Page 35 of The Spark that Ignites (Shattered Soul #1)

C astle Dusk was untouched, unlike the city outside, other than a few broken pictures, copious cobwebs, and the same musty, abandoned odour like that of her cottage.

Aera toddled along, occasionally nosing the back of her leg to remind she was there.

Mirrors lined nearly every wall, a feature she’d somehow missed as Vesper had carried her inside. Had she been that delirious from the fever not to notice? A chill snaked her spine as her reflection followed her.

As Emmery wandered the castle, opening the windows to cleanse the dead air, she searched for Vesper within these walls. To understand him or perhaps feel his childhood here.

The throne room, offshoot from the main entrance hall, was brightly lit with large windows and ashy marble floors.

The throne itself was cut from blackened stone with splatters of white like stars, their insignia etched into the backrest. A gold-flecked stain of blood caught her eye, raising the hair on the back of her neck but Aera didn’t seem to mind as she leapt onto the throne and perched herself like the princess she was.

“Aera, down!” she snapped, shooing the fox away. Aera merely shot her a defiant look, her teeth hooking over her lip, until Emmery snatched her into her arms and strode from the room grumbling her disappointment into the fox’s ear.

Adjacent was the ballroom, elegant and warm with its velvet blue carpets, dark wood trim, and crystal tears hanging from each of the black iron chandeliers.

But it was the floor to ceiling stained glass window that made Emmery’s heart slow.

The window sang stories of life and beginnings, tragedy and ends, with two figures she could only assume were Deimos and Kahlia, their backs turned to one another.

An ebony table, the length of ten horses and the wood of the Sacred Land’s trees, dominated the dining hall branching off the ballroom.

Emmery ran her hand along the length of it, dust gathering at her fingertips, as the thundering clang of pots and pans chased by colourful curses, bled through the walls of the kitchen.

Emmery jumped, her eyes darting to the door. When had someone else arrived? The castle was empty last night.

“Vesper?” a woman’s voice called. “Give me a hand, you prick.”

The door swung and a woman with flawless ebony skin, and silver threaded black hair knotted at the nape of her neck, stared back at her.

The woman gaped at Emmery for a rigid moment, likely realizing that she was not Vesper, before crossing the room and yanking her into her arms. With a yelp, Emmery tensed before sinking into her soft body.

A maternal quality lingered in that embrace like her mother’s bear hugs and spurred an ache in her chest.

“Apologies. I’m a hugger.” She held Emmery at arm’s length and squeezed her shoulders. “My name is Marlys. And you” — the woman dropped her hands—“must be Emmery.”

“Nice to meet you,” she managed, though the embrace left her mind whirling. Was everyone this forward? She glanced at the kitchen in disarray. “Did you just arrive?”

“This morning per Prince Vesper’s message.

I was the cook for Castle Dusk before—” She broke off.

Before the fire, Emmery assumed. The woman gave her a grin accompanied by smile lines and crow’s feet that spoke of joy.

As if on impulse, Emmery searched for a vestige, cavae or zvezda . None were visible.

“Do you need help?” Emmery asked.

Behind Marlys, a young woman and man, likely siblings with similar hair and complexion, meandered around one another in the kitchen as if they’d done it for hundreds of years.

“No, no. You go and relax, dear. I heard about the ordeal you went through.” Marlys waved her off. “Can I make you something? We have fresh eggs. An omelette perhaps?”

Emmery’s stomach grumbled. How long had it been since she’d eaten, let alone since someone cooked her a meal? “I can’t tell you how happy that would make me.”

A smile crept onto Marlys’s lips. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.

You haven’t tasted it yet.” Emmery’s reply was stifled by another hug right before Marlys spun her toward the door.

“Feel free to continue with your day, Miss Emmery. I will find you when your food is ready.” The door swung closed as another pot clattered to the ground, followed by muttering about secrets and orders.

“And if you see that damn Prince, tell him Marlys’s patience is running thin! ”

The west wing housed rooms for many purposes: sewing; a forge, and even a colossal training room lined with multiple practice dummies.

She stumbled upon the library last. More books than anyone could consume in a lifetime stuffed the shelves stretching to a glass ceiling spiderwebbed in rainbow streaks. Aera leapt from Emmery’s shoulder, bounding through the library like a racetrack. Her heart palpitated as she took it in.

Emmery padded along the plush blue carpet and ran her fingers along the spines, waiting for one to call to her.

Settling on a decrepit novel on Kenna history, Emmery curled into a velvet armchair.

Marlys delivered her plate shortly after and Aera surveyed it with hungry eyes as Emmery, lost in her research, let it go cold.

Hours later, Vesper cleared his throat in the doorway, eyeing the snoring Aera in Emmery’s lap. “I thought I might find you here,” he said, giving her one of his famous grins.

“It’s a good escape.” Emmery peeked from behind the book. “You have quite the library.”

“That we do. Unfortunately, the value is lost on me. I’m not much of a reader.”

“I assumed you couldn’t read, but now that you’ve admitted it—”

“ Very funny .” He shoved his damp wavy hair aside and tugged at his ivory button up and dark wool trousers as if they strangled him.

His chest and hips seemed naked without his weapons but despite the clothes tailored for his body, he squirmed as if he wore a costume.

Sauntering to the chair, he plucked the book from her hand, bent the cover, and eyed it curiously.

Emmery winced and snatched it back. “Don’t do that. The books don’t like it.”

Vesper’s lips twitched. “The books don’t like it?”

“Yes, they ... get rather upset.” Emmery smoothed the creased cover and set it on the side table. “I met Marlys this morning. She was nice.”

“Maybe to you.” Vesper snickered. “She was my father’s right hand though she would never claim to be more than a cook. Modest, that one.”

Emmery nodded. Good for Marlys. However, her lack of visible magic gripped Emmery’s curiosity. “I noticed she doesn’t have a vestige,” she blurted, her voice low.

Vesper busied himself with his sleeve cuffs and rolled them up his forearms. “She has the blessing of fire but was never beckoned. She’s Forgotten.”

“Thank you for telling my life story.” Sarcasm was heavy on Marlys’s tongue as she strolled into the library, shooting an unimpressed look Vesper’s way.

“Though I prefer to tell it with more feeling. Maybe shed a few tears.” Her brows pulled together as she spotted the untouched omelette. “Did you not like it, Miss Emmery?”

“Oh no, I—” Her stomach twisted. How had she forgotten when Marlys went to all that trouble? Emmery grabbed the plate and shovelled the food into her face, the savoury eggs, cheese, and mushrooms exploding on her tongue.

Vesper watched in awe, and a bit of disgust, as she scraped the plate clean. “Are you going to lick it too?”

Emmery shot him a glare. “It’s not like you bothered to see I was fed.” She placed the plate into Marlys’s outstretched hand and mumbled her gratitude around a mouthful.

“You are very welcome, Miss Emmery.” The smile fell from her face as her eyes slid to Vesper. “I need to speak with you privately.”

Clasping his fingers behind his back, Vesper looked the image of princely authority and unnerving ease. “It’ll have to wait an hour.”

“Vesper—please.” Her low, urgent voice caught his attention. “I need your assistance.” The air pulled taut by an invisible string as Emmery’s attention darted between the two.

Finally, Vesper ran a hand down his face, sighing. “I need a minute.”

“Thank you,” she said with a side of snark and Marlys gave Emmery a polite smile before heading back to the kitchen.

“I like her,” Emmery said, side eyeing Vesper.

“Of course, you do,” he grumbled, rubbing a hand down his face. “You both enjoy vexing me.”

Emmery stood and paced the library, eyeing the painting of a lake of blood that sent a chill down her spine.

There were several others, including a snapshot of the Sacred Lands, but it was the family portrait that caught her eye.

The older man with shoulder length black hair, shared the same sharp features and cut jawline as Vesper.

Dressed in a decadent jacket, cape, and trousers the same colour as the ballroom carpet, he was certainly the king.

Surrounded by a deep purple vestige and adorned by a star flecked obsidian crown, his image screamed authority.

Vesper stood alongside with his haloed vestige and an unusually serious expression.

On his arm was a thin female with curling black hair to her waist and a vestige the same lavender as her eyes.

This woman’s features were nearly identical to his but softer, delicate—more feminine.

The zvezda , cavae , and Shadowheart peaked out of the deep plunge of her black dress.

This was undoubtedly Izora Merikh.

“Gods, your sister was beautiful,” she whispered as Vesper filled the space beside her.

He snorted, shoving his hands into his pockets. “She got the looks in the family.”

Emmery elbowed him. “Don’t be jealous. You’re pretty too, Ves.”