Page 9 of Moth to a Flame

“And before that. When you asked about the bond?”

“You said you weren’t sure. You’d been studying it for curse breaking.” He raised his hands slightly. “Look, if I’m getting it wrong, I hit my head pretty⁠—”

“You wait here. My notes are in the house. I need to write this down.”

“Oh, yeah…okay.” He found a clean piece of floor, away from any plants and broken glass, and…sat.

He just listened to me and did what I said, and that sent an old thrill through me I hadn’t felt in years. He must’ve felt it too because he gave me a strange look.

“Um…your notebook?”

“Right, right. Oh, I’m Lucia, by the way.”

“I’m Hawk.” He gave me a tilted smile that made the piercing in his lip glint in the faint light that remained.

Nope. I was not looking at that.

I walked toward the heavy iron door, only glancing back for a moment as I swung it open. Mugen was perched on the trellis above him, swatting at his antennae, and Hawk let out that cute squeaking sound again as he tried to shoo the creature away.

Focus, Lucia.

I stepped out into the cold and started up the gravel path toward the house.

The night air was crisp after the humid greenhouse, and I breathed it in gratefully. My mind was already on what I would need from the house, ways to mitigate this horrible disaster. I made mental lists, short-term goals, anything to keep the horrible feeling rising in my stomach at bay as I remembered the broken Moon Queen in my hands.

But the feeling was stronger than normal, rising into my chest like bile. I’d walked about twenty feet from the greenhouse when a sharp cramp in my left side stopped me, like a knife between my ribs.

I paused. This wasn’t just emotional.

I took another step, and the pain intensified, both in my ribs and in my heart.

“Hawk?” I called back without turning.

“Yeah?” His voice sounded odd. Tight.

Another step.

The pain clamped down around my heart until I was afraid it would stop beating.

I stopped. Turned around.

Through the greenhouse windows, I could see him on his feet now, one hand pressed flat to his chest, the other gripping the table beside him, his knuckles white.

“Are you—” he started.

“Come here.”

He picked his way over the glass, out through the door, and onto the path. With every step, the pain lessened, and when he was six feet from me, it was gone entirely.

We stood there in the dark, both panting and staring at each other.

“Don’t move,” I commanded, and he nodded.

I took a few steps backward, away from him, and once again, at about twenty feet, the pain became so intense my knees started shaking. He closed the distance, his face pale.

“That’s new,” Hawk remarked.

“That’s a problem,” I replied, meaning it fully.