Chapter 10
Blaze
Icome to slowly.
My limbs are stiff and sore, my arm throbbing dully, my head still a little clouded by venom.
The hallucinations seem to have subsided, yet one lingers, clinging to the corners of my mind.
While the other visions possessed a hazy, dreamlike quality, this one was clear.
It had been so real. I could feel Fox’s arms round me, could breathe in the fresh-mint-and-pine scent of his warm skin.
His voice was just as I remember – soft, slightly amused.
And the way he was looking at me … it was as if I were the best thing he had ever seen.
I roll over, trying to claw my way out of sleep.
Only when I open my eyes, Fox is still here.
I blink hard, and yet he remains, leaning against the trunk of an overhanging willow tree, the drooping branches forming a curtain of leaves around us.
Shock hits me like a blow to the chest. Before I’m fully aware of what I’m doing, I’m scrambling to my feet, brandishing a moss-covered rock in front of me.
‘Where am I?’ I squeak. ‘What’s going on?’
Fox raises an eyebrow. ‘I see your manners haven’t improved, Storm Weaver.’
‘Where am I?’
‘Are you going to hit me with that?’ He nods at the rock.
‘Not if you answer the question.’
‘Oh, how I’ve missed you and your questions.’
I hold the rock up even higher.
But Fox only snaps his fingers, and it crumbles to dust in my hand. ‘Sit down.’
I stare at him, furious and bewildered.
‘I said, sit down. Please.’
I count an entire minute before I concede. I lower myself unsteadily to the ground, letting out a groan as I gingerly probe my brow. ‘Everything’s spinning.’
‘Put your head between your knees.’
Reluctantly, I do as he says, resurfacing a minute later to resume my accusatory glare. ‘What’s going on?’ I demand. ‘Why am I here?’
‘What’s going on is that you were bitten by a venomous snake, managed to stumble your way out of the Ridge, and then collapsed in the forest,’ he tells me matter-of-factly. ‘You’re here because I found you and patched you up. You’re welcome, by the way.’
I stare at him, then glance down. Sure enough, my shirt sleeve has been ripped to the shoulder, the wound on my forearm thickly bandaged. Several pots and tinctures are neatly arranged on the carpet of moss, each labelled in lazy, looping handwriting.
Of course. I remember now.
Cleaver. Slaver. Hunter. Healer.
Fox watches me, his expression unreadable.
It’s strange seeing him dressed like the Fidra and not in Terrathian green.
Yet even in a pale fawn-coloured shirt and ragged trousers, he is still utterly, irritatingly beautiful.
His sun-gold skin is a shade deeper, his dark hair slightly longer and just as untidy as ever, and his eyes, fringed by thick lashes, manage to make the bright hue of the leaves overhead appear dull.
He still wears that little hoop earring, though I’m not surprised to see that his signet rings – one engraved with the Castellion raven, the other with the Calloway falcon – are absent. Too conspicuous.
‘But – but what are you doing here?’ I ask. ‘How did you even find me?’ Taking a deep breath, I try to piece it all together, retracing my steps back through the Ridge tunnels. I recall a rubble-strewn chamber, a smouldering beast, a burst of flame …
My stomach plummets.
‘Flint,’ I breathe. ‘Flint. He’s still in there. He saved me. We have to go back. Now. He could be hurt, he could –’
But Fox holds up a hand, silencing me. ‘Your brother’s alive.’
‘What? Is he here?’ I look around frantically, as if half expecting to find Flint curled up like a cat beside the bag of medical supplies.
‘No,’ Fox says, snuffing out my brief spark of hope. ‘But he’s not dead. I promise.’
‘What are you talking about?’ I almost yell. ‘How can you possibly promise that?’ Confusion turns to rage. I grit my teeth, hauling myself to my feet once more. ‘Actually, I don’t have time for your games. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to find my brother.’
Fox rolls his eyes. ‘Storm Weaver.’
I ignore him, drawing back the curtain of branches.
‘Storm Weaver.’
I hesitate for a moment, then turn back. Fox watches, with an undeniable air of satisfaction, as my face floods with shock.
He grins, letting the Eye of the Past swing back and forth on its chain. ‘You didn’t really think I let my uncle take the real one, did you?’