I am… drawn to you. But I don’t want to hurt you. Because my heart belongs to another.”
Fenix sat back and looked out across the moonlit vista again. “He is a lucky man.”
She shifted, tucking her legs under her. “Perhaps in another lifetime things would have been different. Between us.”
His gaze returned to her, intense, as his skin took on its signature glow. “In another lifetime, there still can be.”
She tilted her head in question.
“I’m not giving up on you, Mooriah. I will return here. I will come back every ten years, at midnight on the day of the Frost Festival. I will wait for you.”
Her heart clenched, and she shook her head. “Please don’t. It would be a waste.”
“No, it will be a hope. And sometimes hope is all you need to keep moving.” He pierced her with sharp eyes that made her chest ache. She did not want him to suffer, but there was no way she could give him what he wanted.
He began to glow even brighter, shifting into his other form, the one made of light.
“Fenix?”
“Yes?” His voice came from a luminescence too bright to meet head on.
“Thank you again.”
The light bobbed in acknowledgment and then raced away into the night.
~ 13 ~
Elevation of Cheer: Raises sunken spirits and provides warmth when cold.
Combine three pinches salt bronze and half a palm’s worth of crushed water blossom petals. To avoid overheating, use only fresh blossoms, not dried.
—WISDOM OF THE FOLK
Ember rolled over, pulled out of sleep by a sound he couldn’t place. Memories rushed back, flooding him with vivid images and recollections of intense pain. He sat straight up with a gasp and clutched his stomach.
Only to find it whole. He ran a hand over his chest and abdomen, but the skin was perfect, unmarred. Even old scars had disappeared. His coloring was also higher, he was nearly glowing with health. A sense of wonder settled upon him.
He lay before the firepit in his nanny’s old dwelling. Movement behind made him tense, but he turned to find Mooriah, pouring steaming water into two drinking bowls. She beamed at him.
“Welcome back.” She brought the bowls to him and sat beside him. “Here, drink this,” she said, passing him the fragrant tea. Its scent was comforting, reminding him of his mother and being taken care of when he was sick as a child.
The bowl warmed his hands, and he focused on that as he gathered his thoughts. “What happened?”
“What is the last thing you remember?”
“The match. I struck Rumble—a killing blow. That should have been the end but… He stabbed me. There was… poison.” The memory of pain assaulted him, but he pushed it back. Did he feel disappointment over his brother’s betrayal? He wasn’t sure, but he certainly was not surprised. He should have expected as much from him.
She nodded solemnly, blowing on her own small bowl. “The wards could not have held up against poison. Especially not a poison of the blood. There is no protection for such.”
“So how am I alive?”
Instead of looking at him, it seemed that she was looking anywhere else. Why was she avoiding his gaze? He leaned closer to find tears welling in her eyes.
“I’m sorry that I failed you.” She shook her head, staring at her tea. “And my chance at becoming clan is gone.”
His chest tightened with disbelief. “Why would you think that?”
She swallowed and shakily told him of what Glister had done. How Mooriah had arrived in the arena to find him near death and had lashed out with her power, knocking out the entire clan.
“After this,” she said, sniffing, “I am certain none will feel safe around me.”
Ember set his tea down and put an arm around her, pulling her close. She buried her head against his chest, wetting it with her tears.
“You have not been back there?”
“I brought you here once Fenix healed you. I didn’t want to return until you’d awakened.”
At the mention of Fenix, his mouth grew dry. “The sorcerer healed me?”
“I could not let you die, Ember. I know you don’t think much of his manipulating life and death, but you should not have died. It was not your time, and your blood was not in service to the Mother. I will not apologize for saving you.” She pulled back to glare at him, her jaw set.
He fought a smile at her mulish expression. “I will never ask you to. I’m grateful to you. Thank you. I suppose I owe the sorcerer a debt