The door creaks open, and I brace for another silent servant or a cloaked physician.
Instead, a flurry of rose petals and tiny indignation heralds Marb—my impossible, iridescent fairy guide—who zips into the room like a thundercloud in miniature.
“Oh, stars preserve us,” she gasps, hands on her hips. “What have they done to you now, Fireling?” She flits straight to my ankle and inspects the swollen, purpling mess with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue. “Look at this!” she mutters, aghast.
“I think it happened when I hit the lake,” I rasp.
Marb makes a sound like a dying teapot, then sprinkles powdered gold over the injury. The dust glows briefly, fizzing into the skin with a warm pulse. The pain doesn’t vanish, but it dulls just enough for the breath to return to my lungs.
“And that’s to say nothing of the bruises on your ribs,” she huffs, glaring at the crescent-shaped wounds peeking through my torn dress as if they personally offend her.
Between Mae and Marb, I’m gently guided—well, half-carried—off the balcony where they found me and back into my room, where a steaming bath awaits me. I’m in too much pain to care about modesty; they strip away the soaked remnants of my clothes and lower me in. I hiss as the heat hits raw skin, stinging with magic.
Mae uncorks a slender vial and pours a soft pink liquid into the bath. The scent reaches me first—roses and sugar, as bright and sharp as a cold spring rain. The potion shimmers as it touches the water, sending starbursts shooting across the surface.
I watch, mesmerized, as the elixir spirals down, weaving golden ribbons through the heat, wrapping around my cuts and bruises like threads of starlight. The moment it touches my skin, warmth unfurls through me, steadily melting away my pain. I sink deeper with a sigh, letting the potion do its magic. My aches dissolve, and my muscles release. Somewhere in the magic, I feel like myself again.
I lean back against the marble rim and close my eyes. What is it now? Five near-death experiences in less than a week? Six? I’ve lost count. But I’m still here.
The water ripples, and for the briefest moment, I see fire again.
Wings.
Eyes.
Him.
Chapter 18
Premonitions
Find the truth… unlock the past…” I murmur as I wake, the prophecy echoing through the fog clouding my mind.
I’m not sure if I spoke aloud or merely dreamed it, but the moment my eyes open, Mariel’s head lifts from where she sits beside my bed, searching my face with a quiet urgency.
Golden morning spills through my gossamer curtains, painting the stone walls in soft hues. For a heartbeat, I wonder if I’m still dreaming. The scent of rosewood lingers from last night’s bath, clean and comforting. My body still aches, but not as much as before. At least I’m alive. Blessedly alive.
“Look who’s finally risen from the dead!” Cassy grins, practically tripping over herself to get to my bedside, nearlyspilling the small tray in her arms. She nudges a plate toward me. “We saved you a roll. And some tea.”
“Yeah, but don’t get used to it,” Mariel adds with a teasing wink, though the shadows beneath her eyes tell a different story—one of worry, of a long night. Has she even slept?
I carefully push myself upright, biting back a groan as my ankle screams in protest. Beneath the banter, something else lingers in the air. Tension. Exhaustion. Relief laced with fear.
“I… Thank you,” I whisper. “For staying.”
Mariel shrugs. “You saved us first,” she says softly.
At the edge of the bed, Cassy’s smile falters. “We were trying to be brave… but if you hadn’t convinced us to jump through that portal, we’d be dead.”
The air thickens with the memory of the maze. I glance between them, and for the first time since that first evening, I see no hint of competition in my companions’ eyes. No calculation. Just care. Just trust. It softens something brittle inside me.
Their eyes are wide as they listen to every detail of what happened after I left them—the fall, the darkness, the lake monster, how the dragon saved me.
Cassy’s head snaps up. “A monster? What lake? Wait—the dragonsavedyou?”
I nod, still stunned myself. They answer the question that’s been plaguing my mind.
“The void spatusout inside the gardens,” Mariel says, “not into the lake.”
