Before She Ignites (Fallen Isles Trilogy #1)(34)

Someone was coming to get me.

I tried to move—scoot out, sit up—but my limbs were too heavy and held me down. Even if I’d been able to move them, would I have been able to tell? The darkness made me question everything.

“Hello?” At least, I tried to ask. What really emerged was a faint, desperate croak.

The footsteps continued on like they hadn’t heard me. Because they were hallucinations. Of course. Anyway, footsteps couldn’t hear. Only people. And hallucinatory footsteps couldn’t belong to people.

Laughter threatened again, and I didn’t have the energy to stamp it down. But it didn’t matter, because my aching throat closed and refused to do any more. My entire body was breaking down. I could almost feel my organs slouching from hunger, becoming brittle and scattering apart from lack of water.

I was so thirsty. Even hunger fell behind the aching thirst.

For a while, the footsteps continued. Slowly. Maddeningly. I tried to count them, but as before, the numbers fell beneath the agony of starvation.

Tap, tap, tap. Like the quiet code.

Tap, tap, tap. Like my father’s fingers against his desk.

Tap, tap, tap. Like the weak motion of my heart.

Everything grew sluggish. Thoughts. Movements. Awareness.

Then the footsteps vanished.

I was alone.

Again.

In the dark.

As consciousness fluttered in and out—mostly out—the darkness crept toward me. Between the metal grille. Through Aaru’s hole. Across the floor.

The darkness went on and on, until it devoured me.





CHAPTER ELEVEN




A LIST WITHOUT NUMBERS:

Drops of water in Aaru’s cup.

Too far away to reach.

How did anyone make noorestones go dark?

That wasn’t supposed to be possible.

I wished I were a dragon.

I’d burn everything.

“MIRA?”

It sounded like Aaru was here with me, but his voice came from a million leagues away.

“Mira.” It was Gerel this time. Even farther. Why were they all so far away? Didn’t they know I couldn’t reach them, or move, or speak? Didn’t they know I’d give anything to answer except . . .

I wished I were a dragon. I’d . . .

The scrape of wood on stone caught my attention, like silk snagging on a nail. The sound was familiar. I’d been here before.

“Mira.” That was definitely Aaru, or at least a convincing hallucination. Like the clanging. Like the dragon face. Like the footsteps. He wasn’t real.

I wasn’t real.

“Must drink.” A note of urgency filled Aaru’s voice. “Mira. Drink.”

Drink. Oh, Damyan and Darina. I was so, so thirsty. But when I opened my mouth to say so, only a low groan emerged. My tongue was dry. Swollen. Scratchy. It hurt to move. I couldn’t even open my eyes because of the dryness. Like a desert. Some parts of Anahera were desert. I had visited the island three times, but never the desert part. Only one species of dragon lived in the sandy wasteland: the Drakontos sol, which was small and sand colored, and covered in scales that absorbed the sun’s light and converted it to fire energy. Most dragons couldn’t do that.

“Cup,” Aaru whispered. “Take.”

A cup? Of water?

Through the smoke filling my mind, I recalled the cup in Aaru’s cell—how I’d been listening to it fill and straining to reach it, desperately thirsty. But the cup was still on the other side of the wall, wasn’t it? Sitting in the middle of Aaru’s cell, collecting water, taunting me.

Or had it moved? I’d heard Aaru’s voice, but I’d heard footsteps before, too. It seemed unlikely he was truly here, but maybe. Maybe he’d come back and moved the cup for me. I needed only to pick it up and tip the water into my mouth.

I had to try.

My hand was too heavy to lift off my stomach, which felt too low, too hollow. I opened my mouth again, jaw popping in protest, and sucked in a shallow breath. Like maybe I could breathe in the water.

Frustrated tapping sounded from beyond the hole. I just wanted to go to sleep again. If I couldn’t reach the water, sleep would help.

“What’s happening over there?” Gerel almost sounded worried. This was definitely a hallucination. “Is she drinking yet?”

Two taps: long and short. I knew that one. ::No.:: Then his voice came, too: “No.”

“It’s been four days. Even if she rationed her water, she’s dehydrated. You’ll have to help her.”

The cup hissed over the stone floor, so close to my face. Oh how I wanted that water.

And then.

Then cool skin brushed my jaw. Knuckles braced against my chin. “Open,” he whispered, and I did, and water trickled onto my face.

I sputtered as liquid found its way up my nose and dribbled down my cheeks, but after a moment, a stream of water poured between my lips, filling my mouth. Wonderful, mineral-sharp ceiling water I could feel soaking into my parched skin.

He stopped pouring too quickly, but that was for the best.

I couldn’t swallow.

My tongue was a dead weight in my mouth. Water flooded through my sinuses and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. Terror spiked. Abruptly, I was awake. Alert. And acutely aware that I was about to die.

I gagged and coughed, struggling for air. It seemed so unfair that my first sip of water in four aeons would drown me.