Page 20 of The Spark that Ignites (Shattered Soul #1)

T he morning didn’t greet Emmery kindly and when sunlight struck, she groaned, smothering her face with her cloak. Good gods, even her eyes hurt. But really, she only had herself to blame.

Aera stirred beside her. The fox had kicked out in the night, stealing more of the bedroll than Emmery could spare. She let Aera take it though, fearing her injured wing hurt.

The pressure of the trial sat on Emmery’s shoulders as she dreamed up horrific scenarios, but she didn’t have a choice. Per the pactum, there was no way out.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Vesper chimed, grinning and nudging her with his boot. When she responded with a nasty word, he toed the empty canteen beside her bed. “You know, if you hadn’t drank all that, you would probably be a little happier to see me.”

Great . She could look forward to his cheeriness each morning. Fucking morning people. “It’s too early. Go away.”

Emmery buried herself under the blanket, but it was the rustling of paper that seized her attention.

She sprang up in her bedroll, her head swimming as she squinted against the morning light.

Her stomach dropped when she saw the black binding and yellow wrinkled letters in his hand.

She snatched them away. “Don’t go through my things. ”

“What are those?” he asked, his brows creasing.

“They’re private.” Emmery clutched the letters to her chest, cradling them like sacred treasure. “And none of your business.”

Vesper gripped the back of his neck with guilt written all over his face, and unspoken words between them, like his throat overflowed with them.

Emmery’s cheeks flamed with exasperation and betrayal. “Did you ... did you read this?”

“No. Well, only one. I’m sorry—”

“ Vesper. ”

Emmery drew her knees to her chest, hugging herself for some semblance of comfort.

He had no right to go through her things and violate her privacy like that.

How much did he know now? And it was hurt that twisted her gut—that he read her intimate thoughts.

The binding was one thing, a creative outlet that was only embarrassing, but the shame she spilled into those letters wasn’t something she wanted shared. Ever .

“Look—” The skin whitened around the grip on his neck. “If you ever want to talk about your sister—”

“Not even a little,” she snapped. Emmery carefully slid the binding and letters back into her pack and took a cleansing breath before adding, “Don’t ever go through my things again.”

Vesper nodded but clearly wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“When I lost Izzy ... things were bad.” He fiddled with the strap on his gloves.

“And I felt a lot of guilt. I still do. For a long time, I thought it should be me, not her and I battled with that.” He speared a hand through his hair and sighed. “Is that why you’ve been drinking?”

Her rib cage squeezed the air from her lungs. How could he just ask her that? First, he went through her things and now this. Gods, did he think he was a shrink ?

“My drinking is none of your concern,” she shot back. “In fact, none of this is. Not my letters, not my drinking, and certainly not my sister.”

This was unfair and violating and all the sentiment she’d felt last night vanished in a wisp of smoke. Especially if he was going to keep pushing her. What right did he have to do that? There was only so much she could bear or would expose and this ... wasn’t one of those things. It never would be.

But Emmery exhaled her anger. It wasn’t worth it.

“I just—I don’t understand you, Emmery. But I’m trying.” He gave her a sheepish look with such pity saturating it, she had to look away. There was nothing she hated more than pity. “I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have read that.”

“It’s not your job to understand me.” Emmery rubbed her eyes until she saw stars. They’d known each other for what ... a few days? Where was this even coming from? Ready to be done with this conversation, she added, “I forgive you. But don’t go through my things again.”

Emmery studied her feet to find the skin newly mended. Wiggling her toes, she marvelled at the painlessness of the movement. She supposed she had Vesper to thank for that.

And his shoulder appeared to be back to full mobility. Wow, he healed fast. She’d always healed quickly but not like that. Maybe she would after she got her magic. Which would be today. It felt unendingly ... surreal and nerves wriggled in her gut.

“I already have the trial to worry about,” she stated. “I really don’t need anything else.”

He sighed like he didn’t believe it for a second. “Are we alright then?”

“Yes, yes,” she dismissed, tugging on a spare pair of stockings and her boots. “So, where are we going today? Not another forest I hope.”

Vesper thrust a cuff into her hands. “For the record, this is what I was looking for.”

The band, only two fingers thick, was wide enough to sit on her upper arm. It was a beautiful dainty thing, with ferns and wings etched into it. “What’s this?”

“Another gift.”

“You should stop spoiling me. I’m getting accustomed.” She admired the cuff and stood from her bedroll.

He laughed softly. “I like spoiling you. Tap it three times.”

With a skeptical look, she said, “If it’s a trick, Vesper, I swear—”

“Trick? Me?” A mischievous grin. “Never.”

With a tired sigh, Emmery tapped a finger to the cuff and Vesper simultaneously did the same on the band circling his bicep.

The wind whipped, loosening her messy braid, as white and black specks materialized and collided, drawn by a magnetic magical force.

Spectral steeds appeared, stomping and throwing their heads back in soft whinnies.

Emmery stumbled back, tripping over a rock and falling on her ass. Vesper threw his head back and howled a laugh to the sky. Her responding glare shut him up and he turned to the steed, clamping his lips shut though his eyes watered like it pained him.

Vesper quieted the stunning ivory one by holding its face and whispering something in its ear.

His other hand absently stroked the onyx shadowed one’s muzzle.

It regarded him with icy glowing eyes overflowing with affection.

Recognition. Like they shared a long history, one that could fill copious pages of a book with countless tales of his reckless adventures.

Emmery’s experiences with horses were limited to a few rides over long stretches between the provinces.

All the horses were tamed to the point only a broken look remained in their eyes.

These horses didn’t give the same impression with their palpable wild energy.

Even if they weren’t exactly horses per se.

Or alive at all? She was beginning to sense a trend with Vesper and dead things. Should she be concerned?

He led them over and wisping colour trailed their playfully flicking tails.

Emmery sheepishly got to her feet, gathering her dignity.

“This is Balthasar,” Vesper said, stroking the black horse's muzzle. The horse pushed greedily against his hand. “And this”—a gesture to the ivory horse—“is Juno.” He stroked her nose, and the steed closed her eyes, her skin rippling. “She’s yours.”

Aera clawed incessantly at Emmery’s leg until she scooped her up onto her shoulders. Emmery stared at Juno, her hands clenching and releasing. “You can’t ... give me a horse.”

“I just did. You can pet her, Emmery. She’s friendly.”

Worried it would bite her, Emmery cautiously extended her hand, half expecting it to pass through, but Juno eagerly stepped forward and met her touch with her soft muzzle. The tension fled her body, and Emmery released a long breath.

Juno’s violet eyes met hers and sparked a memory, wrestling it from deep within her. “When I was a child, I had a stuffed unicorn named Juno. It was white too,” she said, almost to herself. “I lost it a long time ago. Dropped it in the market one day, I think.”

It brought a curl to her lips followed by a pang of sadness.

There were so many holes in her memories after wandering those woods for two months and yet, it was pieces of her childhood like these that she remembered—useless bits holding no consequence, unlike those months she wandered with her belly slit open, chest agape, and lifeblood spilling out.

Perhaps her mind suppressed it to protect her.

Her attention snapped back to Vesper. He pet Balthasar thoughtfully, his face unreadable.

Emmery ran her thumb over the strange etchings on the cuff, tilting it in the sunlight. The foreign language sang to her. “What does it say?”

“It says: a rider is chosen, in Sellidic. At least that’s what the woman who laced the souls to the cuffs said. It’s used for enchantments. Some northerners speak it fluently but it’s more common for idioms. Sort of a dying language except for those with the blessing of charm.”

She slid the cuff over her sleeve until it hugged just above her bicep. Her forefinger skimmed the text hidden on the back of her mother’s pocket watch. The letters were similar enough to assume it was the same language. But what did that mean?

“I meant to ask where you got that. And your ring. That’s a blood ruby,” Vesper said, nodding at the red, oval stone.

The shadow steed rested his head on Vesper’s shoulder, and he gave him an affectionate pat.

Eyes trained on the pocket watch, he said, “You see that green-grey tint of the metal? It’s called sellanium.

It’s incredibly rare now but hundreds of years ago it was used to enchant items. Deimos’s mausoleums are built from it too. ”

“It was my mothers. She gave it to me before she passed.” Her mother offered little explanation, only telling her to hold onto it. Emmery flicked open the watch—its odd feature to fold into three unique circles—before closing and tucking it away.

Emmery added, “The ring is from a friend.” Since the day Fionn gave it to her, she hadn’t removed it. Some small part of her couldn’t even though he was gone. Vesper eyed the ring like a coiled snake ready to strike.

Standing beside Juno, it became clear what a monstrosity she was—not nearly as large as Balthasar but her torso hovered above Emmery’s chest. She reached for Juno’s neck, but there was no saddle to grip and no stirrups. Her hands slipped and she nearly lost her footing.

Vesper chuckled, an impish smile on his face as he watched her struggle. “Need a boost?”

“I’ve never ridden a horse this large.” She patted Juno’s muzzle with a trembling hand and added, “Not that you aren’t perfect the way you are.”

Could the horse tell she was nervous? Why were images of her flying off its back into some nasty brush full of thorns running through her head? Aera’s claws dug in as Emmery failed twice more before turning to Vesper.

Thankfully, he didn’t pick her up like a child. “Step off my hands.”

Emmery pushed off his woven fingers and swung her leg over Juno. She had never ridden bareback and the broad stretch in her thighs told her she wouldn’t be able to walk right for days.

Vesper swung onto Balthasar like he’d done it a thousand times. “Follow me. We’ll head into town.”

With a cluck of his tongue, Balthasar took off, racing along the dirt path. Aera’s squeaked in Emmery’s ear as they thundered after them.