Tears welled in her eyes. She clasped my arm, and her fingernails dug through my tunic and into my skin. “There’s a fire. It’s taking everything.”
“A fire,” I repeated numbly.
“Don’t go that way. You should run.” She released her grip and started off again, leaving me to stare after her, dumbfounded.
Her words repeated in my mind.A fire. It’s taking everything.
Everything.
“My wagon,” I whispered, taking off down the path again.
The roar of flames grew. Smoke curled through the buildings. In the distance, a blazing heat bathed the entire town in an eerie orange glow. When I finally reached the edge of town, I stumbled to a stop. I gazed upon the conflagration with disbelieving eyes, my lips parting.
I had hoped the woman’s warnings were nothing more than an exaggeration. The fire would be small and contained. Easy to vanquish. Little damage would be left behind.
But no.
I shook my head. My face twisted in pain. Vibrant, wicked flames consumed the entire festival. They enveloped every wagon and every cart. Performer tents were nothing but ash, and the stage burned brighter than the moon overhead. It had spread toeverything. Only the mud had prevented it from creeping into the actual town.
Stumbling forward, I caught sight of my wagon through the blaze. It was already burnt to a crisp, the awning and banners long gone. Even the willow tree had not survived the fire’s vicious attack.
An arrow of pain pierced my heart. I sank to my knees, watching it all burn away. That wagon had been my life for so long, I couldn’t imagine a time without it. And now only ash would remain.
* * *
“Lilia, love, you need to come away from the fire.” Steffon knelt beside me and gently tugged me to my feet. Concern gleamed in his midnight eyes, his protective shadows twisting and curling around me—soothing my skin. Their touch brushed away the pain.
I blinked, and the flaming world rushed back in around me. My face felt hot, and so much smoke surrounded me that my throat burned. I coughed, my eyes watering.
I let Steffon lead me away, but I cast a final glance over my shoulder at the ruins of the festival. The fire still raged, though there was hardly anything left for it to consume now. Only blackened bits of my wagon remained. Unbidden tears streamed down my face. It felt as if someone had opened up my chest and scooped out a piece of my heart.
I coughed again, my lungs squeezing. Steffon handed me a wet cloth. Whispering my thanks, I pressed it to my nose and mouth. It did ease some of the burn.
He led me through the maze of streets to Nilsa’s inn, taking me in through the back. The front door had been bolted shut. Only a few patrons were at the tables, nursing their stews with downcast looks on their faces. Nilsa was with Herold in the back corner. Her head was in her hands.
Startled, she looked up when she heard us approach. When she saw it was me and Steffon, she leapt to her feet and rushed toward me, her braided hair slapping her back and jingling madly.
“Oh, Lilia.” She clasped my hands. “I heard what happened. Your wagon…is it…did the fire…?”
A lump in my throat caught my words. Clenching my teeth, I looked away.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“Have you seen Ragnar?” I’d searched the town for him on our way here, but there had yet to be any sign of him. I tried not to imagine the worst—that he’d gone to my wagon, thinking he’d find me there. That the flames had consumed him before he’d gotten away.
But even then, he had to be fine. He would survive that. His body seemed immune to flames. So where was he?
Nilsa shook her head, her brow furrowing. “No, Lilia. I’ve seen no sign of him. It’s a strange coincidence, is it not?”
“What’s a strange coincidence?” Steffon asked from behind her.
I shot Nilsa a look. Earlier, I’d told her about Ragnar’s past because I’d needed to talk to someone about how I was feeling. Finding him only to lose him felt overwhelming, and unburdening it all had lessened the ache. But the information about what he was couldn’t go further than that. It wouldn’t be fair to him unless he wanted everyone to know.
“It’s just that Ragnar has some fire demon in his blood. Right, love?” Herold spoke up from their spot at the table.
Nilsa stiffened, as if realizing what she’d been about to say. “Yes, yes. The fire demon blood.”
“So Ragnar could have easily started that fire,” Steffon said, catching on to Nilsa’s suspicions.
