Page 33 of The Spark that Ignites (Shattered Soul #1)

E verything hurt. Emmery cracked a puffy eyelid, her raw throat burning with each swallow, as she sat up from the enormous plush bed, layered in navy-blue sheets, with more pillows than any one person could need.

The spacious room, fit for royalty, was decorated with dark wooden furniture, a desk strewn with papers, and an indigo velvet chaise. Where was she?

Slumped in a sitting chair, chin tucked, and hood shadowing his face, was Vesper. Black blood and ash splattered his cloak and tunic, their armour and packs piled beside him, yet an array of weapons lingered on his person. His chest rose and fell with even, sleepy breaths.

Emmery frowned, pinching her soiled tunic and wiggling her toes. She didn’t remember removing her boots. Aera snored, burrowing further into her lap as she shifted and the bed creaked. Her gaze darted to Vesper to find him rubbing his eyes.

His voice was heavy with sleep. “How are you feeling?”

“Better ... I think.” The words came out hoarse, clipped, and Vesper raised his brow. “Fine, I’m a little sore.”

She clenched her jaw as she sat up. Maybe that was an understatement. Her body begged her to lay down and never get back up.

Vesper reached to the side table and handed her a glass of water.

She chugged it greedily, water spilling down the sides of her face.

He took the empty glass and perched on the bed, removing his glove to press the back of his hand against her forehead.

He was merely checking her temperature, something no one had done for her since her mother, but she swallowed the lump forming in her throat and unexpected tears burned her eyes.

His faded vestige was barely a white mist over his skin. “You scared me. The venom in that bite gave you quite a fever. But when I found you laying in that meadow, for a moment—well, I thought you were ... dead.”

Shrugging off his cloak, he tossed it aside. Her gaze fixated on his cheek, a bloody gash leaking crimson down to his jaw. It only narrowly missed his eye.

“Hey ... Ves. You’re bleeding.”

His boyish grin pulled the wound.

Emmery winced. “Why are you smiling like a fool?”

“You called me Ves.”

She paused, cocking a brow at him. “So?”

Swiping the blood with the back of his hand, he said, “You’d better be careful, Emmery. It sounds like you’re warming to being friends, giving me a nickname like that. They’re endearing, remember?”

Emmery rolled her eyes. “Did you hit your head too?” Perhaps her plan to convince him to trust her was working a little too well. But the more she could play this part, the easier it would be to steal those items from under his nose. “Does it hurt?”

He shrugged, studying her as if he could see her health. “I’ve had worse. I’m more concerned about this pretty face. Though maybe a scar is the tough aesthetic I’ve been missing.”

Ignoring his comment, she fixated on the gash, feeling a strange pull toward the wound, and despite her attempt to shove it down, her hand lifted, guided to his face.

As her fingers connected, Vesper flinched, sucking in a breath but he didn’t pull away.

Silver threads spilled from her fingertips, her cheek throbbing as the edges wove closed, leaving no trace of the wound behind.

Emmery stared back at Vesper with as much shock as was apparent on his face.

His fingers tangled with hers. “What did—what was that?”

“I—I don’t know. Oh gods ... did I hurt you again?” Yanking her hand away, she blinked rapidly. She was out of control, her magic taking her over at every turn.

“No, you didn't.” He stroked the newly mended skin. “It was like a warm breath and then the pain disappeared.”

She rubbed at her cheek as if she could still feel the phantom wound. “I think I ... absorbed your pain. Is that normal?”

“I know it’s not what you want to hear, but no. It’s not.” Vesper twisted his mouth contemplatively. “On the bright side, we discovered your Hollow magic. But like your flame, this burden is singular. I’m not even sure what it’s called.”

“Great,” she drew out, voice thick with sarcasm. “I’ll add it to my list of strange abilities.”

Emmery fought her knotting stomach, deciding to deal with this like everything else, as she studied the room closer.

Masculine bottles of fragrance and an empty pot that once likely housed a plant, sat atop a chest of drawers and a glass shield with their wolf insignia hung above a cross hatched window.

But it was the countless charcoal sketches of animals, eagle wings, silhouettes of shapely women, and strange dark creatures tacked to the wall with knives that tipped her off.

“I’m—this is your room, isn’t it?” she said, sheepishly.

Vesper gave her a cheeky nod. “But you should know, I’m breaking my rules. You’re the first woman I’ve allowed in my bed.”

She flushed and his eyes roamed over her reddened cheeks, replying with a sly smirk. She wanted to slap it off his face.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered, admiring an intricate drawing of an elk bathing its calf in a river. Feeling a friend would, she commented, “Also, I didn’t know you could draw.”

He fidgeted with a dagger on his belt, looking anywhere but at her. “You never asked.”

She hadn’t asked about a lot. And her hazy memory from the fever wasn’t helping. She wasn’t sure how much was real and what was a twisted creation of her own mind from their trudge through the kingdom.

Emmery cast her gaze down. “So, I remember you carrying me. Walking through the streets. I passed out again when we entered the castle. You don’t still live here, do you?” He couldn’t, right? Not with the state of everything outside the walls.

“No, I haven’t been back since—” He sighed, tugging at his bloody tunic. “Well, since the fire. It’s complicated.”

“It’s a long story, I’m assuming?”

Vesper nodded, his eyes tired. “One for later. But ... welcome to Castle Dusk, I guess.”

“Also ...” Emmery blinked, remembering the four wise violet eyes. “You have a pet raven?”

At that, Vesper huffed a laugh. “That’s Quill. He’s my familiar.”

She arched her brow. “Like a pet?”

“Sort of. I can conjure him with magic, but not all familiars are so easily summoned.” He eyed Aera who rubbed herself affectionately on Emmery. “Kind of like your furry vermin here.”

Aera shot him a sneer, her snaggle tooth appearing, and Emmery bit back a grin. Maybe Aera was her familiar with the way they bonded. She sure followed her around like she was.

“Do you need anything else?” Vesper asked, fingering his bloody tunic. “I smell like the Sachrin Bog. Ugh, I need a wash.”

Emmery studied the dirt crusted under her fingernails, catching a whiff of her own ashen, sweaty odour. “I should bathe too.”

EMMERY LOUNGED IN THE ebony claw foot tub, large enough for two or three people, and ignored the thick layer of dust coating everything.

Curtains bound by silver ropes bordered the cross hatched window revealing the night sky.

How long had she been asleep? Her internal clock was set to time on some other plane.

She toed the magical lever, adding more hot water to the sea of bubbles, as Aera perched on the edge, batting it with a curious paw.

Emmery’s clothes lay in a soiled heap on the floor, the leg torn from the serpent's bite. But after calling forth her Hollow magic for the ugly, red wound, no silver threads responded. Emmery rolled her eyes. Of course she couldn’t heal herself.

Typical. Ducking underwater one last time, pulse hammering, Emmery rose from the tub.

The woman staring back in the full-length mirror was nearly unrecognizable. The rosy birthmark blemishing the lower quarter of her face still remained, but the rest of her skin was a foreign healthy hue—her golden vestige, a gift from the gods, kissing her skin.

Like it was always meant to be there.

The jagged scar over her heart and lower abdomen, from that attack those years ago, never faded unlike the lost memories, lingering as a reminder of what she couldn't have.

She traced her pactum scar as she studied her cavae and zvezda , the same hue as her birthmark, nestled below her collarbones. But what truly caught her eye, thrusting the air from her lungs, was the slithering black mark between her breasts.

A serpent squeezing a heart. The same as Vesper’s.

Shadowheart .

That’s what he’d called it.

Shit , that was new.

As if she needed any more nonsense or magical burdens.

Grabbing an oversized robe from a nearby hook, she cinched it, her hair soaking the back as she threw open the door.

Vesper stood there, hand poised to knock, hair damp, dressed in a pair of dark trousers and a thick beige knit.

Emmery parted the robe to show the black stain.

He blinked hard, eyes wide. “While I do appreciate the gesture, Emmery, there is something to be said about subtlety in seduction. But despite the forwardness, if you insist—”

“No, you buffoon, the mark ,” she whispered loudly. “This was not there before my trial. It’s a Shadowheart ? Isn’t that what you called it?”

His eyes meandered their way up her exposed skin, resting on the shadowy mark between her breasts. Vesper lifted his knit revealing the same mark and smooth lines of his stomach. “Seems we’re twins. Wonder how I’m going to break the news to Izzy—”

“Can’t you be serious for a damn second?” She jerked her robe closed and squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe if she pretended it wasn’t there, it would disappear. “What is it?”

“It’s a long story. One that can wait for tomorrow.” He stalked down the hall. “I’ll show you to your room.”

“You’re kidding,” she spat, her damp feet slapping the ground as she sprinted after him. Vesper didn’t pay her much attention. “You’re not going to tell me now?”

“It’ll still be there tomorrow, Sparky.”

“ Vesper —” she whined.

“ Emmery ,” he whined back, his eyes sliding to her, but they didn’t hold the same amusement they usually did.