The Primal of Life stared directly into the alcove I knelt in, and I could no longer keep my eyes open. Wetness gathered against my lashes as they lowered, but I still felt his stare, as hot as the sun itself—as warm as the gift throbbing in my chest.
By nightfall the day of the Rite, a faint ache had started in my jaw again. Nothing like before, but restlessness still invaded me. I moved aimlessly through the Primal Gardens, not feeling up to traveling beyond Wayfair, even though the Great Hall was chock-full of nobles and others celebrating the Rite. I had managed to avoid my mother, an act that would be harder once the guests left. Then, she was sure to summon me.
I sighed, my mind drifting back to the Sun Temple and the Primal of Life. A shiver crawled along the nape of my neck as I stopped in front of the night-blooming roses near the entrance to the gardens. They trailed across the ground and over the large basin of the water fountain. Kolis’s attention focused on me had to be my imagination. The alcove I’d knelt in had been packed with people, but I thought of my gift and its source. It must have come from him.
A high, piercing whistle snapped my head up and around, toward the harbor. A shower of white sparks erupted high in the sky over the bay of the Stroud Sea. Another high-pitched scream of fireworks went up, this time exploding in dazzling, red sparks.
Drawn to the fireworks, I left the Primal Gardens and stepped under the breezeway. The bluffs would be the perfect viewing spot. Maybe afterward, I would visit the lake. I hadn’t returned since the night Ash had been there. I didn’t know if that was because I feared the lake would no longer feel—
“Sera,” came the soft whisper.
I stopped, turning to my left. “Ezra? What are you doing out here instead of…?” Words died on my tongue as I got a good look at my stepsister in the dim lamplight of the breezeway. Her features were pale and drawn, and…
My stomach dropped as my gaze swept over the splotches of dark red that stained her bodice. There were even reddish-brown spots on the green of her gown. “Are you hurt? Did someone harm you?” Everything in me went still and empty. I would do terrible, horrible things to anyone who dared to touch her. “Who do I need to hurt?”
Ezra didn’t even blink at my demand. “I’m fine. I’m not injured. The blood isn’t mine, but I…I need your help.”
A little bit of relief seeped into me as I stared at her. “Whose blood are you covered in?” I asked, searching her gaze in the soft glow of the gas lanterns. My eyes narrowed. “Do you need help burying a body?”
“Good gods, I hope you’re joking.”
I wasn’t.
“Though, you are who I would come to if I needed help burying a body,” she amended. “I feel as if you would be adeptly skilled at such an endeavor, and I know you would take that secret to your grave.”
Well, that didn't feel like a glowing attribute one should be proud of. But what she said was no lie.
“But that is neither here nor there. I do need your help, Sera. Quite desperately.” She clasped her hands together. “Something terrible has happened, and you’re the only person who can help.”
For an entirely different reason, the churning surged back to life as I spared the breezeway a glance. It was empty. For now. “Ezra—”
“It’s Mari. You remember her, right? She—”
“Yes, I remember your childhood friend who you are still friends with and who I just saw earlier today at the Temple,” I interrupted, wondering if Ezra had lied and she had injured her head. “What happened to her?”
“Another child needed our help. It wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. The girl had been living on the streets by the Three Stones—you know the place?”
“Yes.” My gaze searched hers. The pub was in Lower Town. “What happened there?”
“It’s all very confusing. We were supposed to retrieve her, and with everyone celebrating the Rite, tonight was our best chance. That was all.” Ezra spoke in a low, hushed voice as she started walking, giving me no other option but to follow her. She led me out from the breezeway and into the neatly manicured courtyard, toward the stables as another firework exploded over the sea, casting a blue shadow across her features. “And we found her immediately. She was in a bit of a bedraggled state, dirty and unkempt,” she rambled on, a trait we shared when nervous, even if we didn’t share a drop of blood. “And so very scared, Sera.”
“What happened?” I repeated.
“I don’t really know. It all seemed to happen in a matter of seconds,” she said as we rounded the corner, and the stables came into view, lit by numerous oil lanterns. Immediately, my gaze focused on the unmarked carriage Ezra used for such purposes. It was parked a bit off from the entrance to the stables, mostly in the shadows of the interior wall. Tiny bumps erupted on my skin, despite the warmth of the air.
My steps slowed, but Ezra walked faster. “Some kind of argument broke out between a few men in the bar, and it carried outside. Someone threw a tankard, and it frightened the little girl. She ran back toward the den, to this—this alley she’d been living in and—” Ezra sucked in a sharp breath as we neared the silent carriage. She reached for the door as white embers lit the sky beyond the wall.
All thoughts of escaping and the ship vanished. Dim light from an oil lamp spilled out from the carriage as Ezra opened the door. “The men started fighting outside, and Mari was caught in the middle of it when she ran after the girl. I think they believed she was another male. Her cloak was up, you see?” Ezra climbed in, holding the door open for me. “She got knocked down and hit her head on either one of the buildings or the road. I don’t know, but…”
The first thing I saw were slender legs encased in black breeches, bent at the knees, and hands limp in a lap. Then a beige blouse untucked and wrinkled beneath a sleeveless tunic, stained with blood at the shoulders and collar. I lifted my gaze to Mari’s face. Blood smeared the rich brown of her forehead. Eyes I remembered being a sharp black were halfway closed. Her lips were parted as if she were inhaling.
But no breath entered the lungs of the woman propped on the bench, slumped against the wall of the carriage.
I looked at Ezra as she crouched, picking up a bloodied rag. “She’s dead,” I told her.
“I know.” Ezra looked over at me. “I think she—” She drew in another too-short breath. “I was bringing her here for the Healer, but she…she passed right before I found you. She hasn’t been dead long.”
I stiffened. “Ezra—”
Her eyes met mine. “She doesn’t have to stay dead, Sera.”
Chapter 18
“I haven’t forgotten what you did when we were children,” Ezra said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “When that ugly cat of yours—”
“His name was Butters,” I cut in. “And he wasn’t ugly.”
Her brows lifted. “He looked like he crawled out of the depths of the Shadowlands.”
“There is no need to disparage Butters’ memory like that. He was just…” The tabby cat formed in my mind, complete with a half missing ear and patchy fur. “He was just different.”
“Different or not, you brought Butters back to life when he got into that poison. You touched him, and that cat sprang to life.”