Fire and Bone Read online

  EIGHTEEN FAELAN Bending space is never as simple as walking from one location to another. It wreaks havoc on a cellular level for a human, and Aelia’s blood is more human than Other. While I manage to land on my feet as the passageway releases me, Sage still in my arms, Aelia collapses on the mossy ground in front of me with a whoosh of breath, gasping and gagging. Then she crawls into a cluster of high ferns and begins to vomit. I only have to crouch for a moment, holding Sage tight to my chest to keep from dropping her. I breathe through the flip of my gut, the buzzing in my muscles, the fading crackle in my ears, used to the odd sensations after hundreds of years of traveling through passageways. Aelia, however, continues to throw up. I steady myself and look around. We’re in a small thicket. There won’t be any humans this deep in the forest, only animals and the occasional wysp—a small creature made of water that lives in the river just north of here and sometimes hides in the fog.

  NINETEEN FAELAN He wants us to feed Sage? He knows it’s not safe to feed a demi before she’s learned to control her powers—definitely not a demi who manifests fire. In normal circumstances, it would be a deadly plan, but with Sage being a corpse, I’m not sure what it means. She would have to link in to her prey; she’d have to initiate the connection to pull life. Aelia and I can’t just pour our energy over her. The wise man appears to be considering the two of us, like he’s trying to decide whom to toss overboard. “The druid would work, I think,” he finally says. “If she’s gobbled up in a blink, it won’t be much trouble. Useless any day of the week.” He shrugs. “What a gentleman,” Aelia says. I’m dead either way because Marius is going to kill me if I bring back a corpse. “I’ll do it,” I say. Obviously, it’s going to be me. I would never put my leader’s daughter in harm’s way, even though, at this stage in the death, it would be less dangerous. Gods, it’s been more than an hour since K

  TWENTY SAGE Something moves against my arm. My mind surfaces from sleep in a rush, awareness filtering in. The feel of soft pillows under me, the smell of soil, of damp green things—it’s soothing and lovely. I open my heavy eyelids, but everything is blurry. I can’t see right. Am I still in the alley? No, it smelled like soot and smog there, and nothing was comfortable. Memories appear like cloudy puzzle pieces: the creatures slinking from the puddles, the dark-haired guy, he . . . he—cut my neck! I sit up in a rush, hand going to my neck where the strange raven guy was gripping me. Am I in a forest? I’m surrounded by trees. And under my fingertips there’s a thin bumpy line of skin on my neck—a scar? Faelan told me about a dark prince, and I laughed, I thought it was so funny, that Faelan was crazy, or I was crazy, someone had to be crazy, because guys called the Dark Prince are only in books and movies that nerds like Ziggy talk about. They’re vampires or wizards, and that stuff is .

  TWENTY-ONE SAGE Amazingly enough, my closet isn’t just a smaller version of Aelia’s; it’s actually got stuff in it that I like. There’s edge and grit, and not a pink thread in sight. It’s still all completely overpriced label wear, but at least it’s not Kardashian chic. I can’t let myself get used to it, though. I never stay anywhere long, and I doubt this time’ll be any different. I pull out a bra, a T-shirt, and jeans, and I’m shocked when the jeans fit kind of tight, and so does the bra. I don’t even remember the last time my clothes weren’t baggy. I check the sizes and they’re what I would’ve thought fit me. But the hips and butt are pretty snug in the jeans, and the elastic on the bra is digging in under my arms. I move to the full-length mirror. My face . . . is something wrong with the mirror? My face looks rounder. My hair is damp from my shower, but it seems longer, thicker at my neck now, and hanging farther past my chin in the front—is that right? I step closer to my reflect

  TWENTY-TWO SAGE As he reads over more of the squiggly lines, I drink my water and study his profile. He’s less tense, like he’s leaning into it all. I’m not sure if that should make me relax too, or put me more on guard. Once I’ve had enough of a pause, we move back to our spots, and he has me close my eyes and go over the events in the alley again. And again. He asks me to try to be more aware of my body, my pulse, when the emotions come. Each time we go through it, he asks me to tell him more of what I was feeling last night, more of what happened. I don’t tell him everything Kieran said, or how those silver eyes hypnotized me, but I try to be as honest as I can. Each time, the heat wave takes over later than the time before. The cadence, as he called it, stretches out several more seconds until, on the third try, he tells me to open my eyes, and I watch the last of the flames slide over my arms before sinking back into my skin. “Remember what your energy is, that it’s fire,” he says

  TWENTY-THREE SAGE Aelia doesn’t even knock—she just comes into the cottage exactly as the clock ticks over to 4:00 p.m. Three girls from the other night at the club follow her in: Freya, the zit critic, and the mousy girl. “You’re early,” I grumble, too exhausted to get off the couch. “We’ve got work to do!” Aelia says, holding up several makeup bags. I was enjoying staring at the ceiling and finding animal shapes in the plaster. And not thinking about tonight. Because then I have to think about Faelan. And I really don’t want to think about Faelan right now. The training thing was almost going well—he’d barely grunted at me the whole time. But he got so intense when the protector thing was brought up. And everything went wacky. I left, letting him believe that I didn’t trust him. And maybe I don’t. I shouldn’t. But why the hell did I bring up Kieran? I handled it completely wrong. I made him feel like I was considering dumping him for a creep. I’m not sure what I was thinking. What a

  TWENTY-FOUR FAELAN After Sage left to get ready, I didn’t have the balls to call Marius and tell him what’s coming tonight when she’s asked who she chooses for her protector—how it’s probably not going to be me. How it might even be bloody Kieran at this point for all I know. Because I fucked it up. Instead I went for a swim and showered, reciting Beowulf to quiet the commotion in my head. I’m in an extremely pissy mood by the time I’m ready. I can’t stop thinking about how I grabbed her—what the hell was that? And after what Kieran did to her . . . dick move. I know too little about practicing patience. I was never the right one for this task—I’m not sure what Marius was thinking. I can hear Aelia’s coven out by the pool, and I don’t want to leave my cottage. So I sit in the greenhouse and wait for the sound of Sage’s door opening across the walkway. Time passes slowly. As it becomes obvious we’re going to be late, I consider walking over and banging on Sage’s door. But the less time

  TWENTY-FIVE SAGE “I’m sorry,” Faelan says in a tight voice. “I never should’ve . . . that wasn’t right.” His body is tense enough to crack. He looks ready to bolt. “I’m fine, Faelan,” I say, trying to reassure him. “Everything is fine.” But I can hardly believe what we did. Not just the kiss, which was—wow. My legs are officially useless and I’m ruined forever. But I controlled it. I controlled the hunger. I took that thing in me that I felt this afternoon and forced it down deep until it was barely a buzz in my head. He was right: once I understood it better I could manipulate it. And I did. And then he kissed me. Oh wow, did he kiss me. Not that he’s happy about it. He’s obviously not. I’d be offended by his reaction if I wasn’t so relieved that I’d pushed back this thing inside me. “Thank you,” I say. His brow goes up in surprise. “For helping me.” I can’t keep a grin from surfacing. “I can’t believe I stopped it. I feel so much better.” He watches me like he doesn’t believe me, and

  TWENTY-SIX FAELAN I stand at Sage’s side, getting ready for the demis to begin their introductions. The awareness of my blood on her forehead is nearly overwhelming, the small crescent moon showing me as her chosen shadow, tied to her as long as she wishes. And after what I did beside the fountain, that idea is . . . terrifying. Some of the most powerful demis in the West are here to witness my soul’s suicide—even the Cast’s envoy is looking on with sharp eyes. It’s rare for so many to be present at an Introduction. The Emergence ceremony is where the full court gathers. Ton
ight, however, there are several representatives from every line in attendance. The curiosity about the newblood is strong. And I have a feeling Marius is about to have serious competition for her loyalty. Sage is a ruby appearing in an ash heap, and the world’s head is turning to see it catch the light. She’s standing tall in spite of the fear I can feel on her. I wait just behind her on the small platform as each

  TWENTY-SEVEN SAGE I lean on the counter in the bathroom, pleading with my panicked insides to calm down. What is wrong with me? I can’t understand why I was so shaken by Kieran again. And this time was so much worse. When he whispered to me, I heard a familiar voice. I wanted to do what he said, and I wanted to hear him say my name. It was horrible and wrong, and the things my mind pictured . . . I reach up and touch the thin scar on my neck, reminding myself what he did to me, how much I hate him. Because I do; I hate him with the power of a thousand suns. Even more than I hated him this morning. He makes me feel vulnerable and weak. He takes away my will. And even more frightening, I know he can see it. He’s doing it on purpose. I wonder if it’s some twisted form of revenge for what my sister did, killing his brother. I’m still gripping the small black velvet bag in my hand, the medallion on the torque digging into my palm. A torque that belonged to my sister. My sister who’s in godd

  TWENTY-EIGHT FAELAN I was hoping she’d leave well enough alone, but Astrid has always been the most stubborn woman I know. So I’m not surprised when she slips away from Duncan’s side and approaches me. I am surprised, though, that she’d let people see her speaking to me. “Can we talk?” she asks. “Perhaps we can find a quiet spot, just for a moment.” When I first saw her at the club last night, I was shocked. But after seeing her with my brothers, the way she lets them lord over her, the old anger has bubbled up, the wound she left tearing open a little. “You don’t want to talk to me,” I say. “And I certainly don’t want to talk to you.” Her brow pinches. “I know that I hurt you—” “You betrayed me. There’s a difference.” “I know,” she says. “There’s just so much you don’t understand.” I’m shocked she’d make excuses. To me, of all people. Is she really so clueless that she doesn’t realize how low she sank? There’s a reason I’m an outcast. “I understood a lot more than I bloody wanted to s

  TWENTY-NINE SAGE I’m more than a little relieved when we pull up in front of the Cottages. Neither of us said a word the whole way home. The silence was heavy with horror and unspoken questions. I just saw my first official dead body. And the worst part is, I’m numb now. Maybe I’m in shock. When I realized what I was seeing under that table—the moment my mind registered the human hand, the clothes, the torn flesh—my heart stopped and everything slowed. My mind couldn’t understand what I was seeing, the pieces . . . bile filled my mouth and I wanted to cry, to scream. But then Faelan pulled me away, and icy awareness hit me; nothing would happen because of it. No investigation, no arrests. Nothing. No one would ever know what became of that person. The body was probably one of many in that place. And Kieran was standing right beside it as if it was a piece of dropped meat. On the street, you get used to injustice. The shadows are full of bastards who get away with all kinds of sickening

  THIRTY FAELAN It’s late into the morning and Sage hasn’t emerged from her cottage yet. Marius hasn’t come by to see how she’s doing yet either. Which is maybe a good thing. I feel like I need to talk to her first before I tell him my concerns about Kieran and the new torque. Before I confess what I’ve already kept from him, like the fire, and that kiss. I knock on her cottage door around ten. No answer. I sniff the air for smoke, but I don’t smell anything except the overcast day—the morning dampness of the plants, the crisp water from the lagoon pool. I search for her power, for the connection I should have with her after the ceremony last night, but I don’t sense anything. I’m not sure how to feel about that. I know it’s working to a point, since I felt her anxiety at the tribunal, but I still can’t tell how solid the connection is. It’s possible her power is rejecting it. I turn the knob, and the door clicks open as I call into the entrance, “Sage?” I step inside, looking around. Th

  THIRTY-ONE SAGE “Daddy won’t like this, Faelan,” Aelia says, folding her arms across her chest. “A dream spell can totally backfire. She could get stuck in there.” At first I wasn’t really on board with this idea of Faelan’s—I don’t trust Aelia and don’t want her help with anything. But then I realized I was being stubborn. If I can get this Kieran weirdness off the table, then all I have to think about is learning to control my fire. And that’ll free me from this mental prison I’ve suddenly found myself in. Whatever Aelia does or doesn’t do to me in the meantime won’t matter anymore. I only have ten more days until the Emergence; I’m going to use every second of it to get free of this world—and learn how to live free without endangering myself or anyone else—before the hammer falls. “In spite of your distracting obsession with fashion, Aelia,” Faelan says, “you’re an excellent druid. Even better than your sisters. I know you can do this and make it work.” Her features soften. “You’re

  THIRTY-TWO FAELAN My eyes snap open. I gasp for air, feeling like I haven’t breathed in decades. The chill of the stone room shifts to the warmth of my cottage; the bed melds into my nest; the smell of snow turns to the smell of green life. What did I just see . . . feel? That wasn’t Sage in that vision. It wasn’t Sage. And with sudden clarity I know why Sage feels a connection to Kieran, what memories she’s sensing when she’s with him. It must be one of these dreams. One of Lily’s memories of the king. Because that was Queen Lily. I can barely believe it. Sage was living her sister’s memories in her sleep. A striking, vivid dream of a real moment from long ago. How is that even possible? It’s not possible. Unless . . . Unless Sage was given the blood memories by someone. No. That’s not—it can’t be. Who would do that? And how would I have missed it? It takes a fairly complex spell, and whoever did it would have had to store the memories for centuries. Not to mention the fact that Queen

  THIRTY-THREE SAGE “The protector spell won’t let me hurt you,” he says, his voice tense as he passes the knife back. I take it from him for the second time, the smooth hilt cool against my palm. “Okay,” I say. “I’ll just do a quick cut then—where’s the best spot?” I wave the blade over my forearm. His hands go in his pocket. “Your palm. And you should hurry. I feel like I’m going to come out of my skin if I don’t stop you.” “Right.” Without thinking about it, I press the blade’s edge to the soft flesh of my palm as hard as I can and slice with a quick swipe. I hiss in a breath, my hand throbbing instantly. It’s a good cut, blood pearling up, sliding in a thick coat over my palm, dripping from my fingers to the floor. “Now what?” I ask through my teeth. “You’ll still heal with the torque on, maybe a bit slower, but you shouldn’t be able to release the energy in its element form.” He directs my attention from my bloody hand to the cardboard. “Focus on the pain. Try to push it into the ca

  THIRTY-FOUR FAELAN Sage and I walk down the hall to the red door. It opens before my knuckles hit the wood to knock. Gerald, Marius’s selkie assistant, is there, looking at us with his white eyes. “The master will be out in a moment. Please wait for him there.” He points to the two seats facing the desk. When Sage sits, she grips the arms of the chair, her knuckles turning white. I’m not sure why she’s so tense. It seemed like she was relieved for a second about the torque—for good reason. Her energy being contained will help her have a smoother transition. And it’ll allow for a clearer head when she chooses her House. She’ll still have to deal with the memories, but I’m hoping Marius will have a solution to that, maybe speeding up the process so they’ll fade faster. It doesn’t take long for Marius to emerge from his feeding room. His chest is bare, a towel is wrapped around his neck, and there are drops of water falling from his damp silver hair. The scars from his years as a child sl

  THIRTY-FIVE SAGE I really don’t want to go back to the Cottages. The closer we get, the harder it is to breathe. I should be relaxing into th
e idea of finding a way out of this now. My problems are all solved: my power is contained, I won’t hurt anyone, the dreams will eventually be gone. Yes, I’ll have to deal with them for a while, but I can do that anywhere. There’s no reason to stay and be tortured by this crazy Emergence choice anymore—because how does a person choose their destiny in one week? That’s ridiculous. And I could get free from it tomorrow if I wanted. Be back to depending on myself again. Simple. But deep inside, I know that I won’t. I won’t leave this time. I won’t run. The old me is seriously pissed, and confused. I can’t understand why I’m not willing to leave this behind all of a sudden. “What’s going on, Sage?” Faelan asks as we leave the 10 freeway and merge onto PCH. I’d like to know the answer to that myself. I watch the silver blue of the Pacific appear beside

  THIRTY-SIX SAGE I open my eyes to an unfamiliar world. Then the sound of the waterfall drifts into the room, and I realize this is reality. I rise slowly, uneasy, an odd feeling of disassociation hovering over me. The sensation of the king’s grip on my wrist still lingers, the conflict inside, wanting something I despise. But it was just a dream. I touch the bedspread, making sure the soft yellow cotton is real. Sunlight fills the room. I wonder what time it is. I slide from bed, my muscles protesting as I walk into the front room. The clock on the microwave says it’s ten. Faelan should’ve come to get me by now. But I’m not complaining. I make myself some breakfast, oatmeal and a banana, and then wander into the living room and sit on the couch. I eat the warm oats and stare down at the glass owl next to the black envelope on the coffee table. I know Kieran isn’t the king, and I know I’m not Lily, but all of this is seriously messing with my head. I have this tangle of emotions coiling