He gazed up, still chuckling. ‘Oh come on, I saw you perk up a little when she threw it at him.’
‘Maybe it was a little funny.’ That part was mildly entertaining.
‘A little? You’ve got a little of the ash still on your face. Gods, they are so unhinged.’
River smiled, as carefree as I’d ever seen him. Ever since last night, when he realised everyone in his battalion would survive, a weight lifted off his shoulders.
An abundance of wonderment and appreciation shone in his eyes as he thanked me; I didn’t know how to react. I didn’t need gratitude. I was happy to help, especially since Fogoya had started to feel like home.
Laughing some more, he closed the distance between us and swiftly wiped the soot from my cheek as we continuedalong the trail winding behind the stone house belonging to his grandparents.
We walked ahead for at least an hour, and though the terrain was fairly even, my feet began to blister, and my nape grew sticky with sweat. I expected those were the regular side effects of the Land of Volcanoes, where the fields were plagued by endless pools and creeks of lava, glowing in hues of brilliant crimson and deep blood-red.
The air shimmered with heat, and the ground pulsed faintly beneath our steps as if the realm itself were breathing. The sight was breathtaking, and I felt a sense of belonging.
No. The part of me that was a fire-breather felt like it belonged here.
For a while, we continued walking in silence, and I opened the gate to my fire, letting it bloom in my palm, flickering softly against the volcanic breeze.
‘Inspired?’ River radiated with joy at the sight of my wielding.
I connected the dots. ‘Is that why we’re here? For inspiration?’
His eyes followed the flame dancing over my fingers before he stilled. I caught the struggle in his gaze, the fire he fought to keep from me, even as it longed to reach me.
‘There are many approaches to training. Your witchery reacts to environmental stimuli; I thought perhaps your fire does too.’
The depth of his observation still shocked me. His watchful eyes seemed never to falter, even in the moments when I believed myself alone.
‘Did you struggle with your fire too?’ I wondered, since he seemed so educated and helpful in the matter.
An alluring grin stretched his lips. ‘The opposite of yours.’
‘You struggledwith taming it?’ That I could imagine, with the thunder of flames dancing in his soul. But not wanting to give him unnecessary satisfaction, I rolled my eyes.
What kind of struggle even was that?
River chuckled. ‘Don’t you just love to deflect, my witch. Tell you what, grow your fire, and I will answer some of your questions in return.’
I weighed my options. ‘I’m dealing with a king here, which means I have to be specific in the terms of our deal. How many questions are you offering exactly?’
‘Two,’ he purred.
How lame. ‘Four.’
‘Three. Final offer.’
I had him. ‘Done. I would have agreed to two, by the way.’
‘And I always answer your questions anyway, witch. Don’t I?’
With his eyes shut, he stood as if carved from resolve, an image of pure, undistracted intent. ‘Can you feel it?’
I tried hard to reach the energy he sensed. More sweat coated my face as I felt it at my fingertips, fleeting like sand slipping through my grasp.
Each time I reached, it vanished, leaving only silence, an unattainable treasure, a blistering source that my flames shimmered eagerly for.
A yearning for the source, for the searing embrace of the scorched land. It was almost close enough to grasp.
