Page 75 of The Spark that Ignites (Shattered Soul #1)

T he King of Thorns was right; Fionn was in bad shape.

Emmery knelt at his bedside and clutched his hand as she traced the serpent tattoo coiling his fingers and wrist. He lay unnervingly still; his sallow eyes relaxed in a cavernous sleep.

His blue fingernails appeared badly bruised and his bloodless cheeks were dotted in small pricks of sweat.

If she hadn’t found his steady pulse, she would have thought him dead.

But as she examined the delicate roundness of his nose, almond eyes, sharp cheekbones and that crooked smirk—

How had she not seen that he and Briar were siblings?

Emmery pressed his cold, limp hand to her forehead, counting each of his ragged breaths in time with her own.

What if he never woke up? What if the last memory would forever be before the war?

They had never said their goodbyes. But she’d never been particularly good at them anyway.

Emmery’s vengeance had cost her this friendship and so much more. Because maybe he would have brought her back over the gate if she hadn’t run. Maybe she would never know now.

It now made sense why he never came back, though it didn’t hurt any less.

I waited for you ; she wanted to scream. I waited for you to come back, Fionn .

Emmery startled as a strange white serpent slithered out of the covers, splaying its feathers in place of scales. It hugged Fionn’s bicep and flicked its tongue inquisitively but didn’t come closer.

Destonne’s light footsteps echoed on the white tile as he entered the room. “How is he?”

“You tell me,” she replied bitterly. Forehead still pressed to Fionn’s hand, her words muffled into the bed. Likely best he couldn’t see her leer. “He’s been in your service.”

“I know how much you love to point fingers, but this wasn’t me.”

The corner of the mattress sank with the King’s weight. He hadn’t cared to wipe away the blood smearing his face and neck and must have come straight from the meeting.

And as Destonne studied Fionn, the tiniest fragment of emotion emerged and vanished too soon in his obsidian eyes. “But clearly, I’m not doing a good job watching over him.”

“He’s not a child.” Emmery turned over Fionn’s hand and dragged her thumb across his knuckles. “Why are his fingernails blue?”

Destonne brushed a stray black lock of hair from Fionn’s forehead, and the act was so caring, gentle even, she gaped. “Do you remember what I pulled from your pocket that day in Malheim? It’s called bone ash. An extraordinarily nasty substance. Easy to overdose.”

Words slipped through the cracks in her mind as she stared down at Fionn’s helpless face. That wasn’t the Fionn she knew. He’d never even touched a drink in his time with her, let alone drugs. Though realistically, he’d lied to her, and they had only known each other for a little less than a year.

A question shaped her lips, but Destonne spoke first.

“He’s been clean for some time. This was his longest streak.”

Emmery perched herself beside Destonne, folding a leg beneath her. “How long has he been asleep?”

“About ten days.”

“He’s been sleeping for over a week ?” she nearly gasped.

“Bone ash is vile. Not only is it highly addictive and potent, but it’s extremely easy to overdose. The highs can last months, depending on how much you take. He’s still lost in one.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you—?”

“Never.” He shot her the same look. “No need to look at me so judgmentally.”

Despite his denial she wasn’t sure she believed it.

He had stolen the bone ash from her that day.

Who’s to say he didn’t use it? And really, how did she know that Destonne hadn’t been the one to give Fionn the bone ash?

The thought twisted her insides with so much rage she had to look away and focus on anything other than the King.

Emmery’s eyes grazed over the empty air around Fionn. She remembered Briar saying he was Hollow like her. “He doesn’t have a vestige,” she observed.

“Isn’t it obvious? Fionn is Forgotten.” The pompous tone was less than helpful.

Was that why he never showed his magic? Why he kept it a secret from her? Emmery stared at Fionn as if she could extract the answers from him with merely a look. When that obviously didn’t happen, she wove her fingers together and squeezed until her knuckles were bloodless.

Studying her hands, Emmery asked, “It wasn’t a coincidence that I met Fionn, was it?”

“No.” A stray curl fell across his forehead.

Her breath thinned, fearing both the question and the answer. “So, we were friends? Before, I mean.”

Could all of this have been a lie too? Did Fionn care about her at all? And if he did care, why hadn’t he come back for her? If Vesper had found a way, surely Fionn could have as well.

“You two were close,” Destonne said simply. “He spoke fondly of you. And when he came back alone, he was rather upset.”

Relief flooded her, whether it was true or not. Fionn’s cobalt blue set of matching trousers and button-up brought a smile to her lips. “You know, he’s always been a sharp dresser. Even on the brink of death, he has better taste than me.”

After thoroughly guilting Emmery for biting him, Brennen had given her pack back. She was all too relieved to slip out of that sheer dress.

Destonne raised a brow at the ruffled, brown trousers and black tunic she had thrown on—the only clothes Briar had packed. “I’m sorry to break it to you, but I don’t think that has to do with his fashion sense.”

Without thinking, Emmery slugged him in the arm.

The smile fell from her lips as she realized what she’d done, and an icy wave of dread washed over her. Emmery braced for his reaction—a blow back, one of those cold looks he’d given Vesper, perhaps even a swift trip down to the dungeon.

Destonne merely rubbed his bicep, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You’re stronger than you look.”

Emmery didn’t know what to say, how to process the calm, unbothered reaction. In fact, there was even a slight glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Once again, she merely sat there mute and balked at the inconsistency of his character.

After clearing his throat and breaking that lengthy silence, the King asked, “Will you stay here long?”

Emmery’s heart hurt at the idea of leaving. The bed was quite small but maybe she could squeeze in next to him. After all these years apart, thinking Fionn was dead, they would have to tear her away. “I want to stay until he wakes up,” she said.

“I suggest you get comfortable then. But at least you’ll have good company.

” Destonne stood and strolled to the door, swinging it open to release a bounding Aera.

She launched herself into Emmery’s arms, showering her in kisses, spittle flying everywhere, and her wagging tail battering Emmery’s arm.

A sigh of relief escaped Emmery, an exhalation of all her surmounting problems. She clutched Aera to her chest, that familiar calm her companion always brought soothing her heart. “Where did you find her?”

“When Brennen retrieved you at the temple, she wouldn’t let him touch you. But once my other men showed up, she flew off. She wandered her way back with Vesper. Apparently, he wouldn’t carry her. Something about her biting him?”

Emmery huffed a laugh. Served him right.

But when Aera leapt from Emmery’s lap, clawed at Destonne’s leg, and he slung her over his shoulder, she just stared.

The gesture was so casual . Aera even nuzzled his cheek.

Destonne strode across the room and kneeled, giving Aera the perfect angle to leap back to her.

“You’re free to roam the castle as you please,” he said, “but you’re not permitted to leave the walls on your own. Either Brennen or one of my men will accompany you.”

Emmery drowned in Destonne’s endless dark gaze while he read the lines of her face like the pages of a book. After all he’d done to the Merikhs, his ruthless reputation, and wickedly terrifying control, she didn't know how to feel, but some tiny part of her was morbidly fascinated.

Likely because he was dangling what she wanted right before her face.

Her memories.

They would provide answers to everything. Her past with Vesper, Fionn, Briar, Callias, and a chance to find Shade. If she could find Shade and fulfil this damn prophecy, it would all be worth it.

“I’ll do it.” The word slipped softly between her lips.

“Do what?” Destonne whispered, blood trickling from his temples.

“I’ll make a bargain with you. Seems you didn’t need the fancy pitch after all.” She stroked a mindful hand down Aera’s back. “What do you require in return?”

A glimmer of something flashed in his eyes. “I need your magic to help me get mine back.” Destonne yanked his collar aside.

There was ... nothing. No cavae or zvezda . Only blank, scarred skin.

That black crystal dangling from his neck glinted with malice.

Her ears reddened at his exposed clavicle. “H-how?” she managed.

He yanked his shirt back. “A pactum I made long ago. That brilliant golden flame of yours seems to be my only option. Since barriers don’t stand a chance against it.”

“You’re not the first.” Emmery narrowed her eyes. Something wasn’t adding up. “So, what was the bargain you made? It must have been quite the trade if your magic was the cost.”

“So nosey.” He tsked softly. “Sadly, I don’t recall. It was lost with the bargain.”

Emmery paused, fidgeting with her ring. The blood ruby winked back at her, secrets hidden within its red depths.

If she was going to do this, she would do it right. Be smart about it.

“What do I have to do?” she asked, ready to sift through his words for any hint of trickery.

Destonne stood and paced the room. “I’m not entirely sure yet, but one thing is certain—we’ll need to enter the Hollow.”

Her blood froze in her veins. “As in ... where Hollow go after they die?”

“Precisely. You merely need to get me in there to retrieve the pactum and I’ll do the rest.”

Emmery snorted. “You make it sound so simple. Not dangerous at all.”

“I would ensure you’re protected, of course. You’re safe under my watch, remember?”