Page 49 of By the Flames of Her Fury

At the end of the day, it didn’t matter to me who she was. I just wanted her to be safe, which was an idiotic notion in this life we’d been forced into.

When shadows flickered in front of my cell, I nearly popped my ankle out of place lunging for the hole in the wall. I shoved my eye against it, holding my breath until I saw her familiar form. Her back hit the wall, out of my line of sight. A guard fixed the shackles over her wrists and ankles. The cell bars closed, and we were left in the silence once more, save for her ragged breaths and my racing heart.

“Songbird?” I whispered.

She groaned in answer. I searched through the tiny hole, desperate for a glimpse of her, but all I could see was stone. Her breaths turned into sobs, and the sound gutted me.

“Just breathe, sweetheart,” I said, the term of endearment coming out before I could stop it. “Breathe through it. I’m right here. Tell me where it hurts.”

“Ev—everywhere,” she choked out. “I just—I just want it to be over.”

I pressed my forehead into the wall. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Fates, I hated that word. Quieter, I asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she whispered back.

“Okay. That’s fine. Are you—are you hungry? Do you want some of my peanuts?”

Again, that same tired response. “No.”

My heart squeezed. I just wanted to do something. I felt so useless here, knowing she was in pain and there was nothing I could do to help. “What can I do, Songbird?”

Silence. Chains clicked together, then something scraped on the ground. “Can you tell me a story?”

I propped my arm on the wall above my head, envisioning her beyond the stone. Broken and afraid, folding in on herself to shield her body from the world. “What kind of story?”

“I don’t know.” She groaned again. “Just something to take my mind off this. Off of everything.”

“Okay,” I rasped. “Let me show you a world that doesn’t hurt, Songbird.”

I shifted, and the chains at my wrist clinked together, reminding me of their ever-present threat. I hadn’t tried to conjure an illusion in a couple of years, what with the anguish that came with using magic. I stared down at the ugly iron and took a deep breath. The air tasted like rot and metal and mold, but I shoved beyond it to imagine the ocean. Warm sun, grainy sand between my toes, wind on my skin. I imagined the way the water off the shores of Iluze glittered like diamonds.

And then I pushed.

Magic sparked under my skin. Pain shot up my arms so violently I bit down on a curse. My breath hitched, but I pushed harder, focusing on the vision.

Come on, come on.

The illusion unfurled like a ribbon, weaker than I remembered but still there. I pictured it slipping through the hole, carrying with it images created in my mind’s eye. Waves lapping against our ankles, wind threading through her hair, sunlight heating her cheeks.

She let out a soft gasp. “Swift, is that—are you⁠—”

The searing pain tore through me again, and I fell on all fours. I pushed my head into the stone with gritted teeth. “It’s a—a beach,” I managed to get out. “In Iluze. The one by our house. Back door led right to the sand. Mother used to—to take me out to collect shells before we went to the market.” My voice shook with the effort it took to keep the illusion alive. “The water was cold, but Mother always said—she said I was bright enough to m-make it warm for the day.”

“Fates,” Songbird whispered in awe. “It’s so beautiful.”

Without trying, an image of my mother appeared in the illusion. She looked the way I wanted to remember her, before the sickness ravaged her and Father. Those hazel eyes, warm smile, rich, brown skin and midnight hair that always tangled down her back. The dimple on her cheek when she smiled.

But with that extra burst of magic came more crippling pain. I grunted as Mother vanished. The beach wavered, the sun shimmering and contorting like waves.

“It’s hurting you,” Songbird murmured. “Stop it, please. I’m not worth it. You’ve already shown me so much.”

You’re more than worth it, I wanted to argue, but the agony vibrated through me so deep, it shook my teeth. With a sharp exhale, I dropped the illusion. We were back in the dark, dank cells, sunlight fading from memory with every passing second. The heat slowly retreated from my bones, funneling back into the cuffs like water, and I slumped into the wall.

“Was that your mother?” she asked after a moment.

“Yes.”

“She was beautiful.”