I breathe deep and focus on the fiery thread. Instead of pulling, I let it unspool. Emberdione spreads her wings, and light wraps around her form before dissolving into motes of flame that fade into nothing.
The chamber is colder without her presence, but I still feel that thread of connection humming in my chest.
“Well done,” Rowena says. “Remember, a Phoenix is not a pet to be kept, but a partner to be respected. Call her when you must, release her when you can.”
“Thank you,” I say, the words inadequate for the knowledge Rowena just shared with me, but they’re all I have. “For teaching me about Emberdione.”
The lines near Rowena’s eyes deepen as she smiles. “Knowledge, when shared, grows like a garden. Today we planted seeds.”
Rowena reaches into the folds of her surcoat and pulls out a small crystal vial. Golden liquid catches the light as she holds it out to me. “Here, drink this Vohlcom Elixir. You’ll need it.”
My fingers close around the warm glass. The honey-sweet scent hits my nose before I even uncork it. I tip the vial back, and warmth floods my mouth—sweet at first, then spicy.
Heat spreads through my chest, down my arms, into my fingertips. My muscles unwind, tension releasing like ice thawing in the spring. Each breath comes easier, deeper, as if I’ve been running for hours and finally found rest.
“Better?” Rowena asks.
I flex my hands, marveling at how the heaviness has vanished. “Much better. Thank you.”
She smiles and turns to the shelves, straightening vials and books.
I lick my bottom lip and ask the question that has been burning at my thoughts since I first saw her in the Argent Chamber. “Why are you here?”
“Becauseyouneeded me. And Aleksander asked me to.”
Curse Aleksander.
“What about your loyalty to your chieftain?” I ask, refusing to cower from this line of questioning.
Rowena turns and studies me for several moments before speaking. “I am showing him loyalty by aiding his wife.”
Is she?
Or is she really helping Aleksander?
The question haunts me as I slip from the room.
Torchlight flickers over the walls as I step into the corridor and draw in a quick breath through my teeth. While I learned more about my crimson magic, Emerin was still locked in her room.
My steps slow as I reach her bedchamber and press my forehead against the door. “Em, are you all right?”
Her footsteps shuffle across the room, then stop near the door. “I’m well, Rora. Are you?”
Emotions tighten in my throat as I fight the powerful urge to tear the door down. “I’m well.”
“I hear the lie in your voice,” Emerin says, her words far too keen, too perceptive.
“You always see through my lies,” I admit. “But I worry about you.”
“Don’t.” Her voice carries that familiar warmth, that gentleness. “Focus on yourself. You’re the one who needs to stay strong.”
I curl my fingers into tight fists. “How can you say that when you’re locked in your bedchamber?”
“Because I know things will work out.” A soft thud suggests she’s leaning against her side of the door. “They always do, in their own way. Remember when we were little, and that storm destroyed the garden? You cried for days, but the next spring, everything grew back stronger.”
I smile as I recall that day. “How do you remember that?”
“Because it made you so sad.” She pauses for a moment, then continues. “Trust in yourself, Rora, and everything else will fall into place.”
