Page 104 of The Incendiary

I missed her. I missed her in ways I didn’t know one person could miss another. It hit me at random times throughout the day like a battle-ax to the gut, had me keeling over, clutching my chest and ready to tear out my own heart so I didn’t have to feel this way anymore.

She was the other half of me—the far better half—and I felt the loss of half my soul and all my heart in every breath I took. It was agony. It was hell.

I wasn’t going to last much longer.

I had no true intention of letting her go. But she needed time, and if I was going to find a way to convince her uncle to let me marry her, then I needed time to come up with an impenetrable plan that he couldn’t reject.

And if he did reject it, I would fucking try again.

Meanwhile, I busied myself at my forge. It was the safest place to take out my frustrations and get so far ahead on orders that I began to panic at the thought of having nothing left to do. Vic came by a few times to tell me I looked like shit and needed to bathe. Both things were true. I didn’t care.

Tonight, the damp, heavy air of late Soltum cast a grim, lazy pall over the city. Something had felt off all afternoon. I felt even more weary than usual in her absence, worn down from a persistent, nagging ache that kept reminding me that I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. With her.

I lifted my hammer, but panicked shouts in the street had me stopping mid-swing. The roaring flames before me paired with the violent rain outdoors prevented me from deciphering the words outside. I stepped back, away from the forge, until I could.

“Queen Christabel has died!”

“The queen has died!”

My hands, one gripping an iron rod, the other holding my hammer, fell limply to my sides. A relentless wave of dread enveloped my heart.

Her mother.

“Ella,” I choked out. All I could think about was her heart, broken and tired, as she cried alone in her room and mourned the only parent she had left.

I should have fucking been there for her. I should never have let her be alone. She needed me now more than ever.

I should be there now.

“Fuck!” I tore off my apron and turned to find her standing in the doorway, soaked to the bone, eyes red from tears, full of fear, and staring at me like I was the only thing in her world.

“Ella?” I breathed, overcome with shock. Was I hallucinating? Had I gone so insane without her that my mind was playing tricks on me to survive?

But I watched the frantic rise and fall of her chest to ensure she was breathing. Short of touching her with my own two hands, it was all I could do to ensure she was real.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked, cheeks pale, gaunt, and streaked with tears. “I couldn’t leave my mother up there alone, and Simeon threatened…” Fear widened her eyes. “I’m sorry I left you,” she cried brokenly. “I’m so sorry.”

In the same breath that my hammer hit the floor with a clang, I covered the ground between us and caught her leaping into my arms. She gasped into my shoulder like she’d been holding her breath since the day she tried to end us.

“It’s okay.” I cupped her head as she buried her face in my neck. “I’ve got you,” I whispered, lips pressed into her hair as she shook with quiet sobs. “I promise, my love, I’ve got you.”

We rested in each other’s arms. Being without her felt like suffocating, and I was finally breathing after weeks with no air.

I pulled back and removed her hood, assessing her for damage. She had lost weight. There was no sign of visible injury on her face or neck. No bruises, no signs of a fight or struggle, but her skin was pale from lack of sunlight, and her eyes were red from endless tears I hadn’t been there to dry.

My stomach soured when I looked down to find her hands wrapped in cloth.

“Did he lock you up?” I asked.

Her bottom lip quivered. She blinked out a tear and nodded.

“Fuck,” I breathed, brushing the soaking wet hair from her cheeks and refusing to let my own tears escape. For her, I’d be strong. “How’d you get out?”

She carefully unwound the cloth bandage from her hands. “I’ve always agreed to take the suppressing potion, knowing it’s necessary to keep everyone protected, but the last couple of days, I’ve dumped it. The fire doesn’t normally burn my hands when I wield it, but I had to keep my hands close to melt the bars, and the heat got out of control and backfired… but it worked.” She sniffed and dragged in a shaky breath. “And then I climbed down and ran to you.”

Bright red palms, swollen and blistered, trembled in the air between us. The burns were bad. Not deep enough to scar, but having spent my whole life around a forge, I knew how much they must fucking hurt. I hoped her healing power could remedy this. Erasing her pain was the only thing that mattered.

I pressed my lips to her forehead. “That’s my girl,” I exhaled shakily, then breathed her in. The scent of her in my lungs to keep the rage at bay.