Page 79 of The Spark that Ignites
Briar studied her flawless red nail polish. “I’ve spent the last eighty years helping children in similar situations. Making sure they’re safe and fed. Since Iz—you know.” She twirled a lemon slice in her fingers. “Hollow children have it rough. Go through things no kid should ever have to experience. I was lucky my brother and I escaped before it happened but ... it could have easily been us. I remind myself of that every day.”
Tension coiled in Emmery’s body, an uneasiness at the vagueness of Briar’s words. “What sort of things?”
Briar took a bite, her face screwing up, and tossed the rind into the shrubs. “That was terrible,” she groaned. “Hand me another.”
Exhaling a laugh, Emmery obliged.
Briar flipped it in her palm before speaking. “Hollow children are normally born in poverty. Their parents are usually so fucked up they can’t care for their children, and I think it has to do with the mental implication of the scar. Being condemned from birth. Told they’re wrong. Unholy. A lot of them struggle with substance abuse, and the kids are sold into flesh-trades, picked off from orphanages like my brother and I escaped from. They’re called the Scarlets. They wear a red tie around their neck or wrist for easy identification, and they take a blood pactum. It’s usually displayed somewhere easily seen. Some on their neck, face, wrists, or hands. And the children who aren’t, generally get involved with drugs, whether making or distributing. Sometimes they get deeper into it.” She stared longingly into the distance for a tense moment, as if remembering something truly heart-wrenching and words hung unspoken between them.
Emmery didn’t pry, grasping for something to say but nothing could fix any of that.
Briar took another bite of the lemon, wincing before tossing the rind into a garden pot. “I try to help them before they get to that point. It’s much harder to get them out once they start. But some are reluctant to help themselves.”
Emmery licked the lemon juice off her fingers as she stared at the ground. “That’s awful.” She scrunched her eyes closed, pushing away thoughts of what she had been through—what her sister had seen too. “If I can help, let me know. I want to do anything I can.”
Briar playfully elbowed Emmery with a small smile on her face. “I think we would make a good team, you know? I teach them not to fear their magic too or at least I used to. Since thekhaosflame went out, there have been no children with new powers.”
Emmery tried not to stare at Briar’s burns, focusing on her crimson eyes instead. “Can I—” She swallowed her nerves. “I know we just met, but can I ask a favour, Briar?”
Briar offered her a kind smile. “Go ahead.”
“Can you ... help me with my magic?”
Briar stared at her for a long moment, her throat working.
The fear of rejection pierced Emmery’s chest. “I—I’m having trouble controlling it and Vesper said he couldn’t help me, but—”
“Yes,” she said, cutting her off. “Yes, I’ll help you. Besides, you don’t want Vesper’s help. Trust me. Like I said—loveable guy, not so heavy on the brains.”
Emmery breathed a sigh of relief. “That would be great.”
“And Cal can teach you weapons. I’ll ask him today.”
Emmery’s stomach clenched. Callias and her hadn’t spoken beyond their brief interaction and cold glances. Would that really be the best chance for them to get to know each other? While wielding pointy things? “I don’t know—”
“Nonsense. He would love to help you, Emmy.”
In the distance, shouts and roaring laughter rang out from the trees. Briar rolled her eyes. “Cal and Ves are playing Fireball.” Emmery raised a brow, a question in her eyes. “It’s this stupid game we used to play as kids.” Briar stood and brushed off her trousers. “Want to come play? It’s ridiculous but also ridiculously fun.”
Emmery hesitated. Perhaps it would be a good chance to lay down some groundwork and gain trust. Especially with Callias’s cold demeanour. Maybe he would warm up to her if she joined them. “I’d love to.”
EMMERY WATCHED CLOSELYas Callias worked, his bronze vestige pulsing. Vesper had raved about how talented he was—channelling his magic into elixirs, balms, and all sorts of medicinal plants—but now she was seeing it for herself. He had buried some seed and pricked his finger, feeding it three drops of blood, his face impassible unlike earlier that afternoon.
Briar was right, Fire Ball had been ridiculous. No one would have guessed the two cackling men were over a hundred years old as they threatened to hurl the ball at each other’s heads like little boys, rather than sinking it into the pit. The fire orb was on a timer, giving them a few seconds to pass the ball before it became too hot or caught fire, but they created this sick competition to see who could hold it the longest. The air filled with belly busting laughter and curses loud enough for even the gods to hear. Emmery mostly watched, listening to the crashing sea nearby though her and Briar stamped out countless flames.
The night before, Vesper shared how he and Iz would go out on a boat or for a dip whenever they pleased. Clearly it wasn’t a childhood meant for her, but he told it with such melancholy longing she felt as if she could’ve grown to like it. Maybe if she was raised here, she would have learned to swim.
Briar shrieked after stealing the fireball and made a run for it, but Callias had tucked her under his arm and threatened to toss her into the ocean. Emmery couldn’t hold back her cackle when Briar sank her teeth into his forearm.
It was bizarre, the way they poked and prodded one another and their easy interactions, like the time apart was nothing. The way the two men laughed, Vesper mussing Briar’s hair, and Briar and Callias finding excuses to touch each other. It made Emmery’s chest ache for something she wasn’t sure.
Quiet now as he worked, Callias was a different man. He spoke in short, quipped sentences when asked about the balm for Aera’s wing and Emmery wasn’t ignorant to his avoidance since arriving at the castle. If she had offended him, she didn’t know what she’d done. Was it because she was an outsider?
Emmery gaped as the stem sprouted from the terracotta pot. Focused on the plant, Callias didn’t react or smile, his vestige pulsing and eyes glowing a brilliant grey blue. Once the stem grew to the length of his hand, he retrieved cutters from the table beside him and snipped it, leaving enough for future growth. He meticulously ground the plant, mixing in several ingredients for the balm and when he finished, he scooped it into a glass jar and handed it to Emmery.
“Apply this to her wing once a day,” he said. “It should heal in a week or so.”
“Thank you.” Emmery took the jar, examining the milky-green contents. “I appreciate you doing this for me.”
