He returns to his soldiers without any more negotiation. “Bind her more tightly,” he orders. “She stays here, out of my way for the time being.”
The soldiers move in as he moves away. They waste no time following his command, their movements brisk and impersonal, like men who have learned not to think too hard about their orders.
I let them work. I keep my gaze fixed on a brighteningstrip of sky, not resisting. Not yet. I can tell my stillness makes them uneasy; they’re uncertain what to make of a prisoner who doesn't fight back.
They should be uneasy.
Their king believes tighter chains will be enough to hold me.
He's wrong.
I may have burned all the way down to the last embers of myself, but I am not extinguished.
And very soon, he will regret not finding a way to put my fire out completely.
Chapter Forty-Six
The dampness of the cave is the first challenge I face.
It makes it difficult to find any trace of the fire I need—even when Sesca folds her senses into mine and helps me see the dark space with greater, more magical clarity.
No less than an hour passes while I struggle to breathe in and out with measured focus, to gather the elements from the air and manipulate them.
The other challenge is trying to do any of this while not attracting attention from the soldiers stationed around the cave's entrance.
There are six that I can see. Huddled and miserable in the cold, most of them complaining about being left behind on guard duty while other regiments are following their new king into a more exciting battle. I distinctly hear one mention that there's no need for themallto be here, given how secure I am in my bindings, and how sick I must be after the attack they carried out against my dragon.
From their conversation, and from others I've beeneavesdropping on throughout the night via my bond with Sesca, I've concluded that it was some sort of extremely rare and potent poison that made her—and by extension, me—so disoriented. We recovered quickly enough, but these soldiers clearly believe there's lingering damage.
I agree with one part of their conversation, at least: there is no point in all of them being here. Oranyof them being here.
One guard or one hundred, it makes no difference to me.
I'll be leaving soon, regardless.
The fire Malachi sat beside last night is nothing more than charred wood and ash at this point, but it's ultimately what I end up focusing on. There are still wisps of pale red moving deep within the black debris, and I eventually manage to catch hold of one, to twist it into a brighter, more solid shape. That's all I need; just a clear ember.
Once I have this, I pull it into myself, settling it and willing it to ignite into something brighter. As it does, it suddenly becomes easier to see similar sparks of red energy in the air—like calling to like, until threads of fiery potential are spinning all around me, sinking in and becoming a part of me that’s as natural as my breathing.
When I call for Sesca to help me weave these threads into something more substantial, she doesn't hesitate; the force that rushes through the bond is nothing like the small, careful summonings and manipulations we've practiced before. It's like the difference between taking a sip of something warm and falling into a raging inferno, and for a moment, the building heat inside my body becomes so overwhelming that I can't do anything but brace myself and let it wind through me.
Fear almost resurfaces at this point, because this heatmakes me think of Emberfall. Of lying on the ground while the fires ate everything around me, while the city I loved was reduced to ash and ruin. I think of how small I felt that night. How weak. How finished.
Not this time.
This time, I control the fire and send it only where I want it to go—toward my wrists, to the places where the tightest of the chains meet my skin. The fire I control doesn't burn me. But as the metal links absorb more of it, it gets harder to withstand the searing heat they're giving off. The scent of burning flesh tickles my nose. I don't let myself think about how much it hurts.
I stay focused until the chains soften enough to sever, falling away like shed skin.
I move on to the other chains holding my arms together. This time, I hastily yank them apart as soon as the metal starts to weaken—preventing them from searing my skin, but also making them pop apart with a force that sends pieces flying.
The soldiers at the cave entrance hear these pieces clinking and clattering over the stone, and suddenly I have company; all six of my guards crowd into the cave, regarding me with a mixture of confusion and dawning alarm.
We need to finish this. The thought is oddly calm and entirely certain as it presses through my mind and toward Sesca.
Be still, she replies.
Without question, I obey. I breathe in slowly, and as I do, her essence and mine blend even more fully together, until every chain wrapped around me is suddenly heated and glowing.
