Page 127 of Spoils of war
Then darkness swelled at the edges of my vision and I fell into nothing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
When I woke, the light didn’t feel real. It filtered in thin and slanted—pale pink and gold bleeding through the seams in the wall, stretching across the floor in quiet lines. Like the world had forgotten how to move. Like time itself was holding its breath.
Dawn.
I was alive.
There was breath in my lungs. A pulse somewhere deep beneath my ribs. Even if everything else felt wrong. I didn’t feel awake. I felt… poured back into my body, slowly. Like something had stitched me together in the dark and left the seams loose. Everything was sore. Everything was heavy. Something warm rested across my shoulders. I looked down and saw Will’s coat. Too big on me, but the lining still held his warmth. I pulled it tighter. The movement sent a ripple of pain through my arms, but I didn’t let go. I couldn’t. It was the only thing anchoring me.
Outside the hut, I heard the boys. They were arguing again. Their voices cut across each other, low and fast. Each one sharper than the last. We’d have to move again soon. They’d spent too much coin. Aran shouldn’t have wasted money on weapons when we needed food.
How long had I been out? I looked down at my arms. The skin wasn’t red anymore. No open blisters. No melted flesh. Just raw pink, shiny and swollen. Tender where the new skin had begun to grow.
But I remembered the fire. I remembered the way it ate me alive. How it found its way inside my bones and split them open. How I screamed. How I burned. And I remembered the man. The way he stopped moving. The way the flames took him.
I had killed him. It didn’t matter what he would’ve done. What he’d already done. He was dead. Because of me. And his face still lived behind my eyes. His charred body, curled and cracking. The smell of burning flesh lodged in the back of my mind. Sweet. Thick. Unshakable. It didn’t fade. It didn’t leave. It haunted me.
The door creaked and Aran’s head appeared, framed by sunlight. His eyes landed on mine. Then his mouth dropped open.
“WIIIIILL!”
I winced.
“SHE’S AWAKE!” he yelled. His voice cracked halfway through, and then he was stumbling into the hut like he’d forgotten how his legs worked. Will wasn’t far behind. He dropped to the floor beside me so fast it was like the earth had pulled him down.
“Kera.” My name caught in his throat. I blinked up at him, the pressure in my chest pulled tight, rising like a tide. I opened my mouth but couldn’t find the words. My throat was dry. My mind worse.
“How are you… feeling?” he asked. Aran asked. It caught me off guard. Not just the words, but the way he said them. Soft. Hesitant. Like he wasn’t used to asking things like that. Like he didn’t know if he was allowed to.
I swallowed.
“I’m just glad…” I rasped out. “That you haven’t killed each other yet.”
Aran laughed. The sound tore out of him like it had been locked in his chest for days. He grabbed his ribs as he doubled over, still laughing through the pain.
“Can’t say I didn’t want to at times,” Aran muttered, flashing Will a crooked grin.
Will nudged him without thinking.
Aran let out a sharp groan and folded forward, clutching his side.
“Oh—shit. Sorry,” Will blurted.
But Aran was still laughing.
“No, no, it’s cool,” he gasped. “I love random acts of violence. Really brightens my morning.”
Will shook his head, then turned to me.
“You’ve healed.” His eyes traced over my skin, slow and careful.
Aran widened his eyes, like he’d only just noticed too.
“Shit. Does that mean you’re fireproof? Even your hair made it.”
I reached for it. The golden strands were still there. Soft. Whole.
