Fire and Bone (Otherborn #1)(48)

Aelia rolls her eyes. “Great plan, Faelan. Take her to the wacky man in the woods.” She leans back on her elbows, apparently done caring.

After another several minutes of Aelia and me sitting in silence with Lailoken’s voice humming in the background, the wise man finally pauses and sighs heavily. “Well, well, the spirit lingers. But she must be fed. Now or never, whatever the weather.”

Aelia groans in annoyance. “What in the name of Danu is he talking about now?”

I ignore her and ask the wise man, “Sage’s spirit is anchored again? How can you be sure?” She’s not moving, not even breathing. Her wound is still gaping.

“Oh, she was never gone and done with, not this one,” he says. “Can’t you smell her warmth and roses in the flames? All those breads and hopes are still deep in her gut—I think you got lost coming here. She was fine as rain and sunshine.”

Aelia sits up straight. “What?”

“No,” I say, panic swirling in my chest again. “She’s still dead. Her spirit . . .” I can’t smell her spark at all. And I can’t take her back like this. I can’t leave her broken and lost. Not this girl.

The wise man shakes his head, his odd bird’s nest hat flopping to the side. “She’s all tucked tight in there, safe and sound. The child she is, it’s lovely to have found her at last.”

I stare at Sage’s cold body. What am I missing? Even in hibernation, a fire elemental carries a sense of life, though it’s weak. Heat in the body, color in the skin, a fluttering energy left behind, like dying embers. But Sage is a corpse, her skin now tinged in violet, dark circles rimming her eyes.

“Which one?” Lailoken asks, bringing my attention back to him.

Aelia frowns. “Which what, weirdo?”

I consider warning her away from insulting the powerful man but decide it’s useless. I’m getting annoyed in a grand way myself.

“Which one”—the wise man’s brow goes up—“will feed the princess?”





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 Kieran sliced her open and bled her dry.

Aelia looks nervous but she scoots back, opening up room for me to lie beside the demi’s body. I pull off my torque to allow myself to be as open as possible, then I slide off my shirt before settling in the clover. “It’s fine, Lia,” I say. “It’s worth a shot.”

She just shakes her head, biting her lip.

“Ah, good, good, Mr. Winter,” Lailoken says, standing and moving to the table, plucking up one of the bottles. “A little pinch of devil’s bane and thornblood.” He pulls out the cork and sprinkles black dust over my chest. “This should spark the flame.” He smiles down on me like I’m a loaf of bread he’s about to toss in the oven. He motions to Sage. “Now take her hand and place it on your chest.”

“Thornblood will make the connection too strong,” Aelia says, sounding worried now. “Shouldn’t we at least find some wolfsbane for protection? I can form a light ring with it.”

Lailoken scoffs. “Foolishness. Nothing counters thornblood except mapleweed. Typical druid.”

“Whatever, old fart, if you get my friend killed, I’ll turn you into a toad.”

“Unless I make you warty and green first.” Lailoken grins wickedly.

I reach over and pick up Sage’s limp wrist. “Let’s just get it over with.” I place her arm across my chest, pressing her palm down on my sternum with my other hand.

My pulse speeds up, but I brush away the thought of what I’m doing. I don’t think about the danger or the possible uselessness of this whole thing. Because what if nothing happens? Or what if something does? Either way, I’m royally bolloxed.

The chill of Sage’s skin is striking, and I have to focus on not feeling it, not feeling her death, as I turn my head to look at her and say the usual invitation, wondering if she can even hear me. “You may take from me if you need to.”

Everything is still, silent. Even Lailoken’s fingers tapping on the table fade into the background.

“Demi,” I say, “don’t be afraid, take what you need.” I add in a whisper, “It’s okay, Sage.”

Something pricks the center of my chest, shocking me, and I hiss in a breath.