Page 63 of The Incendiary

“Why?” I growled.

“Because I I—” Her lips pinched together. “Because it could have been a lot worse. That fire was a fraction of what I can do,” she explained. “My powers are… wild. If I ever hurt you, I won’t hesitate to heal you.”

I was completely unsatisfied with that answer. But how could I explain why? I considered my life inconsequential next to hers. She mattered. I didn’t. One could argue I wasn’t even supposed to be alive, but Aryella was the most important person in this world. That was exactly the way we were meant to be.

“I’m sorry.” She squeezed my hands. “It’s your birthday. This is too much. I am too much⁠—”

“No!” I ran my thumbs over her soft cheeks. “You are not too much. I’m quite positive that when it comes to you, I will never get enough.”

I needed her to know that truth. She was always trying to appease those around her. With everything going on in that castle, she’d expressed her fear of being a burden.

She’d told me her mother was cursed and ill, no longer able to do much of anything on her own. Eating, drinking, speaking had become a battle. The curse Molochai placed on the queen had been eroding her body and mind for eighteen years. Aryella’s mother barely remembered her anymore. I couldn’t imagine that kind of pain: having someone you loved so much not have a single clue who you were. To cope with my nagging fear, I rested my lips on her forehead and refused to think of a world without her in it.

“Your uncle,” I began cautiously, “exerts a lot of control.”

When it came to Simeon Whitlock, I needed to understand what we were dealing with. When I looked at her, I saw a perfect, breathtaking girl desperate to break free from it all.

She nodded. “Yes. He has the whole continent to think about.”

“I’m talking about control over you, specifically,” I reminded her.

Her full lips parted. “Yes.” She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders like she felt she needed to convince us both. “Again, he has an entire continent to protect and care for.”

But who was caring for her? Who was making her wishes and feelings their priority? I remembered the bars on her window and suspected the answer was no one.

“I just want you safe and happy,” I told her. “That’s what matters to me.”

I kissed her soft, rosy cheek, then retreated, sensing she needed space.

“Well, in that case, I should probably tell you that I don’t know how to swim.”

I froze with my back to her. “What?” I barked out, spinning to face her in the water.

She bit her bottom lip, wincing. “You’re going to make me say it again?”

My jaw clenched in panicked anger at the memory of the castle rooftop weeks ago. “What if you had fallen off the castle roof, and I hadn’t been there to jump in after you?”

Her brow creased in confusion. “I tell you I have powers straight from our gods, I burn you with one of those powers, and you’re most upset that I didn’t tell you I can’t swim?”

“Correct,” I answered tersely. “You could have fallen and gotten seriously hurt, or worse.”

“I wasn’t going to fall in.” Her answer was so simple, her voice so soft and sure. It took me a moment to calm down.

“Reckless, beautiful angel.” I shook my head. “You know how to make a man’s heart stop beating.” She laughed, the sound light and free, and I almost forgot my panic. “All right. Come here, in the water.” I stepped between her barely parted legs and fastened my arms around her waist. “My girl has to know how to swim.”

“Oh, is that what I am?” she teased, winding her arms around the back of my neck. “Your girl?”

“You sure are.” I barely refrained from possessively adding, Anyone who says otherwise is dead.

“Why do I always end up soaking wet when I’m with you?” she laughed.

I choked out a strained laugh before covering it up with a cough. She was referencing the last two times we’d visited the castle rooftop and been rained on. Her eyes—large, green, and beautiful—were filled to the brim with nothing but innocent worry as I lowered her into the water.

“Gavin?” she asked nervously. “Are you okay?”

In the past, I’d preferred women older than me. They were less emotional, less likely to get attached. Usually a little jaded, like me. But not my Ella. Everything about her was genuine and true.

“I’ve never been better.” Smiling to myself, I muttered, “Time to get wet.”