Page 140 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“I have never tried to help you, nor would I. The only person who could is yourself.”

Zaiana’s gloved fists tightened. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“It’s a long story. But yours seems clear. Are you going to capture me and take me to Marvellas?”

“If I wanted you, I would have taken you by now. You may be powerful in your ability, but you are no fighter.”

“I may not wish to fight, but I haven’t survived this long alone without needing to.”

Zaiana had so many questions about her that for once had no gain. She wasn’t sure what it was about Nerida, but she didn’t truly want her to leave like everyone else.

“If you’re not going to stop me, I’m leaving?—”

“Wait,” Zaiana said, scrambling for a reason for her to stay. “My magick is gone. Or, it’s still there, I just can’t reach it, and, well, you’re a healer—maybe you could feel if there’s…” Zaiana trailed off, gritting her teeth from how pitiful she sounded.

Then, when Nerida’s face released the tension to display her usual care, she hated herself for using the healer’s nature for her own gain this time. No matter who asked, Nerida wouldn’t refuse help with the ability she had.

“Since when?”

“Since I battled Faythe. I was unconscious for weeks, then when I woke, and it’s been silent since.”

Her brow furrowed in assessment. “Faythe’s abilities are fine.”

Yes, much to Zaiana’s burning annoyance.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” Zaiana grumbled, making to leave.

“Wait.” Nerida stopped her this time. “Maybe we could help each other.”

Zaiana turned back with curiosity. “What can I do for you?”

Nerida debated a second longer. “Come with me.”

She followed the healer, having nothing to lose anyway. Nerida brought her to a tall home wedged between many others.

“Are you sure you don’t have your lightning? Would make this a lot easier,” Nerida said, stripping out of her cloak and kneeling by the fire. Zaiana watched her begin with the tools to light it.

“No,” Zaiana barely whispered. “Sorry.”

Though Nerida had meant it lightly, every time she acknowledged her missing ability, it grew on the hollowness inside her. She could be strong without it. Still fight and fly, but she would never be whole again without it.

When flame caught across the debris, Zaiana gravitated toward the heat, crouching with a contented sigh when the warmth caught her skin and began to spread over her.

“Let me see if there’s something I can feel,” Nerida said, shifting closer.

Zaiana jerked away by habit but forced herself back at the healer’s soft, patient look.

Nerida approached again tentatively, taking Zaiana’s hands. Her hazel eyes slipped shut, and Zaiana could do nothing but sit there with a growing anticipation in her stomach.

“I met…someone.They thought it might be tied to my heartbeat,” she offered.

Nerida peeled one eye open curiously. “You heart is still.”

“I don’t think it always was.”

“Fascinating,” Nerida said, closing her eyes again to concentrate. “I have always theorized myself that it’s not a born cause.”

The silence turned painful, grating over her skin, while she gradually felt exposed at the thought of Nerida searching within her.

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