Chapter 51
Blaze
Over the past few days I’ve searched Brava high and low for the missing Eye. I’ve combed crags and clifftops and rocky mountain passes, shallow pools, hollows and caves. I waited desperately for a sign, a pull, a whisper – anything at all to indicate it was nearby.
Nothing.
I’m beginning to wonder whether the Eye is even here, or, worse, whether it’s anywhere.
During my lessons with Queen Hydra the furthest I ever transported that silver teacup was to the opposite side of the room.
Was I a fool to believe I had somehow managed to subconsciously send the talisman halfway across the empire?
Hope is a dangerous thing. It can be misleading – a trick of the light.
Still, I’m not ready to give up. Not yet.
The sky is a painting. Colours bleed into one another, smudging the canvas with shades of lilac and gold. Another day is drawing to a close. The sun refracts through my dragonfly’s gossamer wings, turning them from transparent to kaleidoscopic.
I grip the saddle with my knees, my curls streaming out behind me as we plunge down a steep cliffside before gliding through an echoing gorge, our elongated shadow skimming silently across the surface of the Creek far below.
I began my search at dawn. Alone, this time. It was Fox who suggested splitting up. He said we would cover more ground that way. I agreed, especially since with the Eye of the Past round his neck Fox is just as likely to be drawn towards Syla’s talisman as I am.
Though part of me wonders whether his sudden desire for solitude has anything to do with our conversation in the graveyard.
I shudder.
Hal, cursed.
Hal, dying.
Now more than ever before it is imperative I find the Eye. I might be airborne, but the weight of that responsibility seems to pull me down towards the very depths of the earth.
At that moment I feel … something.
I tense, scarcely daring to believe it, but there it is again – a faint tug on an invisible tether.
My heart leaps.
Tightening my grasp on the reins, I steer my dragonfly over a rocky valley and land smoothly on a jutting ledge.
I slide from its back, anticipation pounding in my chest. I’m standing on the verge of a small cliffside pool.
The water is perfectly still, glittering emerald in the evening sun.
Only that’s not what makes my breath catch in my throat.
Fox is facing away from me, elbows propped on the stony edge of the pool as he gazes out at the view beyond.
His dark hair glistens, droplets clinging to each curling strand.
I can see the muscles cording his golden, scar-flecked arms, rippling up his back.
Heat spikes in my stomach when I notice he’s wearing nothing but his undershorts.
‘Are you going to stand there staring all night, or are you going to come and join me?’ Fox asks without turning round.
A blush stains my cheeks, as warm as the setting sun. ‘The Eye …’ I begin.
His tone grows hopeful. ‘Have you found it?’
‘No, but I felt it. Or at least, I think I did. Whatever it was, it led me here.’
Fox finally turns. I concentrate very hard on not letting my gaze flicker any lower than his chain. He glances down at the pool, then back up at me. ‘Here?’
I nod.
‘I don’t see anything,’ he says slowly.
To my disappointment, neither do I. The water is clear enough that I would be able to spot a glimmer of gold at the bottom. Perhaps the Eye is lodged under a rock?
I untie the rope at my waist and let it fall to the ground. ‘Turn round,’ I order.
Fox’s vaguely puzzled expression shifts. He blinks twice, then his lips curve upward.
‘And lose the grin,’ I add as I kick off my boots beside his own discarded pair. ‘I just need to make sure.’
He raises his arms in surrender and swivels back round. My mount makes a low clicking sound, then soars up to join the second dragonfly circling lazily high above.
I keep my eyes fixed on the back of Fox’s head as I undress.
I decided to dress like the Singers as a mark of respect, but the truth is I feel at home in these garments.
The swathe of pearly fabric is a nice change from the scratchy linen of Fox’s old shirt, even if it does lack that fresh-mint-and-pine scent I’ve grown worryingly attached to.
I step out of my clothes and wet my lips nervously as I peer down at the slip beneath, which is as thin and white as paper.
I’m simply looking for the Eye, I tell myself as I perch on the edge of the pool. As soon as I ascertain it’s not here, I’ll go.
The water is silken and cool. I let out a gasp as it licks up my stomach, then fold my arms across my chest as Fox turns to face me.
The last dregs of golden sunlight glance across his face, illuminating the angular ridge of his cheekbones and the shadow of his lashes.
His green eyes latch on to mine and linger. A muscle pulses in his jaw.
I duck beneath the surface before I can make the mistake of blushing twice.
As expected, the Eye isn’t in the pool. Maybe I was mistaken? What if that curious tug I felt was merely a figment of my imagination, brought on by sheer desperation?
I break the surface, breathless and disgruntled, and toss my dripping hair over my shoulder.
Fox is leaning against the edge of the pool. ‘It doesn’t matter. We’ll try again tomorrow.’
‘Except it does matter, and we don’t have an infinite supply of tomorrows,’ I snap.
‘I’m beginning to wish I’d never found the Eye in the first place.
Why did it call to me, anyway? Why did Syla choose me?
Is it because I’m Demari, like Senna? Or that our ancestors hailed from Thresk?
Or because the Singers have decided I’m some divine saviour? ’
‘Perhaps,’ Fox muses. ‘If Seera saw you coming a long time ago, maybe Syla felt … connected to you in some way.’
‘Your grandfather told me I reminded him of her,’ I say, unable to suppress a shiver.
‘Did he?’ Fox winds his gold chain round his forefinger, the Eye of the Past glinting as it catches the light. ‘I wish I could speak to him.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I can’t shake the feeling that there’s still something I’m missing. One final piece of the puzzle. But since I don’t know what I’m looking for, I can’t find it.’
‘You mean to say there’s something you don’t know about me?’
Fox rolls his eyes. ‘How many times do I need to tell you that I’m sorry?’
‘Once more wouldn’t hurt.’
He lets out a long-suffering sigh. ‘Fine. Sorry. Better?’
‘Not really.’
‘Listen, Blaze – I’ve told you everything I know. That is, everything I know about you.’
‘Oh, and how many other people’s secrets are you carrying around like a bag of coins?’ I ask derisively.
He smirks. ‘Are you jealous? I’d rather like it if you were.’
‘Would you?’ I challenge. ‘And why is that?’
Fox’s amused expression fades. He rakes his fingers through his hair, his gaze charged with such clear-cut sincerity it seems to spear me straight through the chest.
‘I think you know why,’ he says.
My heart throbs, each beat as loud and furious as a thunderclap.
The shock must be written across my face, because Fox raises an eyebrow ever so slightly and adds, ‘Come on, Blaze. It’s not like I tried to hide it from you.’
I stare down at the jewel-green water.
It’s true that he never attempted to conceal his … interest in me. From the moment I met him he has sought me out, watched me with an intensity that felt intimate. No, his interest was undeniable. It was the motivation behind it that I questioned.
I used to wonder whether Fox’s attentions towards me were his way of provoking his brother. A game, a ruse, but never real. Then I considered whether he was simply using me to get to the Eye, but he had every opportunity to take it for himself and didn’t.
Yet during all this time spent alone with him in the Wildlands, I found myself wondering whether his feelings might, in fact, be genuine.
I’ve caught him stealing glances at me, his eyes soft and searching, and when he kissed me in the forest I felt the racing of his pulse beneath my palm, the hunger with which he crushed his lips to mine.
He has healed me, comforted me, cared for me, fought for me. But he has also goaded me, tricked me, abducted me, and worst of all – he’s lied to me.
‘I can’t trust you,’ I mumble.
‘Then tell me how I can prove myself,’ he counters. ‘I already bent the knee. What else do you require? A blood oath? A vow of allegiance?’
‘Honesty.’
‘You want me to be honest?’
I nod, a little warily.
‘All right.’ Fox draws himself up to full height and moves closer.
I don’t back away. I hardly dare breathe.
‘If I were being honest I would tell you that I think about you all the time,’ he says.
‘I’d tell you that I think about your hands and your mouth and that little crease you get between your eyebrows.
I’d tell you that I think about the way you say my name and the way you’re looking at me right now.
And I’d tell you that I reckon you think about me, too. ’
His words scorch my skin. They burn right through to the bone. I press my lips tight together and say nothing, which is a bit like saying everything.
Fox shrugs a shoulder. ‘You said you wanted honesty.’
‘This isn’t … We’re not …’ I trail off weakly, eyes downcast.
He angles his head. ‘What’re you so afraid of?’
You, I think.
But it’s not quite as simple as that. I’m not afraid of Fox the way I used to be, when he was nothing more to me than the Earth Cleaver, the most dangerous boy in all the realm.
Now I know that boy. I know his secrets, I’ve seen his scars, and in spite of everything I care about him.
And admitting that feels an awful lot like handing him the power to hurt me.
How could I possibly entrust him with my heart when he’s proved himself all too capable of dishonesty and deception?
I gaze out over the ledge at the watercolour sky, the peach-pink clouds, the dragonflies circling the summit of the rocky mountain.
All in all, a rather fitting setting, since being with Fox has always felt like balancing on the edge of a cliff.
Yet these past few weeks something has shifted, and I can’t seem to work out whether I fell, or if I jumped.
Either way, I’m falling.
‘Blaze,’ he says softly.
I swallow, tilting my chin to look at him, then wish I hadn’t. I might be unwilling to trust him, but there’s no use in denying how devastatingly beautiful he is. So beautiful that sometimes, when he looks at me like that, my traitorous mind wanders to forbidden places.
Slowly, he reaches out a hand, fingers sliding through my damp hair and cupping the nape of my neck. He strokes the pad of his thumb along my jaw and my eyes flutter shut, my lips parting – whether in surprise or invitation, I can’t be sure.
I should fight this, I think, as I lean into his touch.
I should push him away, I think, as I pull him closer.
His other hand finds my waist. I can feel every ridge and groove of his chest, smooth and hard like marble. I’m dizzyingly aware of just how little clothing separates our bodies – my slip is indecently translucent, clinging to every inch of me.
He’d let me go if I told him to. I could leave right now if I wanted. But what would be the point? I might be able to run from him, but not from how I feel.
‘What’ve you done to me?’ Fox murmurs.
I could ask him the same question. My heart writhes the way it does when I’m faced with danger. How foolish must I be to want something that frightens me?
This is a risk. He is a risk.
His gaze drops to my lips. ‘Scared, Storm Weaver?’
‘Yes,’ I whisper, and kiss him.
This kiss is gentler than the others – tentative and feather-light, sending sparks skittering across my skin.
Of course I’m scared. I’m scared to trust him. I’m scared this is going to end in regret. But most of all I’m scared of how much I want him.
Because I do. I do want him.
I want him so badly I could die.
Suddenly, without warning, the pool begins to churn, the water turning from cool to warm to piping hot.
I gasp and lurch backwards. At once the temperature drops.
Fox is staring at me, his eyes wide with astonishment. ‘Was that … Did you just simmer?’
I blink, dazed. Of the four water gifts, simmer skimming is the only one I haven’t mastered, since I still haven’t been able to figure out which emotion it’s anchored to.
My mind wanders back to my conversation with River when I asked him what his anchor was for simmering. He said some anchors tend to run in families. And right now, what did Fox just say to me? What did I just admit to feeling?
Scared, Storm Weaver?
Understanding cascades through me. That’s it. That must be my anchor – fear.
Only, it doesn’t quite make sense. I’ve experienced fear plenty of times before now. What was it about this time that …
And then it hits me.
I think about the way Fox makes me feel. The heat that flares in my cheeks, burns at my core, builds to a blazing inferno with every kiss, every touch.
I was wrong. It’s not fear itself but a fear of something. Something feverish and devouring that I’ve tried to suppress. Something that, just now, I finally surrendered to.
My anchor to simmering – it’s desire.
The corners of Fox’s mouth quirk upward.
Either he’s figured it out too, or he’s simply amused by the mortified expression etching itself on to my face.
But before I have time to decide which it is, his arms encircle me, lifting me up against his chest so that our eyes are level, his glinting wickedly, mine painfully unguarded. So much for burying my feelings.
The next kiss steals the air from my lungs.
I feel a tightening in my lower stomach as I wrap my legs round Fox’s waist, his tongue dancing against my own.
To my horror, the water responds with enthusiasm, roiling and frothing as it begins to heat.
I curse, and Fox chuckles softly as he trails his mouth down my throat before nipping at my shoulder.
His lips are just brushing mine once more when I draw back with a chastising look. ‘Lie to me again, and I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.’
He scoffs as he hooks a stray curl behind my ear. ‘That’s not very inventive.’
‘Fine,’ I say, lacing my fingers round his neck. ‘Lie to me again, and I’ll drown you in this pool. Or feed you to my dragonfly. Or strangle you with the cord of my dress.’
Fox’s answering smirk makes my toes curl. ‘That’s more like it.’