Recurve

The tip of his sword didn’t waver as it rested just above her left breast. “I could kill you.” But he hesitated and it was enough for her to do . . . whatever it was she did.

A flashing glow of pink surrounded her like a strange Aurora Borealis. “You can’t kill me.”

His arms shook and he lowered my body. “I can’t kill you.”

The queen leaned forward, pushing the blade away with disgust. “I own you.”

He lowered his head, shame and guilt flooding him. He’d failed as an Ender. He’d let his charges die while he was rutting with a bitch in heat. Did it matter that he could see now that Belladonna had likely been acting on her mother’s orders? No, it didn’t. What mattered was that he was a failure, that he’d allowed those he had been trained to protect die.

“You own me.”

I jerked out of the memories and lay there, hands wrapped around Ash’s biceps, the cherry blossoms swirling around us in a vortex of color and scents that stole my breath.

We lay on our sides, facing each other. Ash’s face was slack with sleep, the lines that normally curved downward between his eyes smooth. It made him look younger than he was and a wash of pity rushed through me. On impulse, I reached forward and brushed a hand over his cheek. “I’m sorry she hurt you too.” His eyelids fluttered and I pulled back before he knew I’d touched him.

“I think we’re here.” I released his other bicep, sat up, and looked around us, choosing not to discuss the invasion of privacy. Maybe if we didn’t talk about it, we could act like it hadn’t happened.

We were at the base of a mountain, cherry trees planted in precise rows. “This doesn’t seem like a place they’d call the Pit.”

With a grunt, Ash got to his feet. “The Pit is inside the mountain, Seeder.” He didn’t say “idiot,” but I heard the unspoken word. I glared at him, pity gone. Maybe he didn’t know what I’d seen in his mind. Maybe it was best that way.

“Yeah, we haven’t got to that lesson yet. Care to fill me in?”

Rolling his eyes heavenward, his lips moving in what I had no doubt was prayer, he then motioned for me to follow him. “The Pit is in the center of the mountain and goes all the way to the core of the earth, to where Fire is created. The rest of the Salamanders’ home is pretty standard. Not so unlike ours in some ways, completely opposite in others.”

“Cryptic,” I muttered.

“You’ll see soon enough what I mean.”

I was beside him as we walked, and I fiddled with the knife at my belt. “You think they can help?”

“They have to.”

Except that I knew that wasn’t the truth and I didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that.

“They’ll think we’re contagious, won’t they?” I whispered and Ash’s jaw tightened.

“Let’s hope not.”

We approached a large slab of black rock embedded in the mountain, smooth and shiny in the sun. Flames were carved into it along with powerful symbols. Fire and death, fire and life. Symbols for all four of the families. I ran a finger down the smooth surface, amazed at how warm it was.

Ash pushed my hand off the slab. “Don’t touch if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

I glared at him, but was curious. He put a hand to the slab, over the etching of a redwood and his fingers pulsed green, three times. Then he stepped back. “Now we wait.”

And wait we did. Hours passed. Hope faded. The cherry blossoms continued to swirl around us.

They were blooming out of season, the heat from the mountain under them giving them a false spring year round. At least, that was what Ash said.

“Can we force our way in?” I asked, standing to look at the black slab for what was probably the hundredth time.

He snorted. “And how would you like to do that? You are useless, and even I know my limits. I can’t force their hands.”

“I am not useless.” I put a hand over the redwood tree etched in the stone and thought about the green glow. I closed my eyes. My father would die if we didn’t get him the help he needed. Swallowing hard, I let out a slow breath and carefully reached for my link to the power of the earth.

The pain was intense, driving through my brain, but I didn’t stop trying. Spasms wracked my body, and it was all I had to keep my hands pressed into the etching, to force whatever power I could grasp at it. Pain and power, they were wrapped in a tight bundle inside me. I couldn’t have one without the other. Moisture slid down my cheeks as I fought to reach the power, fought to find the words. “Please, my father is dying, please help us!”

A sonic thump slammed into my chest, throwing me back from the doorway and into Ash. He caught me with ease, held me up. His hands around my waist tightened.

“What did you do?”

“I . . . .” I put a hand to my head, feeling as if there should have been a crack wide open through my skull. “I don’t know.”

“I think they’re going to answer you,” he said, not letting me go. I forced myself to my feet, though it took me three tries, and my legs barely held me up.

In front of us, the black slab shimmered; the images engraved turning a bright molten lava. Even from fifteen feet away, the heat scorched, making me turn my face to the side.

The black rock continued to heat until the entire thing was a bright, vibrant red. Melting away, the doorway opened deep into the heart of the mountain. Expecting a dark, dingy hole that smelled like sulfur and death, I couldn’t believe the truth of what I saw. The walls were lined with gemstones, glittering and brilliant, and they picked up the light from outside, illuminating our path. Cherry blossoms blew through the doorway, bringing the smell of the clean spring air with them.