One near the hearth gave a little when I tested it. My pulse quickened. After all the empty drawers and false leads, this felt different.
I knelt, resting my palm on the wood, and coaxed a seam open with a subtle push of magic. It lifted, revealing a dark gap beneath.
With one arm braced on the floor, I reached in slowly. If there was a trap, I’d trip it on my terms.
Heat.
Something small shifted, and I closed my fingers around a smooth object, and drew it out, revealing a deep red stone. I laid it on my palm, watching as the low light hit it and arced off.
Reyla came to my side and crouched. Farris followed and sat opposite her, staring at the stone.
She reached toward it but didn’t touch.What is it?
Not sure yet.I turned the thing over, looking for markings but finding none.
Frowning, she touched it, and pulled back fast, her mouth going slack. Her voice sounded hollow.Fear. Pain. A child’s voice crying.
Farris growled. Reyla looked at the stone like it had tried to bite her.
You’re holding it,she said.Don’t you feel it too?
I shook my head.
Then why me?
Maybe it’s selective. Maybe it’s broken.
Feels intact enough to me.She rubbed her fingers on her tunic.What do you think it is?
It could be a memory stone.I turned it over, studying it from all angles.Mages used them to store traumatic memories. Soldiers too, those who’d survived too much.
They locked away their trauma in a gem?
Better than carrying it forever.I thought of all the things I'd want to forget.Some memories are too heavy to bear.
What was she trying to forget?Reyla finally asked.
You assume this is Laphira’s.
Who else could it belong to?
Shrugging, I looked down at it. At the heat of it seepingthrough my skin. At the way my wildfire’s face had gone pale from one instant of contact.
We need to find out.
Footsteps again in the hall. Close. Getting closer.
Reyla’s panicked gaze locked on mine.
Someone opened the door to the sitting room. At least we’d shut the bedroom door.
The woman we’d heard in the hall spoke. Snapped, actually. “Sit. Stop whimpering.”
“Mummy. Are you alright, Mummy?” the boy asked. “Sit, Mummy. I’ll protect you.”
The little boy's voice cut through me. So much worry in such small words.
The floor creaked beyond the door. My hand hovered above the stone. One sound or one breath too loud, and it would be over.
