Page 25 of The Incendiary

“Not particularly.” She looked self-conscious as I surveyed her room. “Why?” she asked, as if it was insignificant.

About her, nothing was insignificant, and what she had to be self-conscious about, I didn’t know. Because fuck, it was extravagant in here. Objectively beautiful? Sure. But stuffy. This room’s main redeeming quality was that it smelled like her. Strawberries, sunshine, and everything perfect.

“What flowers do you like?” I asked.

Her frown faded as she contemplated. “Blue ones, I think.”

I grinned. Blue used to be my favorite color until I saw her eyes. Now, it was green.

“How much time do you spend in your bedroom?” I peered over the edge of her bed at a pile of open books. Some pages had tears, and most of the spines were bent and worn from overuse.

She rubbed her elbow. She was nervous. “A lot.”

“Have you been practicing what I taught you?”

She folded and unfolded her arms. Another anxious tell of hers. “Yes.”

“Where? And with who?” Irrational jealousy clouded my vision.

“In here mostly. With myself.” She looked like she was afraid it was the wrong answer.

I stepped closer, and when she didn’t retreat, I gently grasped her wrists and stroked the soft skin beneath the heel of her hand, right over the thrumming pulse that reminded me she was real. “Do tell me who ever made a girl as beautifully miraculous as you feel the need to shrink herself.”

Her lips parted in surprise. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

I repressed a growl. Maybe she shouldn’t tell me who. I would hunt them down.

“You have nothing to hide and no reason to cower,” I answered, hands shifting to her shoulders. “Remember that.”

Her grateful smile had my anger slowly subsiding. That was until a gust of wind rustled the rose-colored curtains hanging on the window, revealing… No. There was no way. They wouldn’t do that to her, would they?

“Are those fuck—” I bit back the profanity, cleared my throat, tempered my rage, and lowered my voice. “Are those bars on your window, Ella?”

She looked and frowned. “Yes.”

“Why?” I snarled, the fury in my bones so overwhelming I feared I’d frighten her with it if I wasn’t careful. “Why are there bars on your window?”

“They’ve never really told me,” she answered too calmly. Not nearly angry enough. “They’ve been there since I was a little girl. I assumed it was just because they didn’t want anyone climbing up and inside the castle.”

I wanted that to be true. I wanted to believe it was solely for her protection, but not one other room I passed had bars on the windows, nor did the windows in the hallways or stairwells.

It wasn’t someone coming in they were afraid of.

“What’s wrong?” Her brow knit together in concern.

I gritted my teeth, unsure how to answer in a sane manner. No wonder she’d snuck into the city weeks ago. They kept her in a fucking cage.

Resolve cleansed my mind of everything but her. Protecting and cherishing her. Fighting for her. Before everything and everyone else. Who was putting her first? Her wants? Her needs? I didn’t understand how someone could want to give her anything but the world on a silver platter.

I would do it myself, whatever it took, even if it made me insane. If sanity was living without her, I didn’t want it.

“Come on.” I grabbed her hand and made for her bedroom door. “We’re going to do something fun.”

“No.” She withdrew, despite the twitch of her lips and the excitement glinting in her green eyes. “I think you’re trouble.”

“You know, I think you’re right.” Her withdrawal felt like a punch to my gut, but I wasn’t easily discouraged. “I’ve always been trouble, and I’m positive I always will be, even with your good influence.” I offered my hand again and softened my eyes and voice, trying to ease her nerves. “So show me where else in this castle you like to go, and come be trouble with me.”

Her longing expression nearly put me on my knees. I’d never been looked at with such light. Such hope. She glanced at her pile of books, the bars on the window, then the door. I refrained from scooping her into my arms and running off. Like usual, she wore every emotion she felt, and the fear trying to dull her hope became my worst enemy.