Page 88 of The Ember and the Emerald

He ran. And ran. When I’d caught my breath, I urged him to set me down, but he didn’t. Just kept going. Maybe we lost the pack. Finally, we reached a small, flowery valley at the base of a white stone mountain. The birds landed all around us, listening.

“Ian knows we’re here,” I grumbled. The sun had begun its descent, slipping behind the towering structure, casting us in shadows. “Those tattletale birds keep no secrets from him.”

Jasher sighed. “For the time being, we have bigger concerns.” Tightening his hold, he unfurled his wings and hauled us both into the air.

Wind whistled past my ears as we ascended the mountain and plunged into a cavern carved halfway to the peak. He set me on my feet. The birds tried to enter with us, shrieking and fluttering.

Jasher released me and turned on them with a flash of teeth. “Not now.”

His snarl sent them scattering, feathers and panic dissolving into the mist.

I turned slowly, taking in our shelter. The cavern walls were smooth and pale as polished ivory, veined with crystal that caught the low light and scattered it like diamonds. A fire pit waited at the center, stacked and ready. A single blanket lay stretched near the back wall, deliberate.

Without a conscious command from my mind, my arms automatically wound around my middle. Romantic comedies often relied on the old “only one bed” trope. Something we’d experienced during our last adventure. Here we were with only one bed again.

“Should we secure the entrance?” I asked, aware of how exposed we were.

“And block our only exit?” he countered. “No. Anything determined enough to reach us should be killed on sight.” His mouth twitched. “Besides, I’ve made this mountain a nightmare to climb.”

Before I could respond, a familiar plastic voice cut in. “Hi. I’m Kevin, your unemotional support companion. Press my buttons for a giggle.”

The toy sat proudly on a rock, surveying the cavern like a sentry. I rolled my eyes—then froze as insight expanded. I’d never been here in real life, but I had been here before. A vision rose unbidden. Heat. Stolen breath. Jasher’s mouth pressing into mine until the world narrowed to fire and promise.

My pulse skidded. I turned to him, trembling. He didn’t seem to notice; he was busy wiping blood from his wrist.

“We’ll stay the night,” he said. “Leave at first light.”

Later, I told myself. I’d unpack the vision later. Right now, priorities. “Let me tend your wounds.”

“I can do it. I have a feeling you’re about to be very busy.” His gaze sharpened. “Allow me to introduce you to… me.”

He gestured to the rear of the cavern.

I turned, air lodging in my throat as a young boy stepped from the shadows.

27

SPUN SUGAR DREAMS

The boy had sunset irises, a perma-scowl, and a dagger in each hand. He was bare-chested, wearing only a loincloth.

I didn’t need to ask. “Young Jasher,” I breathed out. I’d call him Jashy.

His grip on the blades tightened, knuckles blanching white. “Are you the one he keeps blubbering about?” When I didn’t answer within a millisecond, his glare snapped to the older version. “Is she?”

“Blubbering?” I asked, dazed. How many people could say they’d met the childhood version of their monstra situationship while the adult version stood five feet away?

Jasher winced. “Meeting him has been…enlightening.”

A tiny giggle slipped out before I could stop it.

In an exaggerated mimic of his older self, Jashy said, “Around her, bad thoughts go quiet...forget I’m a weapon…wanna be better. Smells like home.”

Laughter spilled from me.

Jasher made a strangled sound. “I do not speak like that.”

Jashy squinted at him. “You do when you think no one is listening.”