15. Flames of Memory
Flames of Memory
Larissa
L arissa knew it wasn’t real.
Even as Queen Stjarna, draped in a black veil of mourning, took her hand, Larissa knew she was dreaming.
Standing on the shoreline, they watched a volley of flaming arrows soar toward the burial boat.
The smells of burning oil and wood thickened the air.
Queen Stjarna wiped the tears that gathered in her brilliant green eyes.
“Death is a normal part of life, my darling. All we can do is honor those who go before us.”
“L ara! Why isn’t she waking up?”
“She inhaled a lot of smoke and suffered a tremendous shock.”
“I can’t believe she killed that thing. I thought we were all dead. I take back every bad thought about that sword.”
“She’s stronger than she realizes. She’ll be alright.”
Larissa could hear the voices. She wanted to respond to them, but her tongue felt thick and her head even more so. The cool soil beckoned her back to that peaceful darkness.
Wake up, Larissa.
There was that voice again.
“Who are you?” Larissa reached for the source of the voice, only to be met with silence.
“She doesn’t remember us. Did she hit her head?”
At the sound of Halla’s frantic voice, Larissa forced her eyes to open.
Three faces hung in her view beneath a still-dark sky.
Clearly, she’d only been unconscious for a moment, yet her head reeled between dream and reality.
Darien and Anara smiled in relief, whereas Halla still stared at her with pinched eyes.
Larissa raised her hand to tug on the burned remnants of Halla’s braid. “I remember you just fine. I’m fine.”
“You’ve got more than a couple of bumps and bruises,” Darien objected.
Larissa could feel them. The burns stung, and the large cut on her face and neck throbbed with pain. Examining Darien, Larissa saw he was no better off. Scrapes and bruises darkened much of his exposed olive skin, and he held his left side to support what were probably cracked ribs.
He’d come for them.
Warmth grew in Larissa’s stomach at the thought, comforting and unsettling all at the same time. Darien had helped save Halla twice. Did he know the worth of his actions? Halla was her heart, and by proxy, he had saved it. She could never repay that debt.
Anara coughed, dragging Larissa’s attention away from Darien. “We have to go. Someone will have noticed the smoke by now.”
“Larissa needs medical attention. She can’t go anywhere like this,” Darien argued. He gestured to Anara. “Look at us. None of us can.”
Anara’s left shoulder hung at an unnatural angle. Halla’s face and arms bore patches of burned skin, particularly her blistered hands. Larissa’s cheek and neck were still covered in blood. Darien’s breath hitched with every move.
Anara grimaced at the lot of them and rose to her feet, her left arm swinging loose at her side. With her right hand, she grasped her left wrist, held the arm straight out, and yanked forward until there was a loud and abrupt pop. Anara’s head dipped as she hissed through bared teeth.
Darien’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think that will work for the rest of us.”
Anara exhaled, raising her head. “I’m aware. I’ll be back. Wait here.”
He flung up his arms, looking around. “Where would we go?”
Anara turned, her body shifting. She landed on four paws and bounded across the field, disappearing back into the trees. Larissa watched her, her own consciousness at war within her.
They’re real, she thought. Pappa’s stories are real.
But then her thoughts turned to Pappa and Mamma, and Larissa forced her mind to think of Anara instead.
Larissa didn’t trust her— couldn’t trust her.
The Rubinian could change her appearance at will, yet Larissa couldn’t deny the truth.
As assuredly as she owed Darien, Larissa also owed Anara a debt for Halla’s life, and she would never be free of her duty until her debts were repaid.
Stifled sobs drew Larissa’s attention from the trees. Tears ran unchecked down Halla’s cheeks, her freckles shimmering underneath.
Larissa struggled to sit, gasping at the pain every movement caused. Darien supported her from behind, prompting a new wave of gratitude. Larissa reached for her sister. “Halla—”
“I thought you were going to die too,” she croaked.
Pappa’s and Mamma’s faces, twisted in death, flashed before Larissa’s eyes. Swallowing the pain, she took her sister’s hand in her own. “I’m right here, Halla. I’m not going to die.”
“It’s my fault.”
Larissa brushed back Halla’s hair, tucking it behind her ears. “It’s not your fault. The draugr killed them, not you.”
“It killed them because of me!” Halla’s voice broke.
“I came home, Larissa. You told me that it was safe.
When I got here, there was a sentry outside the house.
She shouted at Mamma and Pappa. I knew I should run and hide, but I was so scared that she would kill them for hiding me.
I ran out and told her to take me, to just leave them alone.
Then she sniffed me, Lara, like a dog! She said she was sent for me.
“Then she turned into that monster. Pappa told me to run. I didn’t want to leave them, Lara, but he told me to go. I ran, and I grabbed the gun from the barn, but I was so scared. I could hear the fighting. I could hear the draugr screeching and then Mamma screaming.”
Darien’s eyes filled with sorrow as he stared at Larissa over Halla’s head. Larissa knew then that he had hoped the same thing that she had, that Halla hadn’t been present for their parents’ death. How very wrong they both had been.
Sobs punctuated Halla’s words. “It killed Pappa first; I could hear Mamma crying. Then I didn’t hear anything anymore. It wasn’t until I smelled the smoke that I heard Onkel Tucker crying out, but then he was gone too. And it’s because of me. It’s because I came home!”
Careful to avoid the burns, Larissa cupped her sister's face in her hands with as much gentleness as she could muster. “Halla, you listen to me. This is not your fault. You did nothing wrong.”
“But they’re dead, aren’t they?”
“Yes.” Larissa knew better than to hesitate, to offer that hope.
It seemed impossible that Halla’s tears could flow more quickly, and yet they did. “Why did you tell me to come home?”
“That would be my fault.”
Anara returned, looking surprisingly healthy.
Her arm seemed to be working at full capacity, and even her bruises had lightened.
She carried two large bags over her back, dumping one at her own feet and the other next to Darien.
“I shifted into looking like Larissa. I sent you home so that I could speak with your sister alone.”
“You tricked me?”
Anara rummaged through the bag, a sheet of black hair covering her face. “Yes. It was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Larissa’s voice was laced with venom. “Our parents are dead because of you.”
“Your parents are dead because of the draugr .” Anara’s words were calm even as her hands paused in their search. “What would have happened if you had gone back with Halla? If I hadn’t intervened? Do you think the draugr wouldn’t have killed you all?”
“You could have warned us!” Larissa clenched her hands. Even in her weakened state, she couldn’t help imaging how it would feel to hit Anara, to make her share this pain.
As if sensing her thoughts, Anara stopped searching the bag, meeting Larissa’s glare. “You think I knew? If I’d known the draugr was here, I never would’ve sent Halla back!” A growl laced Anara’s voice. “If you think I’d ever put you or Halla in danger, you really don’t remember anything.”
Larissa clenched her fist. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Digging through her bag with savage efficiency, Anara removed a tiny glass bottle filled with dark emerald liquid.
She shook it, then unscrewed the lid to reveal a dropper attached to the cap.
“We don’t have time for this. Someone will see the smoke eventually and come to investigate. Stick out your tongues.”
Darien shrugged, and Halla complied. Larissa eyed the mixture. “What is that?”
“It’ll take away the pain. Please, Larissa, trust me.”
Trust me . Anara had said that to her before. If she’d trusted Anara then, would it have changed anything? If she had believed Pappa’s stories, would she still have a father?
She cut off those thoughts. If she let them run their course, they would consume her.
Larissa stuck out her tongue. Anara squeezed the dropper over each of their mouths.
The drop exploded across Larissa’s taste buds, sharp and fresh, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin.
In the next moment, she bent over, clutching her stomach at the sudden pain.
It felt as if her body were shedding the skin and regrowing a new layer all at once.
As suddenly as the pain had appeared, it vanished.
“What was that?” Darien demanded, unraveling from his own hunched position.
“The blisters are gone!” Halla turned over her hands, examining the smooth skin.
Hesitantly, Darien stretched his arm over his head and rubbed his once injured side.
Larissa probed the gash that stretched across her neck and face.
As dried blood flaked to the ground, she could feel the raised scar underneath.
“It’s from the forests of the Smaragd commonwealth.
In the past, it was extracted from a plant that those of Ancestral Blood could distill into this form.
” Anara recapped the emerald liquid, ensuring it was well sealed.
“This is the last bottle I have. Time to go. Darien, I retrieved your bag from the clearing. Larissa, Halla, I’m sorry; I don’t think there is anything salvageable here. We’ll find you new clothes somewhere.”
Glancing down, Larissa was shocked to find her pale skin peeking through the rips in her clothing. She shivered as the breeze blew over the exposed skin, then crossed her arms over her chest defensively. A thought occurred.
“Helga,” Larissa said.