With steady hands, I worked the buckles loose, keeping my movements deliberate. Not once did I let my gaze wander. Myonly focus was on her wounds. The sight of her burns sliced through me in ways no blade ever could.
I eased her out of her fighting leathers, draping one of my shirts over her shoulders and guiding her arms through the sleeves. Then I helped her tug on one of my soft cotton shorts from the human realm. She looked small in my clothes. Fragile in a way she’d never permit herself to be seen.
When I moved to fasten the ties at her waist, my attention caught on her wrist.
I froze.
A familiar thin bracelet circled her wrist. The same bracelet I’d given her on my fourteenth birthday. Each tiny crystal held hand-picked flowers that I’d shrunk and dried to fit into the round orbs.
My chest tightened with an ache that spanned every year between that moment and this one.
She still had it. Wore it even now. Despite Etienne. Despite everything.
I traced the worn edge of one of the crystals and swallowed hard. “You kept this.”
Her eyes softened, and I couldn’t cage the emotions writhing inside me. So I didn’t. I let her see it all—how much it meant to me that she hadn’t let go of me entirely.
Tears and pain brimmed behind her eyes. “It was all I had left of you.”
My lungs burned with anguish.
“I never meant to not choose you, Brent.” Her voice broke, small and shattering and cutting deeper and deeper into me. “I never meant to live a single beat of this life without you.”
Her words hollowed me out, leaving me empty and wanting. But I couldn’t fall apart now. Not when she trembled before me, blistered and hurting. My pain could wait. Hers couldn’t.
I took in a slow breath, steadying my hand when I dipped the rag back into the basin and pressed the cool cloth gently to her skin. She hissed, and I forced myself to stay calm, to move with gentle and deliberate touches.
“What happened when you released your magic?” I asked quietly, even as fury raged in my chest at the sight of her wounds. “I’ve never seen it harm you like this before.”
“It always burns.” Her admission was tight and brittle. “In the past, I’ve been able to heal myself while I’m doing magic, but I couldn’t this time. It felt like my magic was punishing me. It kept demanding more and more out of me.” A breath shuddered from her parted lips. “Even Hoshiko couldn’t contain it. I was terrified I’d hurt him, or worse, but it was like my magic had full control, and it wouldn’t stop taking from me.”
Again, her eyes welled, and I caught the two tears that fell, careful not to brush my finger across her burns. My throat closed at the tormented look on her face. I didn’t know what to say, so I kept tending to her, carefully pressing the cloth to each blister before smoothing the balm over them.
“He wouldn’t leave me,” she said, her voice hitching. “I begged him to, but he wouldn’t. I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want to be the cause of you losing him.”
Her eyes, red and shiny, met mine, and I leaned down to press soft kisses to each lid. “I’m glad he stayed with you. I’m glad you weren’t alone.”
She shook her head, more tears streaming down her face. “I hate it.” Her lips pulled down in a deep frown. “My magic. I hate it. Not this.” She turned her left hand over to look at the blisters I hadn’t yet tended to. “I don’t care that it burns me. I hate what it demands from me. What it takes from me. What it takes from those I wield it against.” Her final words came out as a whisper.
I paused, my hand hovering over hers, my heart stalling over the weight of her words. “I know.”
Her eyes, rimmed with pain and shame, pinned me.
“I won’t tell you not to. You’ve earned that hate,” I said, my voice as soft as the hands I had used to take care of her. “But magic like yours doesn’t happen to just anyone. It was entrusted to you. You were chosen to carry this magic.”
Her jaw tightened, and she looked away. I could feel how tightly she held herself together while the pressure threatened to unravel her.
“I’m a monster, Brent,” she said, each word heavier than the next. “What I do isn’t . . .”
“Do you remember when we were younglings and would marvel over the dragons?” Slowly, she returned my gaze. “We thought them invincible because they could wield fire without burning themselves. But that’s not true. Hoshiko told me that his fire burns him. His scales protect his body, but only just. When he breathes it, it scalds his throat and tongue.”
I dipped the rag in the water again, giving her a chance to breathe and simply be.
“He chooses to wield it despite the cost because he and the other dragons were entrusted with fire magic.” I looked at her, at the raw glimmer of magic that barely held beneath the surface of her skin despite the hours she’d spent releasing it. “Like them, you weren’t given gentle magic. It’s something unfamiliar and powerful, and I know it hurts you. I see the many ways it’s hurt you. It doesn’t make you a monster, Lolli. You use your magic to protect, to survive. I’ve seen you be merciful when your magic could destroy. You aren’t monstrous, my love. You are a dragon. Burned, yet still standing.”
Her breathing slowed, her tight features slackening. Once I finished tending to her under her watchful eyes, I reached for the bowl of broth and helped her sit up. Her shoulders folded forward, and it took every bit of self-control not to cradle her in my arms simply so I could hold her for the rest of the night.
“I can’t eat,” she said.
