Sheen raises an eyebrow. ‘No, you’re not. But we shouldn’t have far to walk.’
My jaw drops. ‘You mean …’
‘When I left, I marked a path. Dryads are pesky things, but they can be outsmarted. By some of us, that is,’ he adds wryly. ‘The treeline lies a little over a mile from here.’
Relief floods through me.We did it.Or rather,hedid it. I was too busy having an existential crisis and consuming hallucinogenic fruit.
The ghost of a flame skims my skin. I shiver. What might’ve happened if Sheen hadn’t found me? Would I still be trapped in that nightmare, burning to death in my mind?
I open my mouth to thank him, but instead I say, ‘You came back.’
He nods, a little stiffly. ‘I should never have left.’
I look up into his face, for once not opposed to our notable height difference. In spite of everything, a smile tugs at my lips. ‘I didn’t hallucinate that kiss too, did I?’
Sheen clears his throat uncomfortably, his expression slightly pained. I’d always assumed it was because he couldn’t stand being so close to me. I expect I was right on that count, only not for the reasons I imagined.
He moves to step back, but I don’t release my grip, suddenly struck by the strangest feeling that as soon as we leave this place he’ll disappear. This version of him, anyway. And I’m not ready to let go just yet. What would he do, I wonder, if I moved closer? What would I do if he leaned into me? I’m loath to admit it, but I’m more than a little intrigued.
Slowly I drop my gaze to his lips.
At that moment there’s a crashing sound, followed by a shrill voice. ‘Flint! Sheen! Oh, thank theGods.’
We spring apart mere seconds before Spinner bursts through the trees. Her shirt is ripped as though she’s caught it on one too many branches, and there are a number of twigs and leaves sticking out of her hair. She makes a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh and then launches herself into my arms. Before I know it she’skissing me. My hands move instinctively, sliding round her waist, but my eye remains open, fixed on Sheen. I watch his expression shutter, then smooth over, growing distant and unreadable.
And although he doesn’t walk away this time, I find myself thinking,He’s gone.
51
Blaze
Over the past few days I’ve searched Brava high and low for the missing Eye. I’ve combed crags and clifftops and rocky mountain passes, shallow pools, hollows and caves. I waited desperately for a sign, a pull, a whisper – anything at all to indicate it was nearby.
Nothing.
I’m beginning to wonder whether the Eye is even here, or, worse, whether it’sanywhere. During my lessons with Queen Hydra the furthest I ever transported that silver teacup was to the opposite side of the room. Was I a fool to believe I had somehow managed to subconsciously send the talisman halfway across the empire?
Hope is a dangerous thing. It can be misleading – a trick of the light.
Still, I’m not ready to give up. Not yet.
The sky is a painting. Colours bleed into one another, smudging the canvas with shades of lilac and gold. Another day is drawing to a close. The sun refracts through mydragonfly’s gossamer wings, turning them from transparent to kaleidoscopic.
I grip the saddle with my knees, my curls streaming out behind me as we plunge down a steep cliffside before gliding through an echoing gorge, our elongated shadow skimming silently across the surface of the Creek far below.
I began my search at dawn. Alone, this time. It was Fox who suggested splitting up. He said we would cover more ground that way. I agreed, especially since with the Eye of the Past round his neck Fox is just as likely to be drawn towards Syla’s talisman as I am.
Though part of me wonders whether his sudden desire for solitude has anything to do with our conversation in the graveyard.
I shudder.
Hal,cursed.
Hal,dying.
Now more than ever before it is imperative I find the Eye. I might be airborne, but the weight of that responsibility seems to pull me down towards the very depths of the earth.
At that moment I feel …something.
