Page 40 of Where We Belong

“Okay, but I’m warning you, it’s random.”

“Then let’s see if we can potentially make it, less random. Hold out your hands.”

My reflex reaction is to say, what’s the point? But something he said earlier, about there being a chance this could end differently, stops me. The idea that I might be able to finally control something sparks my fight or flight. Not quite fight but maybe a diet version of it. Here goes nothing. The familiar prickle of heat stirs in my chest like a little monster coming out of hibernation, and I realise just how much I’ve missed the comfort of knowing there’s something inside me that can protect me. That I’m not completely defenceless.

“I need you to focus,” the King says before his palms slide under mine. They’re rough, not like my dad’s at all. “Close your eyes and think on something that makes you angry. Picture all that anger as a box in your heart. Lock it, seal it. Then, when I say so, open it.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. It isn’t difficult to find things that piss me off. First of all, Aiden calling me a name that isn’t mine and never would be, then Raph leaving me for dead. My family lost to the fire I started. Kaed ripping me apart, Theron. Vale. Maurice. Martha, Cinder mother fucking Cliffs. I shove all the pain, anger, and confusion into a box and slam it shut. A breath of wind runs through the room.

“Good,” he says softly, “Stay focused. Now feel the energy from that box. Open it slowly. Let it move through your body. Into your lungs, your torso, your feet, and then your hands.”

My breathing is uneven as the heat swells within me. I open one eye quickly, then snap it shut. Fuck me, I’m actually doing it. It’s the same familiar tingle, but it’s bigger, and it answers to me. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck despite the chilly room. I let it course through my entire body, and I’m more alive than I’ve ever been. This pure, raw power is so comforting, so freeing. The wind grows stronger around us.

“Ashley—”

But I’m already looking. Colossal black flames blaze across the ceiling, setting the golden altar alight and I can feel the blood draining from my face. My heart thumps erratically in my chest and the King’s wide eyes meet mine, as heat waves pulse like a mirage around the room. The mosaics are definitely moving this time; the tiles flip across the walls as little characters scramble from one piece of art to the other, trying to run from the flames. His hands shake slightly beneath mine, but he doesn’t pull away. Panic rises in my chest, and I stumble back, breaking contact. The flames continue to grow, licking at the walls and swirling through the air.

“Do not be afraid,” he shouts over the roaring heatwaves, “Just reel them back in.”

“How?” I gasp.

“In the same way you would call a friend back to you.”

I scream at them in my head. Come back, come back! I can’t watch him burn again. I beg, I plead, until the last of the flames curl in on themselves and fade to nothing.

“Interesting.” He says, looking around the room that is now engulfed in pitch-black mosaics. White writing is tiled around the room.

I saw four from the pure bloodlines bonded with two from the chosen one.

And when they were bonded and fused, we were released,

The Basin was broken by the blood, the sacrifice, the life and strength of the black flame.

The Chasm opened; the protectors of the earth took back what is theirs.

Yes, the heir of the holy black fire will rise, and she will return us to where we belong.

“The Creed.” He whispers.

I don’t know how long we stand there in silence. Reading and re-reading the words until I can recite them backwards. After all the ducking and diving, the tripping over my own feet just to avoid reading The Creed etched into the doors of a trophy cabinet next to my room. It found me. Perhaps this is fate’s way of telling me to get a move on. And as much as I hate to say it, my uncle is right. He’s fucking right. How long will I play the victim? How long will I run, hide? If there is a way I can survive this, then why wouldn’t I at least attempt to make the most out of whatever life looks like? Their freedom means mine. It doesn’t just mean going home; it means making a home. Living a life of control. Just like I controlled those flames. And though the thought of them still brings a sharp pain to my chest. I did it. Maybe bravery is just feeling sick and doing it anyway. I imagine myself in my clean flat. Finally holding down a job. No rum, no escaping. Not being seen as dangerous, angry, or aggressive. The fae of Sheyole scattered around the earth, living their lives, free. Eventually, I break the silence. “What do I have to do?”

Chapter 38

Ashley

but how can I now close these eyes,

if they won’t find hers again.

“It’s fine the way it is, honestly. I’ve lived in much worse.” Thea and Fawn either don’t hear me or deliberately ignore me, too consumed by their spirited planning. Fabric samples, rugs, and armfuls of cushions are scattered across the bungalow like the aftermath of a royal department store explosion. “The maroon brings out the gold detailing better,” Thea insists.

“No, the teal softens the room,” Fawn argues back before nearly shushing me. She catches herself halfway through and winces apologetically.

“Leave them to decorate,” Nyk chuckles, nudging me with his elbow. “They’re enjoying themselves. Plus, this is no way for our blessed Princess to live.” He winks at me before wandering off to inspect the rest of my new home in the barracks. The bungalow is modest. A kitchenette along one wall, a narrow iron bed, and a wooden wardrobe. I don’t need anything else. But these two lunatics with tape measures and notebooks have other ideas. Big ideas. I’ve heard the words ‘canopy’ and ‘drapes’ about twelve times in the last two minutes. I shake my head and let out a breathy laugh just as a shiver runs down my spine. The front door swings open, and every ounce of oxygen leaves the room. Those spellbinding, hazel eyes find mine immediately. His broad chest rises sharply as if he’s steadying himself before asking, “Is it okay if I come in?”

“Sure,” I fold my arms across my chest as though I can barricade myself from whatever his presence is doing to me. Relief flickers across his face and his shoulders loosen slightly. He wipes his boots against the welcome mat before stepping inside cautiously, like he’s entering some sacred ground. “Your uncle informed me you are being moved here for training following the conversation you had yesterday. We are to begin this afternoon.” His gaze drifts toward Thea and Fawn, currently bickering in the corner over which shade of green tiling best matches my eyes.

“What are they doing?”