Recurve

The term “light me on fire” had never held so much meaning. My veins pulsed with heat that scorched along nerve endings, through muscles and bones, as if my entire body had been dunked into boiling water and had the same liquid shot through my innards. I fought the urge to arch, to keep my back flat on the bed, but it was so very, very hard. Tears leaked from my eyes as my knee put itself back together.

Teeth clamped shut, I sought something to focus on, something to ground myself with. Cactus was across the room, his back to me, his body trembling—the coward. Smit had already turned away to some other task.

Which left Ash.

I grabbed his forearms as a spasm of fire raced through me, a gasp slipping past my lips.

“It will be over quickly, just breathe.”

I stared up at him, tracing the shape of his face with my eyes. Dark gold lashes, a scar over his left eye so faint I’d not noticed it before, a sharply angled jaw line, ears tight to his head, but the left one had a nick out of the top, maybe it happened when he got the scar over his left eye. I’d have to ask him. I sucked in a deep breath, the fire in me blazing around my busted up knee. Full lips, straight teeth, and a strong profile, nose a little on the crooked side with a bump in the ridge, probably another injury. Air escaped me in a whoosh, and the heat in my body slowed a fraction.

Honey eyes, he had liquid honey for eyes that no doubt burned hot when he made love to someone. My eyes flew wide, shock hitting me hard. I pulled my hands from his forearms, the heat still burning through me, but not with the intensity it had started with.

“Thanks, I think the worst has passed.”

“Can you stand?”

I slid sideways, ignoring the fact that my body still wrestled with the potion Smit had given me. “No, but I can talk-k-k-k-k-k.” The stutter at the end hit me alongside a particularly sharp pain in my knee. I clamped a hand around it.

“Smit, what do we have to do to convince you to give us the cleansing fire?” I bit out the words. I massaged my knee, tried to focus on what we were here for and not the draining effect the healing was having on me.

The healer let out a sigh. “I am a healer, and you now that my first and most important oath is to help any who ask for it.”

Ash tensed beside me, though I didn’t know why. What Smit was saying was what we were banking on.

I forced myself to my feet. “Yes, we know that, and know we’re begging for your help.”

Smit gave me a soft, sad smile. “I would help you if I could, truly, you must believe that. But there is a small problem.”

I swallowed, praying to the mother goddess that the problem was indeed small, that it would be easily surmountable. A fee for his services, a favor given in return, a reward. Anything.

Orange eyes met mine. “The cleansing fire has been taken by another. Apparently, you are not the only ones plagued by plague.”

I was standing without realizing it. “Who . . . who took the cleansing fire?”

Wiping his hands on a thick white towel, he tucked the edge of it into his belt. “The Sylph’s had one of their Enders come for the fire just this morning.”

Jaw clenched, I didn’t realize I was walking toward Smit until I looked down at him, seeing the bald spot on the top of his head, spreading out like a cancer. “What was his name?”

I didn’t really have to ask his name; I already knew.

Smit looked at me, then to Ash and back to me.

“Wicker.”

Chapter 17

The Sylph’s name echoed in the room. You could have heard a pinworm hit the floor.

“Do you know him?” Cactus crossed to me, his nose wrinkling as he drew too close and got a whiff of the healing tonic. A gag curled him away from me.

I nodded. “Yes, he killed Bramley.” I whispered the truth out loud and behind me I felt Ash stiffen. Cactus laughed, though it was forced. “Lark, I heard about your delusions once I was here, that you tried to make it out that Cassava killed your mother and little brother. But I had no idea it had gone so far—”

“They are not delusions¸ half-breed. You were there, Cactus,” Ash said, his voice soft and deadly. “You were there that day and Cassava stole your memories. She blocked Lark from reaching her powers and left me to carry the knowledge, knowing no one would believe an Ender’s word against a queen’s.”

Cactus looked from me to Ash. “She’s convinced you too? Shit, that’s partly why I was taken away, you know. She kept trying to get me to believe this dream she had was reality, and not what had happened. The lung burrowers swept through, the same as they are now. People die; that is life. Get over it.” His words were harsh and I realized he was not the boy I’d grown up with. I didn’t know him anymore. I backed away, bumping into Ash.

“We have to go. Thank you for your help, both of you.”

Smit cleared his throat. “If you are going to find this Ender who took the cleansing fire, I will give you a piece of advice. He was not going back to the Eyrie.”

My eyes shot to the healer. “What do you mean?” And how in the seven hells could he know that?

Smit blushed. “He dropped a note on his way out, I tried to get it to him, I did. But he left before I could . . . .” He dug into his pocket and held out a thin piece of paper, crumpled and stained. I took it from him and read it, horror filling me. I handed it to Ash.

“Son of a bitch in heat. She’s going to kill your father,” Ash whispered.

The note’s words were imprinted on my mind.