Page 12 of The Incendiary

“Listen.” Damond drew my attention back to him. “I know you don’t want to admit it, but Simeon⁠—”

“Let’s not talk about him and say we did.”

“You need him, Ary.”

I didn’t answer, though I knew it was true.

Healing was what I practiced most beyond my elemental abilities. Once I figured out what it felt like to have the elements flow through my veins and memorized each sensation, I summoned power like I summoned my next breath. Wielding wasn’t the problem, so I sometimes felt like I didn’t need Simeon. I had done a decent job at accessing those elemental powers on my own, along with camouflage and healing, but that left four more to be discovered.

Not to mention my control was lacking. I’d been told Simeon had been afraid of me once, that I hadn’t been able to control these strange powers inside me. Now it was clear why.

Months ago, I’d been able to access my power only when I was angry or desperate or panicked. The only reason no one had been harmed while I practiced was because I did so only with Damond standing at a distance.

“Maybe you should just talk to your uncle,” Damond suggested, stepping closer. “The next time he sends a note, maybe⁠—”

“We don’t even know where the hell he’s been! And why, for a second, would I even consider believing a single thing that liar tells me?”

“Because right now, all you can do is reach inside that wheel of yours, grab the first element you see, and risk destroying everything within a mile radius.”

I glared at him, chest heaving. “I haven’t destroyed a thing.”

Damond’s eyes drifted to the grove of trees I’d decimated a week prior.

“That was once,” I objected. In fact, I’d lost control four times in a row, engulfing them with flames, drenching them with water, icing them over, and finally blasting them to smithereens with Sussurro’s wind. “One day.”

Damond huffed out a laugh. “I know you’re angry. You have every right to be.” He rested his hands on my shoulders. “But at some point, you’re going to have to accept that Simeon, despite the deceitful prick he is, has over four hundred years’ worth of knowledge about that power running through your veins. You need each other.”

I stared down at the hands I once felt ashamed of for being so small and frail. They didn’t look much different save for some scrapes and calluses, but I was learning to use what I had for myself so that no one else could.

“He needs me,” I repeated, not to deny the other truth but to ensure I never forgot the first.

I woke up the next morning with a sour ache in my gut. Nervous anticipation made eating breakfast a chore, but I forced down every bite knowing I’d need it for the journey ahead. Elias Winterton and his soldiers would not be expecting a young rogue from Brinnea, and I was not expecting the warmest of welcomes while in my disguise.

That was fine. As long as they didn’t succeed in killing me.

Fear rarely dulled Damond’s warm brown eyes, but this morning was different. He sat across from me, swirling a spoon in his coffee mug. Knee bouncing, body restless.

“Do you know what you’ll call yourself?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And you have a backstory?”

I nodded.

“Be careful on the road. Molochai’s beasts roam freely and in much greater numbers farther south.”

“I know.”

One way that Molochai used his dark magic was by corrupting and enhancing a natural creature and turning it into something wholly unnatural. I’d only ever seen one, in northwest Wymara. Scaled and black with at least a hundred teeth and blades for claws. I’d drowned it with the power of Rainar before it could slaughter the man I thought I loved.

“Ary, there’s no telling how many of them⁠—”

“I know.”

His lips tightened into a thin line. “And you’re sure you don’t want me to come with you, just for part of the journey?” He eyed me worriedly behind his circular glasses. “I can circle back just west of the Barracks. They won’t see me⁠—”

“No. Thank you.” I finished my water and stood from the table. If I waited any longer, he’d find a way to talk me out of this. “I’ll have Shera.”