Fear of Fire and Shadow (The Fade #1) - Samantha Young Page 0,81

to get back to Haydyn. And when she awoke … I’d tell her all that had happened. All that I had discovered. That there were good and bad people all over our world—that background, upbringing, and proximity to the Dyzvati evocation mattered little.

I’d lived my life with blinders on, convinced that my harsh jolt out of childhood innocence somehow made me wiser than others. But I wasn’t. I was still a child who’d only been thrust into womanhood on this journey. This journey to save Phaedra from losing the evocation.

A journey that had taught me—I sucked in a painful breath—we didn’t need the evocation. For centuries we’d feared the fire and shadow, the worst of human nature. But that fire and shadow was a part of us, whether we liked it or not. And it roared and crackled to life when people were treated unjustly.

What we needed was a stronger government. We needed to take care of our people, no matter the province they belonged to. The evocation wouldn’t change the issues that made people act out as soon as its strength waned. But perhaps a better governing of them could get us closer to fixing the issues. Get us closer to ridding the world of men like the one who had come upon me and taken me as if I were a body without a soul …

All this I’d tell Haydyn … if I ever got out of here.

With renewed determination, I thumped my bound hands down onto the floor, ignoring the bite of splinters from the wood. I dragged myself along the ground. I didn’t have great upper-body strength but I might have managed more easily if it weren’t for the stinging pain of my feet and the throbbing cut on my breast needling my brain and slowing me down.

I made it to the door, but I was already soaked with sweat. It took another five minutes to wobble up onto my feet so I could pry open the door. As soon as it opened and the fresh forest air rushed against me, stealing me from the stink of the shack, I was submerged in dizziness. I leaned against the door frame to collect myself.

Finally, I opened my eyes. My magic reached out to me, beckoning me back onto the path. If I could manage to hobble far enough, perhaps I could find some way to untie the ropes. Carefully, concentrating, I balanced my body just right and hopped down onto the first step out of the shack. I wobbled a little, making my heart pitch in fear, but I was still standing. I took another breath and hopped again. This time I lost my balance and crashed with a painful “oof” onto the forest floor. A little winged bug stared up at me before flying off. I growled in frustration and tried to pull myself into a standing position. Five falls later and I was back up.

That was the pattern of how my day continued. I couldn’t even remember how far I had fallen, hopped, and dragged myself. I kept freezing at every sound, trying to hear over the blood rushing in my ears. By nightfall, I was covered in sweat and mud and forest. But with no coat and a ripped shirt, I was thankful for the heat of the exertion. The shack seemed long gone now, but still I remained terrified. I had no idea how far I’d traveled.

Night had fallen a few hours past when I heard a loud snap of a tree branch. I stilled, my heart fluttering like a snared animal. I glanced around, trying to see in the dark. A large plant rustled and I whirled around. I could feel eyes on me. Boring into me. Trapping me.

Terror taunted me.

A rush of warm fluid slid down my leg.

The rustle sounded again, another crack of a tree.

Beady eyes appeared in the dark, low to the ground. I let go of my breath, my whole body sagging as some kind of opossum darted out of the bush and away from me. Realization dawned, and I looked down in the dark at my trousers. I could smell the stench of urine.

Silently, I began to cry.

I made another mistake.

Sometime during the late night, perhaps early morning, my mind blank with agony and exhaustion, I had fallen again. I had only intended to take a minute to collect myself. But when my eyes finally peeled back open, it was because a stream of sunlight was begging