Page 102 of Spark of Sorcery
How long was I out?
I shake myself, squinting at the window. It’s pitch black outside. I’ve probably missed dinner and Blaze will be flapping around my room like a wild thing, desperate to get outside for his evening flight.
I groan. My body is stiff and cold. In fact, I’m shivering. Or am I shaking?
I rub my frigid hand down my face. It was her words – so similar to Muriel’s as I kneeled before her. It was all too familiar and triggered something inside me, some response.
The Madame is right, after all. I am broken and it makes no sense that I would be the fated mate of the Princes. No sense that the stone – that Blaze – would call me like he did.I’m damaged and messed up. Incapable even of avenging my sister’s death.
I pick up the rag and, quickly as I can, scrub away the remaining patch of dirt and mop up the water, before hurrying back to my room.
At dinner the next day, I explain to Fly and Clare about what happened – leaving out the part where, for one ridiculous moment, I thought I’d been the one to make Madame fall.
“Sounds like you had a panic attack,” Clare says, blinking behind her glasses. “Which isn’t surprising. The Madame is pretty foreboding.”
“A panic attack?”
“Uh huh,” Clare says.
“Soldiers have them all the time back in Iron Quarter, Cupcake,” Fly says, resting his hand on mine. “Of course, they don’t call them that back home.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s usually because they’ve been through some traumatic event.”
“Or just struggling to cope,” Clare pipes up.
“I’m not struggling,” I say, poking at the crust of my soggy pie.
“You lost your sister, though. That must have been traumatic,” Fly says softly.
I nod. But I know that isn’t the reason for what happened last night.
It was Muriel. It was what Muriel did to me.
Fly squeezes my hand. “Anyway, I have a feeling all the detentions will end once the Princes return.”
“Yeah, although I don’t like having to rely on them beingaround not to fall apart.”
“There’s nothing wrong with relying on people,” Fly says. “Or trusting them.”
I nod. Deep inside, I know he’s right. It’s just hard to unlearn years and years of behavior that has kept me safe, if alone and unhappy.
Clare sighs and looks off toward the boy she’s been mooning over. “I’d happily rely on them.”
“Have you asked him yet?” I ask. It’s been weeks and she still hasn’t plucked up the courage, inventing new and ever ridiculous excuses not to every time I raise the topic.
Her gaze flicks to Fly, her cheeks redden, and she shakes her head.
Fly’s eyes narrow. “Ask who what?”
Clare lays her forehead on the table and folds her arms over her head.
“She wants to ask that boy over there if he’d like to have dinner with her.”
“So why doesn’t she?”
“Too scared,” Clare says, her voice muffled.
“Don’t be dumb,” Fly says, taking a hold of her hand and attempting to yank her to her feet. They spend a few minutes tussling. “Jeez, you’re stronger than you look. Also, everyone is starting to look.”
Immediately, Clare stops resisting and lets Fly pull her to her feet.
