Isla laughed softly. “Your sweet tooth will be in heaven. Though I admit, I’m just as eager.”
“It’s a shame Lady Hatherleigh never comes to these events,” Isla added after a moment, watching a group of little ones trace glowing circles in the air with their sparklers. “She should see how her money puts joy on their faces.”
Juliette glanced around. The field was alive with staff from both the orphanage and Lady Hatherleigh’s household, as well as a few volunteers moving among the children, keeping careful watch.
Isla followed Juliette’s gaze. The event was well run, and her heart lifted in gratitude as she watched how the small things in life really made a difference to the magic of childhood.
A flash of movement caught her eye. A boy of about eight stood close to her, his sparkler trailing a golden ribbon of light. He grinned up at her, cheeks flushed with excitement. Isla’s smile bloomed in return—and then faltered.
One of the sparks broke away from the glowing trail, spinning in the air with unnatural speed. It didn’t fall harmlessly to the ground as was expected—it darted toward her like a living ember, bright and deliberate. Isla froze, eyes widening as it struck the sleeve of her coat.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the fabric hissed, light blooming into fire.
At first she felt nothing—only shock and disbelief as her eyes darted around, searching instinctively for Andrew. If he were here, his gift could have quenched the flames in a heartbeat. But he wasn’t.
Then the pain struck. It was sharp and searing, ripping through her arm. She gasped and cried out. The world blurred into motion—Juliette’s voice shouting her name, the distant sound of a child sobbing—all folding into the crackle of fire and the sting of burning fabric.
Before she could react, Edmund was there. He didn’t hesitate—shrugging out of his overcoat, he swung it around her shoulder and pressed down hard, smothering the flames withbrisk, controlled movements. The fire hissed and died beneath the thick wool.
“Hold still,” he said firmly, his tone clipped and calm. When the last ember went dark, he stepped back, shaking out the smoking coat. The edge of her sleeve was charred through, the fabric eaten away to reveal blistering skin beneath all the way from her lower arm up to her collar bone. The fire had spread far more quickly than was natural.
Around them, the children had gone quiet, their sparklers dimming. The children’s laughter had fallen into frightened whispers. She turned her body, hiding her arm from young eyes.
Pain seared through her, hot and merciless, radiating down her arm in pulsing waves. It wasn’t regular pain—it was raw andconsuming, the kind that clawed at her breath and blurred the edges of her vision; every movement made the burn scream anew.
She bit down hard on her lip, forcing herself not to cry out again. The children were still watching, wide-eyed. She wouldn’t frighten them any more than they already were.
Her throat tightened, but she managed to speak through gritted teeth, her voice low so as not to be overheard. “Edmund ... get me out of here. Now.”
He was already moving before her instructions, his hand linking her uninjured arm gently as he guided her away from the gathering. Juliette’s voice rose behind them, infused with a fake brightness as she soothed the children and then said a quiet farewell to the orphanage staff before catching up to them.
Isla kept her head high as they crossed the field, but every step sent another flash of pain through her body, each one fiercer than the last. Her eyes burned, but she refused to let the tears fall. Not here. Not where the little ones could see.
Once in the car, the tension she had held at bay finally broke. Isla let the tears come, shaking and raw, unable to hide them any longer. Edmund drove while Juliette rubbed her back in soothing circles.
“Hold on, Isla. We’ll get you back to campus and the hospital wing. A Terra will fix that up in no time,” Edmund said quietly, keeping his eyes on the road.
“It’s a shame Terras can’t heal themselves,” Juliette muttered in frustration, her voice soft but sharp with sympathy.
They drove in silence, Isla’s tears dripping in her lap as she took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Is it just me, or did that spark from the sparkler seem to travel in an unnatural way and burn my clothing too quickly?” she asked, still shaking.
Edmund grunted. “Unnatural, all right. Whoever did it—Wielder or Summoner—must have influenced the fire to reach you and ignite the way it did. Though I suspect the other adults there would not have linked it to anything more than an accident.”
“Did you catch sight of anyone?”
He shook his head as he navigated the turn down the quiet road. “No. I looked around after putting out the flame, but whoever it was blended into the crowd.”
“I can’t believe how close it got to your face,” Juliette said. “Thank goodness for Edmund’s quick thinking.”
Isla looked down at her arm. At first she thought it was the flicker of the street lamps playing tricks on her eyes, but her arm looked swollen, and the color seemed to shift too quickly from vivid red to a purple-bronze. It was hard to tell mid-motion, crossing from stretches of gaslight into darkness, but the hue lookedwrong, unnatural. There was also a foul, sweet-rottensmell emanating from it. The sight and stench turned her stomach.
Pulling up near the campus, Edmund parked as close as possible to the hospital wing, the car screeching slightly as it stopped. He was out in a heartbeat, opening the back door for the ladies.
Isla tried to stand straight, but the moment her feet hit the ground, her body wavered. The pain was blinding now—deep, searing waves rolling up her arm—and the effort to move drained what little strength she had left. Her breath came too fast, shallow and uneven. She swayed.
“Edmund.” Juliette’s voice was tight with alarm. “I think she’s going into shock.”
