Chapter 4

• Ava jerked upright and sucked in a breath. She looked around. She was beside the river. It was just a stupid dream. She exhaled and tried to relax again. The fire was dying down. Shaking her head, she picked up the stick and poked the embers. Leaning closer, she picked up a piece of wood and set it on the glowing coals. Her head hurt again, but then it always did when she was here.
• Ava watched the flames. She wouldn’t win any survival badges, but she was more than happy with the results of her efforts. The flames were mesmerizing, jumping and blending. Was it more than one or just one with many branches? She wasn’t sure. What she was sure of was that she was losing her mind. Sitting here thinking about flames? What was wrong with her brain?
• She looked around and then leaned back against the tree. “First light, and I am out of here.” She scoffed. “It’s so stupid that I come here and find nothing every year.” She looked around, even though outside of the fire, she couldn’t see a thing. In moments like this, she relied on her instincts to let her know if there was something she may have to worry about. Instincts, if that’s what it even was. It felt like a curse most of the time. All of it. Could your DNA be a curse? She couldn’t be sure.
• As far as her past went, she only had a few flashes of what she thought were memories. Before Capri found her, she didn’t remember much. She glared at the flames. Even when she focused hard, Ava couldn’t see her face anymore. Wasn’t that something that should be imprinted into your memory? Someone you were with every day for twenty years? The name Kami seemed familiar, so she had to assume that was her name. Kami wasn’t her mother, but she had looked after her and kept her alive. She should at least remember her face, you would think. If she tried too hard, her head felt like it was going to split open, so it wasn’t something she let drift through her thoughts often.
• Squeezing her eyes shut, she concentrated on her breathing for a moment. Getting emotional wasn’t something she could afford to do. Ever. Except for anger, she could do that without tragedy. Tucking her hands into her pockets, she balled them into fists. Anger wasn’t something she had to work at showing. It was her one constant. In her opinion, she had the right to be. A few childhood memories of climbing trees, swimming in the river, and then nothing but a big blank aching hole was what she had.
• Wings. Yeah, she had those too. See-through wings that, as far as she could tell, did nothing but ruin her shirts when they appeared. One time, they hadn’t been the clear, useless feathery things and had scared the hell out of her, and every second of each day since then, she spent trying to prevent that from happening ever again. It had been the day Capri found her. Alone, half-starved, and disoriented. She’d just tried to climb a building to get inside out of the rain and cold and had fallen. Something in her broke in that moment, and she sat there on the wet pavement crying, and they’d appeared – and destroyed the wall of the building she’d fallen from.
• To this day, Ava had no idea how she’d done that or why it had happened. Capri persuaded her to come home with her and, for weeks after that, had tried to figure out what exactly she was. The obvious, according to Capri, was that one of her parents had been an angel, which, to this day, Ava thought was ridiculous, but Capri didn’t think it was impossible.
• Ava looked up at the sky and stared at a star she could see between the branches and leaves. “Do you just lurk around up there and watch?” She snorted. “Thanks for nothing.” Grabbing her backpack, she pulled it closer and leaned down, using it as a pillow. This was the last time she was coming here. She didn’t care if she had to chain herself to the shop workbench to prevent herself from trying to come here again. She was done.
• ~
• He took a step closer, keeping his eyes on her the entire time. He’d been standing in the darkness watching her for hours now, and she was finally asleep. When he was close enough that he could see her chest rise and fall in slumber, he squatted down and held his hand out toward the fire. With magic as basic as it got, he made the flames grow so the heat would reach her.
• Why was she here again? He’d asked himself that each time she showed up. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t even remember this place. Had he missed something when he’d locked up all those memories so many years ago? He knew the memories hadn’t been freed, or her welcome of his presence earlier would have gone a very different way. Why was she here?
• What am I going to do with you, my angry little one? He sat down and continued to stare at her. The only good thing about her coming here each year was he could openly sit and look at her without having to cloak his body so she couldn’t see him. He hadn’t meant for her to see him earlier, but she’d somehow sensed he was there, and he didn’t want to make her doubt herself by leaving.
• He grinned. The way she spoke to him had amused him more than he thought it would. For years, he’d watched her cut others apart with her words, and each time, it had entertained him. As to the why, he had no inkling whatsoever why it made him smile when she did.
• Closing his eyes, Firo dropped his head forward. It didn’t take much effort to recall that night so long ago. It was forever burned into his memories. It was his responsibility to watch over Queen Aurora’s eldest daughter, Avaline. He prided himself on having such a high position in the court, but his charge was not the easiest to keep track of. Her magic had been strong, and more than once, she had dupped him with it and slipped from the realm.