne shoved the untouched wine glass away as if he couldn’t look at it a moment longer. “I wanted no part of what happened to Izora either.”
Emmery’s brows scrunched. “But you still killed her.”
“Believe me. What happened to her—” He glanced down at his fingers woven together. “It’s not what you think. I tried to ensure she didn’t suffer. It was mercy.”
“You didn’t explainwhyyou burned Ellynne. You killed all those people. Left it in shambles.” The bodies, blood, children—if only she could scrub it from her memory. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to just seize it? Not murder all those innocents.”
“Wedidn’t burn the kingdom.Wedidn’t kill those people,” he said, his voice quiet in the soft light of the room. “We merely claimed the land. After it was burned. In minutes.”
Her brows pulled together. “But if you didn’t do it, then who?”
They both watched each other for an impossibly long moment. A flicker of grief laced his expression. And not for those people.
No, it was for what he hadn’t said aloud. What he implied.
“Who?” she asked again, only to be met with a sharp inhale and even sharper nod.
Destonne held her stare, as horror washed over her. Did he see it in her eyes the moment it clicked? The moment her rib cage opened, and her heart was yanked out. A long silence passed, each horrific piece slicing into her chest.
Burned—not invaded, not trampled, not decimated by soldiers.
The kingdom wasburned.
The mere brush of her fingers had scorched Vesper’s armour. Hadn’t she seen it in the images at the Skyborne Temple and refused to believe it? In her own Stone of Refraction, the destruction had centered in the images. The temple had trembled in her fight with Melantha. Her unruly power roared inside her, whispering the confession.
Emmery squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s not possible. It couldn’t have been me ... Why would I—?” Her voice broke. “Ithadto be someone else. With magic like mine.”
