Page 6 of Into Ember

“That’s not—” She catches up. The light comes with her. “Fine. I have a list.”

Of course she does.

So do I.

And under my ribs, the dragon settles in content.

He likes it when she argues.

That is going to be a problem.

Chapter 3

Elara

I have been walking for hours and I am done.

My body hasn’t figured it out yet.

Neither have they.

I want to be very clear about the hours part, because at first I thought it had been hours and it had been forty minutes, which was devastating, but now it has actually, legitimately been hours.

Plural.

Through a forest.

At night.

In flip-flops.

I dressed for my living room. That’s the part nobody is acknowledging. When I got up this morning, the plan was coffee, deadline, possibly a nap, and the fantasy men scattered around my apartment. At no point did the itinerary include a portal, and it definitely did not include crossing an enchanted forest with those five fantasy men. Especially not in foam sandals from the drugstore. Especially not while I contemplate how I ended up here.

In the fantasy.

There is nothing fantastic about it.

Every step I take makes that sound. Thwack. Thwack. The forest is silent and ancient and full of stars, and I am the thwack.

Romantic.

My feet hurt. My knees hurt because my feet hurt and I’m compensating. My hair is doing many things I can feel but refuse to confirm with my hands. I haven’t eaten since the toast I didn’t finish this morning, back when my biggest problem was a cat.

I would like my couch. That’s all. I’m not asking for answers anymore. My standards have collapsed. I would just like my couch, and Gerald, and for the sky to go back where it belongs.

“Where are we?” I ask Leif, for what is not the first time.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? No isn’t even an option for that question.”

“I mean I can’t answer that yet.”

“So you can answer it?”

“…Yes.”

I stare at him. He keeps walking. Big, unbothered, wearing Brock’s jacket like it’s a fashion choice and not a hostage situation.