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"Are you cold?" he asked, concerned.
I shook my head, losing myself in his steely gaze.
"I think it's all because of you," I managed to say before he smiled and captured my mouth in another brain-smashing kiss. I let go completely, as his thumbs moved higher still, setting my soul on fire.
A knock on the door crashed into us like thunder. It startled me, and I took a step back, remembering where I was and what I was supposed to be doing.
Books. I'm looking for books.
We stared at each other. He was gorgeous, his hair disheveled and his lips almost begging for my return. I felt flushed and unable to focus.
The second knock tore a sigh out of his chest as he turned his head toward it.
"What is it?" he called out, irritation dripping from his voice.
I couldn't help but grin.
Phoenix
The Daughter and I had been searching through the top floor of the west wing for several hours. We started from the banquet hall, where several cabinets and drawers seemed like reasonable hiding places for the swamp witches' third book.
She wore a white linen dress that accentuated her alabaster skin, reddish pink hair, and cherry lips. The way she crinkled her nose every time she had to blow dust off a surface was endearing, tearing a smile from me without exception.
I made myself busy with one of the cabinets while she rummaged through the cutlery drawers. I'd spent the last hour trying to explain what grief felt like, getting nothing but confused frowns from her. No matter how prosaic I got with my descriptions, it didn't seem to faze her much.
"Phoenix, I had a dream last night," she changed the subject. "Or at least I think it was a dream."
"Oh? Tell me about it."
She stood up straight, hands in a drawer. I could hear the silverware clinking beneath her fingers.
"I saw my sisters."
I stilled, a wave of dread instantly crashing into me. I tried hard to keep a straight face.
"They came to see me, all seven of them. Well, I think it was them. It was dark and misty, and I could only see their shadows. Seven shadows."
I nodded and waited for her to continue. White heat sizzled in my throat. I carefully counted my breaths, struggling to not show her how terrified the prospect of her sisters made me, particularly after they'd swayed me into stabbing myself.
"Did they say anything?" I asked and heard my voice tremble.
"They whispered. They said I am the only one who can save Eritopia. But that salvation will come with a cost. They said I must be willing to sacrifice myself for this."
I nearly lost my balance as I gripped the side of the cabinet.
This can't be real.
"It was just a bad dream." I put on a reassuring smile. "A bad dream. That's all."
I wasn't fooling anyone, not even the Daughter. She walked across the hall until she stood inches away from me. I took a step back, as if fearing that if she got any closer, she could smell the fear on me. If she'd been a sentry, she would have seen the acid yellow cloud brewing a storm in my chest.
"What sacrifice did they mean, though?" the Daughter asked.
She'd become an expert in asking the most difficult questions. I wondered whether I'd made life that difficult for my parents. They must have put up with a lot like this from me when I was a kid and they told me that I was going to live much longer than most people. The first time I'd come across the concept of death, I'd had so many questions about it.
Finding myself on the receiving end this time was no walk in the park.
How do I explain death to her?
"It's death. Giving up your own life to save countless others. That's the kind of sacrifice your sisters would mean. I'm surprised they'd bother to intervene in anything related to Eritopia. The last time we asked for their help, they told us to get lost and took the Druid's eyesight." I figured blunt clarity was the best way to go. The Daughter had yet to distinguish nuances.
"What is death, really? What does it involve?" she asked.
I cringed a little, dreading the answer. I'd hated the answer my parents had given me. I had rejected it altogether, unwilling to accept that some of my friends would be gone before my first century. The grief was unbearable, even for a young sentry like me, a creature much more aware of the way the world worked. The Daughter was even more innocent.
Her brow furrowed as she looked at me. I remembered then that she was finely tuned to what I was feeling, so there was no way for me to really hide anything from her.
Let's see you talk your way out of this one, you charmer.