Page 144 of The Spark that Ignites
Destonne’s eyes flicked between the two of them, hesitation, and amusement in his raised brows, before saying, “You heard her.”
Emmery strode from the chamber and Vesper desperately called after her. She didn’t look back, leaving him behind as she had her cottage, her old life, anything that had ever made her feel okay.
But as she crossed the threshold of the door and rounded the corner, her knees buckled. She braced herself against the wall as her heart cracked open and humiliatingly spilled for everyone to see. It took several moments to collect herself and summon all the bitter strength which had kept her going all these years.
This would not break her—she wouldn’t let it.
Destonne’s sharp words escaped the throne room as Brennen led her to Fionn’s chamber. “If youevertouch her again without her permission,” malice simmered in the King’s words; his tongue biting as he said, “I’ll cut off your hands myself.”
Chapter Fifty-One
The King of Thorns was right; Fionn was in bad shape.
Emmery knelt at his bedside and clutched his hand as she traced the serpent tattoo coiling his fingers and wrist. He lay unnervingly still; his sallow eyes relaxed in a cavernous sleep. His blue fingernails appeared badly bruised and his bloodless cheeks were dotted in small pricks of sweat. If she hadn’t found his steady pulse, she would have thought him dead.
But as she examined the delicate roundness of his nose, almond eyes, sharp cheekbones and that crooked smirk—
How had she not seen that he and Briar were siblings?
Emmery pressed his cold, limp hand to her forehead, counting each of his ragged breaths in time with her own.
What if he never woke up? What if the last memory would forever be before the war?
They had never said their goodbyes. But she’d never been particularly good at them anyway.
Emmery’s vengeance had cost her this friendship and so much more. Because maybe he would have brought her back over the gate if she hadn’t run. Maybe she would never know now.
It now made sense why he never came back, though it didn’t hurt any less.
I waited for you; she wanted to scream.I waited for you to come back, Fionn.
Emmery startled as a strange white serpent slithered out of the covers, splaying its feathers in place of scales. It huggedFionn’s bicep and flicked its tongue inquisitively but didn’t come closer.
Destonne’s light footsteps echoed on the white tile as he entered the room. “How is he?”
“You tell me,” she replied bitterly. Forehead still pressed to Fionn’s hand, her words muffled into the bed. Likely best he couldn’t see her leer. “He’s been inyourservice.”
“I know how much you love to point fingers, but this wasn’t me.”
The corner of the mattress sank with the King’s weight. He hadn’t cared to wipe away the blood smearing his face and neck and must have come straight from the meeting.
And as Destonne studied Fionn, the tiniest fragment of emotion emerged and vanished too soon in his obsidian eyes. “But clearly, I’m not doing a good job watching over him.”
“He’s not a child.” Emmery turned over Fionn’s hand and dragged her thumb across his knuckles. “Why are his fingernails blue?”
Destonne brushed a stray black lock of hair from Fionn’s forehead, and the act was so caring, gentle even, she gaped. “Do you remember what I pulled from your pocket that day in Malheim? It’s called bone ash. An extraordinarily nasty substance. Easy to overdose.”
Words slipped through the cracks in her mind as she stared down at Fionn’s helpless face. That wasn’t the Fionn she knew. He’d never even touched a drink in his time with her, let alone drugs. Though realistically, he’d lied to her, and they had only known each other for a little less than a year.
A question shaped her lips, but Destonne spoke first.
“He’s been clean for some time. This was his longest streak.”
Emmery perched herself beside Destonne, folding a leg beneath her. “How long has he been asleep?”
“About ten days.”
“He’s been sleeping for over aweek?” she nearly gasped.
