Page 8 of The Incendiary

Damond wasn’t a lethal warrior. He called himself a pacifist, but Gavin had taught him, too. He’d been young when his parents were murdered by the Butcher under Molochai’s blood oath. Soon after, Gavin had trained Damond to defend himself. The two of us often sparred until neither of us could stand straight.

But I couldn’t hide here and spar with him forever. Molochai was still looking for a way to take my power, since killing me didn’t work.

Blood, pain, and screams gave way to soothing night when a warm, wet, sandpaper tongue on my cheek woke me from a nightmare of Molochai slicing through my torso from breast to navel. Through the dark, I found a pair of shining, violet eyes. Shera’s claws flexed gently against the bare skin of my collarbone to make sure I was awake.

She mewled at me gently.

I struck a match in the dark and lit the candle on my bedside table, casting the room in a warm, comforting glow. Using Helios or Aesta’s power would have been faster and easier, but my body felt too on edge to wield. I wouldn’t risk burning the cabin down or blinding myself.

Forcing steady breaths, I fell back onto my pillow and threw my arm over my eyes. No matter how many powers I mastered, how fast I ran, how strong I became, I couldn’t escape that night or the truth of who I was.

Only when Shera nudged the back of my hand with her nose did I realize my fingers were digging into the long, pink scar down my abdomen where Molochai had cut me open before tearing out my heart.

“Thank you.” I relaxed and scratched Shera between her tufted ears the way she liked. She blinked slowly, her violet eyes a soothing balm to my tension. How could an animal so lethal take such care with me? She was a miracle. “What would I do without you?”

Shera stretched alongside me and nuzzled into my hip. With spring in bloom, the weather was mild, but her heat provided much needed comfort while I slept. This bed was warmer and softer than my bed of blankets in Warrich, but somehow, it felt cold. I hated sleeping alone more than ever.

Shera’s purr swelled and grumbled as I rubbed the cloudlike fur on her chest. Her paws had grown to be the size of my hands. Her claws extended and retracted, gently kneading around my forearm. Occasionally she would leave a scratch, but the discomfort was worth it to ensure her happiness.

Outside the window, distant pink hues above the dense canopy of trees told me it was nearly dawn. Light flickered beneath the closed door of my bedroom. Damond didn’t sleep much, but it was still odd for him to be awake at this hour. I climbed out of bed and padded across the wooden floor with Shera in tow.

He sat on the sofa, transfixed by the fire beneath the hearth. When he heard me approach, he left his quiet reverie and looked up. “Night terror?”

I nodded. Damond knew better than to ask for details.

“Why are you up?” I tightened my sweater around my front and sat down, legs crossed beside him.

He was silent for a while. “I’m worried,” he admitted.

“About… him?”

“No.” His light brown eyes softened. “About you.”

But I looked away, in no mood to hear his objections. While dropping my gaze to my lap, I noticed his left hand was wrapped in a cloth bandage.

I gestured to it. “What happened?”

Damond scoffed at his bandage and ran his uninjured hand through his curly hair. “Cutting vegetables. Wasn’t paying attention. It’s just a cut.”

“Let me.” I reached, but he pulled away.

“No, Ary.”

Leaning forward, I insisted, “If it’s just a cut, it won’t take much power.”

“You need your strength.”

“But—”

“No.”

“Damond, why⁠—”

“You know why.” The words sternly snapped out of him, uncharacteristic of my lighthearted, witty friend. “I made a promise and I’m keeping it.”

Gavin made Damond vow not to let me use my healing powers on him, or anyone, unless a life was at stake. Of what I’d discovered thus far, my other powers didn’t take much out of me. For some reason, healing drained me like losing blood.

Defeated, I slumped in my seat and said, half joking, “I thought I was in charge, anyway.” The tap of my fingers on the wooden arm of the sofa echoed in the cabin. “Since I’m the queen and all.”