Page 112 of Feralheart

The orb floated at shoulder height. The sprite had curled up on the floor inside.

Dead things didn’t need cages.

I cupped the sphere and lifted it up. The delicate bars had been woven through with spellwork that kept the light steady even as the creature burned itself out. Beautiful craftsmanship. An elegant design.

A perfect prison.

I carried it to the window. The latch opened easily and cool air hit my face, carrying the scent of pine.

I held the orb up to the moonlight. The sprite’s wings were translucent, shot through with veins that had gone dark. Its eyes were closed. It might already be dead.

Like Aristus. Like every broken thing in this cursed kingdom. Like whoever the commons woman raced for.

Eradin. Her name was Eradin.

She’d walked through fire for a dragon that wasn’t hers. She’d finished two trials for the chance to enter the Scorching when the elite only had to sign up to gain entry.

She tried even when the odds said it was hopeless.

I slammed the orb on the window ledge, splitting the outer shell.

The sprite tumbled into my palm. Its right wing twitched. I set it on the window ledge and stepped back.

Both wings unfurled, catching moonlight. The sprite lifted into the air. It hovered, level with my face, its eyes dark, luminous, and alive.

With a blink, it shot into the night.

I watched until it disappeared.

I’d been told all my life that the cages were necessary. Creatures needed to be controlled or they’d destroy everything. The system worked because it kept chaos at bay. But I’d just watched something caged its entire life choose the dark unknown over the beautiful prison.

And I understood, for the first time, why Eradin looked at me with pity under her anger. She could see the bars around me, the ones I’d been wearing so long I’d stopped noticing the weight.

She pitied me for not trying to break free.

I walked back to my bed and lay down on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling.

Tomorrow at dawn, I’d compete in the Scorching the way I’d been trained.

Unless I didn’t.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

ERADIN

Dawn broke cold and gray over the fortress on the day I’d die.

Before leaving our room this morning, I’d gone through my pack one more time.

I’d touched the tin of salve, the one Fenian had given me. Not the first tin, but the second one. He’d been carrying it around the fortress. Waiting to give it to me.

My chest locked, my ribs refusing to expand.

He’d packed supplies for me like keeping me alive was something that required planning and thought and a second tin of expensive salve he’d carried around just in case.

Accepting help from him was dangerous, but I’d kept it.

Which meant I was keeping whatever this was between us, even if I didn’t have a name for it yet.