“I am the fire. I am the flame. I am the light that cannot be dimmed.”
The crystal warms against my palm. Soft at first, like sun on bare shoulders. Then hotter. The petal pink deepens, pulsing faintly.
The crystal flashes yellow. Then orange. Then red. The colors swell inside the quartz like a sunrise. Heat builds, and the crystal vibrates with energy that buzzes up my arm.
The heart of the quartz continues to flare—yellow, orange, red—the colors spiraling inward, collapsing into a single burning point of light.
“It’s working,” I breathe.
Boom!
The crystal detonates, a fiery shockwave scorching a black ring into the silk bedding. Heat lashes my palm,and I shriek, flinging the stone. It rolls to a stop, glowing like an ember. The candle topples, flame devouring the affirmation card until it curls and crumbles into ash.
Fire races across the sheets. Panic clamps around my throat. My hands flail uselessly, slapping at the blaze.
The tent flap snaps open. Declan barrels in, eyes taking in the scene in one sweep. He seizes the bucket of water we use to wash up and hurls the contents over the bed.
Water slaps the silk, dousing the fire. And me.
I gasp as cold rushes over my skin, thin dress plastered to me, hair dripping, embarrassment and adrenaline making my teeth chatter.
Declan sets the empty bucket down. For a long while, neither of us speaks. The air between us crackles with leftover anger, smoke, and everything I don’t know how to say. My throat aches with the things I should apologize for but can’t. He doesn’t look away, and I hate how much I need that steadiness when I’ve given him every reason to turn his back.
My palm throbs, skin flushed red and tender. I shift, trying to gather what’s left of my dignity and wet spell ingredients, but the saturated silk beneath me squelches.
Declan sits in the dry spot beside me, eyes dark with concern. He leans in, tears a strip from the wet sheet, and gently reaches for my wrist. “Let me see.”
His fingers cradle mine. His touch is warm and steady as he turns my hand over, inspecting the burn on my palm.
“Why are you being nice to me?”
His mouth lifts in the faintest curve. “Because you need someone to be.”
I slump against him, suddenly exhausted. “I was just trying to… I don’t know. Feel like I had control again. Like I wasn’t completely at the mercy of this place.”
“You’re not,” he says quietly. “When you patched me up after I clocked Dav, I remember thinking you had it all figured out.”
He reaches for a little clay jar the healer gave him and scoops out a small amount of balm with two fingers. Gently, he dabs it onto my burn. My skin stings, but the cool salve soothes almost immediately. His thumb brushes the inside of my wrist as he rubs it in.
He shifts beside me, leg pressing against mine, his warmth curling around me like a blanket. He rests his cheek on the top of my head, breath ghosting over my damp hair. The weight of him, the stability and safety makes the space around my heart unclench.
“I thought maybe…” My throat works as I force the words out. “After everything, I worried you wouldn’t look at me the same.”
His chuckle shakes my shoulder. “I think I like you even more now that you’ve become a fire hazard.” I feel his mouth curve, the heat in his voice unmistakable. “And I’m not even going to say anything about how wet you are.”
“Are you flirting with me?” I ask, smile breaking across my face. “I feel like I need to ask now so I don’t automatically assume the worst.”
“That’s a trade secret. Can’t give away all my moves.”
“Hmm.” I glance down, splashing my toes lightly in the puddle soaking through the tent rug. “Might want to work on those moves.”
“I was saving your life.”
“You threw water on me.”
“Same thing.”
Declan’s hand stays wrapped gently around my wrist, thumb moving in the barest, most absent-minded stroke against my pulse point.
