Chapter 4 #2
Ember rolled her eyes. “Your mate was being bested by a flock of seagulls, and someone had to rescue him.” She quipped as she sat beside him and hung her legs over the edge of the stone formation.
“I was not,” Fen scoffed, as he crossed his arm and sat beside her. “I had everything under control, thank you very much.”
“You and I have two very different ideas of control.”
Killian smiled, eyes still closed as he soaked in the late afternoon sun. Ember shook her head as she laughed.
Fen scoffed as he stood up and wiped his hands on his pants.
“Care to test that theory?” he asked, as he backed away from the edge and over to the flat piece of grass at the top of Dranganir.
The very top of the formation sat perfectly flat, devoid of any bumps or hills.
When one walked to one of the edges, it sloped downward dramatically toward the ocean right before leveling off at the bottom.
Killian pushed himself up on his elbow and stared back at his friend. “Challenge accepted,” he said, as he jumped up and ran to the center, directly across from where Fen stood.
“Oh, honestly,” Ember sighed, as she rolled her eyes.
Their constant ‘dueling practice’ was getting very old, very quick, and the last thing she wanted to do was watch Fen be bested yet again.
Killian didn’t have much going for him when it came to his family, but the dueling arena in the manor, complete with targets that hexed back, was something he seemed to not take for granted.
“Hit me with your best shot, Vargr!” Fen yelled, as he got in position, “Don’t hold ba—” But before he could finish his thought, Killian fired a stunning spell in his direction, and he fell to the ground.
“Sometimes it’s just too easy,” Killian laughed, as he jogged to his friend and helped him off the ground. “Less talking might help, Kitt.” He grinned.
Fen narrowed his eyes at him as he brushed the dirt off his shirt. “That was a cheap shot, and you know it,” he grumbled.
“There’s no room for honor in war, my friend.” Killian smirked as he dodged Fen’s fist.
“Whatever,” Fen mumbled. “Ember, your turn!” He waved at his sister and pointed to the spot where Killian had been standing.
“Absolutely not,” she replied, as she shook her head, Maia growling along with her. “I do not have a death wish today.”
“If you’re scared,” Killian smirked from above her, “you can just say so.”
Ember cut her eyes at him and then back to her brother who was nodding in agreement. She huffed as she rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the ground, making her way to where her brother was standing.
“One round,” she said, as she held up a finger, “and none of your silly made up jinxes.” Her mind wandered back to the summer before school and how she had spent a full week trying to remove the feathers from her arms. “I will not walk into my meeting with Thea with green hair.”
Fen sighed as he nodded his head. “Okay, fine, standard jinxes or hexes only.”
Ember nodded and took her place, squaring her shoulder and bending her knees as she prepared to take him down in one shot.
“And… go!” Killian shouted, as he slung his arm down.
The next few seconds seemed to go by in slow motion.
“Detenair!” Fen shouted, as he pushed his hand forward and a beam of light shot toward Ember.
Ember quickly flattened her palm. “Proteger!” she shouted, as the shielding spell went up.
The disarming spell bounced off the wall of light harder than expected, and it sent Ember stumbling backwards.
She tried to catch herself, but her foot caught on a rock, and she tumbled backwards.
She was too close to the sloped edge of Dranganir, and she realized it far too late.
Her feet slipped out from under her, and then she was rolling down the hill, over sharp rocks that cut into her arms and legs.
She righted herself just enough so that she was sliding on her back instead of rolling.
She reached out her arms, clawing at the dirt in the hopes that she could grab onto something, anything, to keep her from plummeting into the icy water that lay over the edge of the rock formation.
She dug her heels into the dirt to try and slow her down, but it seemed pointless.
Her heart hammered in her chest as her hands continued to search for something to grab.
Finally, as she neared the edge, she saw a large boulder right at the edge of the cliff.
She used her momentum and threw herself at the rock, wrapping her arms around it in a desperate attempt to keep her body on dry land.
Her hands pressed against the cold boulder, and she felt her right ring finger crack as it hit the surface with a little too much force.
She cried out in pain as she heaved herself back up from over the edge and laid on the grass as she desperately tried to suck air into her lungs.
“Ember!” Fen shouted, as he flew down the hill toward her, Killian hot on his heels. They had the good sense to ride their AirWaves down instead of running after her, and for that, she was very thankful. Fen jumped off his board and dropped to his knees beside her.
Ember’s head spun as she looked up at her brother, tears falling freely down her dirt covered face.
“You alright, Starshine?” Killian said calmly, but his body language betrayed him. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and his brow was drenched in sweat. He knelt beside her and ran his hand over her hair. It was already matted with blood, no doubt from a rogue rock she hit on her way down.
“I’m okay.” She nodded, wincing as she sat herself up. Killian wrapped his arm around her shoulder, gently grabbing her hand to help her stand. She winced and pulled away, looking down to see her right ring finger bent at an odd angle.
And her father’s ring was cracked.
She whimpered as she held her hand close to her chest, and tears streamed down her face faster. “I think I broke my hand.” She winced as she closed her eyes.
Fen threw back his head and sighed painfully. “Oh gods, Mum is going to kill me.”
“Fenrir James, what did you do!” Eira shouted, as she wrapped her arm around Ember’s shoulder and led her into the kitchen.
Ember winced as Eira sat her in the chair and inspected her hand, her pale skin already black and blue up to her wrist. Eira handed her a pain tonic that she pulled from the cabinet, and Ember sucked it down as if her life depended on it.
“Why is it always my fault?” Fen replied, as he stomped into the kitchen behind them.
“In her defense, mate,” Killian laughed, “it typically is.”
“Honestly, it’s no one’s fault.” Ember winced as she waited for the potion to take effect. “We were just dueling on Dranganir, and I slipped and—”
“You were what?!,” Eira screeched. “Honestly, out of all the idiotic ideas you three have had, this one takes the cake.” She cut her eyes at the trio who all looked quickly at the sneakers.
“You could’ve been killed! What were you thinking?
” She let out a sigh as she ran a hand through her unruly hair.
“Can we please keep the bloodshed to a minimum until after Sunday?”
Killian grinned as he nodded. “Sorry, Mum, it won’t happen again.”
Eira cut her eyes at the trio and sighed. “Somehow I’m having a very hard time believing that.”
Ember spun the ring that was now lying broken on the table beside her. Her chest ached as she fought back tears and grasped it tightly in her left hand.
“What do we have here?” Otto said with a gruff laugh, as he entered the kitchen. His smile immediately fell when he saw Ember in the chair, bloody and bruised. “Now what have you done, Mo Chroí?” he asked in a hushed voice, as he knelt beside her and examined her hand and head.
My heart. That’s what he called her, and it made Ember tear up every time.
For such a gruff, burly man, Otto Kitt had no trouble showing his children affection, Ember included.
She crumpled into his chest as he hugged her, tears spilling over her lashes.
He smelled like salt water and fish, courtesy of spending his day at the docks and on fishing boats every day, but Ember didn’t care.
In the moment, she felt safe, and that was all that mattered.
“I broke my ring,” she whispered tearfully. “I broke my dad’s ring.”
Otto gave her a small smile as he rubbed the pad of his calloused thumb across her cheek. “We will go to the blacksmith tomorrow and see what he can do.” He smiled. “All that matters is that you’re whole, Mo Chroí.”
Ember nodded with a half smile as Eira made her way back into the kitchen, shooing Otto out of her way. She rubbed a salve on Ember’s hand and then wrapped it a few times in a large bandage.
“That will have to stay on for twenty-four hours,” she instructed.
“It will give the potion time reset your bone and keep it from moving too much.” She pointed at the boys still staring in the doorway.
“No carrying on while her hand is healing,” she scolded, “and I mean it, Fenrir James. Thea will be beside herself if Ember is in bandages when she arrives Sunday.”
Fen threw his hands up in surrender. “No messing around, scouts honor, Mum.”
Ember chewed at her bottom lip as she held her bandaged hand to her chest. Thea would be there in two days, and Ember still wasn’t any surer now about the adoption than she was when Eira and Otto had brought it up a week ago.
“Go get some rest before supper, love.” Eira smiled. “Fen will come get you when it’s ready.”
Ember nodded as she pushed away from the table, rounded the corner, and headed up the steps, down to the last door on the left.
She sat on her four-poster bed and dug through her bag until she found the paper Dean Moran had handed her earlier in the month.
It was still blank, the only thing she had managed to write was her name.
Ember Lothbrok.
She stared at the name for a few minutes, trying to imagine herself writing her name any other way. She mumbled, “Ember Kitt,” under her breath, rolling the name around in her mouth a few times as she twirled her pen, trying to imagine writing it at the top of her parchments at school.
It didn’t feel right—didn’t taste right in her mouth.
She laid back on her bed, sinking into the pillows, and closed her eyes with a sigh.
She would have to tell them she couldn’t take their name, couldn’t give up that last tangible piece of her parents she was clinging to, if she could even go through with the adoption at all.
She took a breath and blew stray hairs from in front of her eyes.
Maybe it wouldn’t matter. But no matter how much she tried to convince herself of that, the dread rolling in her stomach did not agree.