Page 5 of The Incendiary

Ella rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. “How long do you need to make me a weapon?”

My eyes darted to the brand-new dagger resting in its fresh leather sheath on the table beside my bed. I had started on it immediately after she’d left the previous night and finished it hours later, just before dawn. I’d hoped getting her what she needed so quickly would deter her from seeking help elsewhere.

Now, I was worried she would just take it and run.

“Tomorrow,” I replied. “Come back tomorrow, and we’ll start.”

“I’ll try. My uncle is… controlling. I’ll have to sneak out.”

“Just tell him to fu—” I cleared my throat. “Tell him to shove off.” It was the nicest way I could express how I felt about anyone keeping her away from me.

“They mostly leave me to read quietly, anyway. In my room or the library.” A coy grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. “It makes my absence slightly less noticeable.”

“Sneak out as often as you’d like,” I encouraged her a little too eagerly. I was about to be a terrible influence. “I’ll be here.” I took a chance and embraced her, thrilled when she wrapped her arms around me and placed her cheek just below my sternum. I rested my lips in her hair and breathed in her sweet aroma. I didn’t want to let her go, but I needed to give her time.

To earn her trust. Maybe even her love.

In less than a day, I’d become undaunted by that word. She had awakened something gentle and good within me, and my soul needed it. It needed her.

After she left, I discreetly followed her up the winding hillside road to the castle. I kept my distance, and when she reached the small bridge between the path and the main castle grounds, I stopped and watched her sneak through a side door.

Knowing she was safe in the castle, I was able to sleep that night. But the sleep I did get was interrupted four times by dreams of her. In my favorite dreams, I just held her. And while I lay awake, I thought of the decision my heart had already made for me.

I planned on loving Aryella Whitlock until the end of time.

TWO

ARYELLA

I’ll never forgive myself for letting you believe, for a single second, that my heart could ever beat for anyone but you.

—FROM THE BUTCHER OF NYRIDA’S LAST KNOWN LETTERS TO QUEEN ARYELLA I

I craved anything that made me feel alive.

The icy rain on my skin. The sharp, splitting pain in my shins each time my feet pounded on the uneven forest floor. Crisp air filling my lungs. The chirps and trills of birds searching for mates. The rich smell of spring moss and fresh soil, ready for creation and growth. Shera, my eight-month-old umbra, running with me at my side.

Craving life felt reasonable for someone who’d come back from the dead. And I’d spent the last four months of life sorting through what was real.

Ten months ago, I’d been living in a daze. I’d believed that my parents were Phillip and Elowen Gold; that their five-year-old son, Oliver, was my brother. When Phillip and Oliver were killed, Elowen left me alone in the wilderness. Even then, I didn’t doubt that she was my mother.

I’d been starving to death when a group of strangers arrived to help me. They told me I was the Queen of Nyrida. That my true father was Simeon Whitlock and an ancient prophecy said I was fated to marry a great leader and save this world.

But even that was a lie, created to control me. Simeon was not my father but my uncle. He’d stolen my memories long ago. And claimed me as his own so he could marry me off to an ally, Commander Elias Winterton, to secure his power and keep me from the man I once loved.

Gavin Smyth.

Even Gavin had kept my identity from me.

My stomach growled, pulling me back from stewing on their lies.

In the past, I might have ignored my hunger or let it swallow me whole. Now, I listened to my instinct. I ran on, and the chimney smoke from our log cabin soon came into view. That meant Damond was awake and already cooking.

“Gods bless you, Damond.” His cooking kept up with my training regimen. I was strong now, not brittle. Toned where I used to be too thin. Solid. Quick. And my favorite thing? I could run for four hours without stopping.

Shera and I burst through the cabin door. The wind slammed it shut behind us. Damond sat at the table, hands folded in front of two breakfast plates. Mine, fresh and untouched. His, nearly finished.

“You have another message from your uncle.”