“An Elemental.” He moves to return the boiling liquid over the fire.
Oh. Right. I study the worktable and the contraptions near the steaming pots. A miniature metal wolf catches my eye. It’s almost an exact replica of the real ones I recall from the snowy mountains I grew up in. Something inside of me wants to touch it, to soak up that reminder of home.
“Do you have fighting skills?”
“Is scratching and biting and kicking considered a skill?”
The briefest smile strains the corners of his lips and then it’s gone. “The name’s Eogan. Adora give you the whole lecture on what we do?”
“Save the world and that kind of thing?” My voice stumbles into a whisper. “Yeah.”
He assesses me. “But you’re still deciding.”
I nod and go back to playing with the sleeve in my hand. “Pretty sure I’m not the save-the-world type.”
“That’s good, because I’m pretty sure the world’s not worth being saved.”
Is he jesting?
I don’t think so. His face is dead serious as he lifts two molds onto the table and begins filling them with the hot, silvery substance from the little pots.
“But I love a good challenge.” He answers my question before I can ask. “Why are you here?”
“My other option is the gallows.”
His expression turns sour. “What makes you think you’re worth avoiding the gallows?”
The way he says it feels like a smack in the face. An uninvited rush of warmth floods my cheeks and neck. “I’m not.”
“Then why are you here?”
Why am I here? Is it as selfish as avoiding death?
“Because I want to learn to control my abilities.”
He absorbs this, staring me square in the eyes. “A female Elemental is unique. That alone will make it difficult for you to learn control. But”—a challenge emerges in his gritty tone—“combine that with your attitude, and it’ll feel near impossible.”
I hate him.
I bite my lip and, ignoring him, walk over to look at the metal wolf on the worktable. With my right hand, I poke a finger toward the animal, careful to keep my crooked hand out of sight, although most likely he’s already seen it.
The contraption issues a metallic snarl and snaps at me.
I screech and jump toward the door. “What the kracken is that thing?”
The unreasonably attractive man doesn’t answer. He’s too busy filling the room with thunderous laughter.
I stomp out, eyes narrowed, cheeks flaming.
I’m halfway across the lawn before the strains of waltz music reach me from the house. They flit and dance through the air in an odd synchrony to Eogan’s ongoing hilarity. Blast them all. I bite my lip. My soul twisting, throbbing, begging me to run.
Not that I’d get far.
I look back at the cottage. At my one chance of learning to control my curse.
So he likes a good challenge, does he?
Pulling the dress skirts higher, I grit my teeth. Well, maybe I’ll give him one.
I turn and—
Booooom!!!
An explosion rocks the ground.
I hit the dirt just as there’s another, and then I’m up on my hands and knees and scrambling toward the house. I listen for another strike, but even as the ground shakes, it suddenly occurs to me that the tremors are originating far away. What in hulls?
I glance up and see orange fire and unearthly-size embers shooting off one of the Hythra Mountains hovering over us. Like someone dropped a kettle of lava on the scene. The glow lights up the forests and snow like a sunrise. I’m just thinking I should tell someone when above the blaze I catch sight of the most impossible object I’ve ever seen.
An ocean ship made of metal.
Flying in the air beneath a giant balloon, the outline unreal against the lit-up sky as it heads away from the blast.
At the edge of my vision, I note Eogan staring at it too.
Then he’s yelling at me to get inside, and everything moves so fast, my mind is a blur as Adora’s guests spill out to point and scream that the capital is under attack.
CHAPTER 7
I’M GLAD TO HEAR YOU’VE SOME CAPACITY FOR wisdom, Nymia.” Adora puts her pen down and beckons for a cup refill as the windows in the sitting room rattle behind her.
The vibration grows stronger, until I think the glass will burst.
Here it comes. I scan the sky and still-burning mountainside for another one of those Bron floating ships. The carpet beneath my feet starts rolling, then shaking. It’s the fourth time in the past fifteen minutes the earth has quaked beneath the house, and Adora hasn’t even flinched. After the first tremor, she made it clear it wasn’t from an explosion like last night but didn’t elucidate. I steady my gaze on her. If she’s not nervous, I refuse to be either.