Author: Jodi Meadows

“Oh, I do.” I brushed my thumb over his cheekbone. “But I want it to be real. Not because you’re a reasonably intelligent person who can recognize a short redhead when she’s hiding her face. Besides, I know you don’t believe in the matching souls stuff.”

“You make me want to believe.” He grew quiet.

Even if we lived through tomorrow night, I’d always look like me, even if I put on another costume. Besides, people didn’t dedicate their souls to each other after only one life. A dedication of souls was supposed to be forever.

“I’ve decided,” I whispered into the dimness. The sonata’s final notes faded and another piece began, all warm lute strings and a clarinet.

“What’s that?” His voice was heat, and his breath traced over the curves of my cheek. I never wanted to move.

“Everyone is terrified of the unknown. What happens after? Where do you go? What do you do?”

He gave a slight nod.

“I’ve decided what I think happens. Everyone is so busy being afraid, no one considers that what happens next might be good, too. Different. But not bad. Not something to be afraid of.”

Sam kissed my cheek. “That sounds very wise.”

“I don’t want to be afraid of something that’s inevitable. I don’t want to go rushing toward it, because there are so many things I want to experience in life, but being terrified of something natural like that seems like a waste of energy.”

“The pain that often accompanies death isn’t very pleasant.” He kept his voice low, thoughtful. “And pain often is a good reason to fear something. Fear is natural, too. It’s what keeps us alive, sometimes.”

I nodded. “I don’t mean about not being afraid of everything that goes along with death. I’m still for avoiding it. I want to live. But as a whole thing. What happens next. What really happens next—rather than reincarnation bought with another’s soul—doesn’t have to be scary. I choose to believe it’s another good thing. Like life. Another beginning. Only different.”

“You have a beautiful way of thinking,” he murmured, voice as sweet as the duet playing on the SED. He caressed my face, my throat, my shoulders, my arms. Everything melted under his touch, and the soft way he kissed me.

When I climbed onto his lap, our chests pressed together, his kisses grew deeper and more passionate. His palms were hard against my spine, pulling me closer as he kissed my neck and shoulders and collarbone. He tugged my shirt askew and caressed the bare skin of my shoulder.

“I love you.” His words pooled in the hollow of my throat. “I want to tell you a thousand times how much I love you.”

I ran my fingers through his hair and turned his face up, leaned his head back, and kissed him. Soft black strands fell between my fingers, and his hands were up my shirt, palms flat on my back. My ribs. My waist.

My skin burned with our heat. I was melting into him.

Footsteps thundered through the mill, and light spilled across the storage room.

“Ana! Sam!” Sarit’s voice was high and wild. Then she squeaked. “Oh. Oh no, I’m so sorry. I forgot. I can go away.”

I scrambled off of Sam’s lap, smoothing my clothes as my face ached with a blush. Sam pulled his knees to his chest and shifted uncomfortably.

“Oh, you guys.” Sarit covered her face. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I—Yeah. I’m going away.”

“It’s fine,” Sam said, his tone clear that this was not fine. His clothes were crooked and his skin flushed. “Just tell us what’s going on.”

Sarit bit her lip, glancing between us.

“There are so many things I could say right now.” Stef appeared behind Sarit, wearing an expression of awkward amusement. “I hope you both understand what a great effort it is for me to withhold comments.”

“And we appreciate it.” Sam’s voice was tight.

My heart thudded—not in the fun way—and every bit of me burned with embarrassment. So much for having the whole night alone. “Maybe you should just tell us whatever you burst in here to say.”

Sarit and Stef sobered as they exchanged glances. “We found out what’s in the cage,” Sarit said.

Sam looked up. I didn’t move.

“It’s a phoenix.”

27

FLAMES

THE SPRING EQUINOX dawned cloudless and bright, with the whole world holding its breath. Even the constant rumble of earthquakes paused, leaving everything strangely silent and muted for the hours Sam and I moved throughout the mill, discussing our plans again, touching the supplies we’d carry tonight.

Using scraps she’d found in the nearby mills and factories, Stef had constructed gloves and boot covers that would help us scale the Councilhouse. She’d wanted to attempt making copies of the key, in case one of us was held back, but Sam wouldn’t let her take it apart in case it wouldn’t work again. Anyway, it seemed to me the key was imbued with magic, and despite all of Stef’s talents, she’d never be able to replicate that.

Sylph trickled through the mill halls, moaning and singing anxiously.

-They don’t like waiting for Soul Night,- Cris said. -They’d rather attack now.-

“There’s nothing we can do now.” I spoke quietly to keep from waking Stef and Sarit; they’d stayed up longer than Sam and I had, going out a couple more times to check that the mill was secure, and to set remote-activated diversions. “If we release the poison now”—which we didn’t even have—“Janan would overcome it long before Soul Night started and we’d have wasted everything.”

-They don’t like trusting the dragons to bring the poison.-

It was a little late for us to worry about that. “We just have to trust that the dragons want Sam and his phoenix song destroyed. They’ll help.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Sam muttered.

-What if the dragons spot the phoenix and think we’ve betrayed them?-

I shook my head. “It’s still covered. Deborl is supposed to unveil it only when Janan allows, right? So the dragons won’t see it unless it wakes up and breaks free of its bonds.”

What did Janan even want the phoenix for, though?

-What if-

“Stop.” I held up my hands. “We’re not going to do this. We’re not going to second-guess everything at the last minute. We’re not going to wish ‘if only we had more time’ or ‘if only we had a better plan.’ This is what we have. We need to make the most of it.”

Cris started to drift away.

The last thing I wanted to do today was fight with my friends. I made my voice softer. “I know they’re all worried. They’re all counting on me to stop Janan so they can stop being sylph.”

-I am, too.-

“I know.” Again, I remembered Cris lying on the altar, the flash of silver as he raised the knife, the gold of the phoenix blood still marking the blade after five thousand years. It was my fault he was trapped like this. He’d chosen what he thought would be death. But this—as a sylph—no. For saving my life, he bore the same punishment as those who’d tortured a phoenix in their quest for immortality.

As much as I wanted to help them, free them from this existence, the idea of so many depending on me was staggering. I was only beginning to learn how to do things for myself. I’d done everything I could for newsouls, which hadn’t turned out like I’d hoped, and now sylph needed me, too.

Another hour passed talking with Sam and Cris, trying to comfort one another, and encourage. But the sylph were right: waiting was the worst.

We were sitting in the weaving room when Sam looked up and scowled. “Did you hear—”

The door flew open. Daylight flooded the room, and all the sylph swarmed toward the door, heat billowing off them.

Sylph songs turned to screeches a heartbeat later. Brass objects skittered into the room. Sylph eggs. Lids open. My sylph poured into the eggs like smoke through a flue.

Crashing sounded from the storage room, then footsteps.

Sam and I scrambled for our pistols as a dozen people in bright red burst into the room. Half of them dove toward the sylph eggs, flipping the lids shut before the sylph could escape. From the others, blue targeting lights shone across the room and turned on Sam and me.

A sylph peeled away from the shadows, burning through wool and skin and tissue. The stink of cooking flesh filled the room as another guard withdrew a sylph egg, twisted it, and flipped open the lid. Cris darted toward the hall where Stef and Sarit were coming, their weapons ready.

Everything was chaos. I fired my pistol, not thinking about a person there, only that they’d come to kill us. Trap the sylph. Take the key.

People screamed as lasers threaded the room. Wood burned and cracked. Machinery came crashing to the floor, and the reek of smoke permeated the room.

Sam dragged me behind one of the burning looms, then pushed me down so we were both crouching. “First chance you get, grab your bag and get out of here. Don’t wait for anyone.”

“But—”

“No. You have the key. You know the plan. It must succeed, no matter what.”

I clenched my jaw and peered through the flames, which licked across the old, polished wood of the fallen looms. The smoke caught in my throat, making me cough.

Stef and Sarit shot more guards, using a door in the hallway as a cover. Cris burned through people, struggling to open the eggs scattered across the floor, but he was incorporeal. He couldn’t touch anything.

“We need to get the eggs open,” I hissed.

Sam stood and shot the last guard before she could trap Cris.

The fire grew quickly, so we waited only a moment before the four of us crept from our hiding places and reached for the nearest eggs to free the sylph. Just as my hands closed around one of the brass devices, more guards poured into the room, targeting lights shining everywhere.

I flipped open the lid of my egg and let it go. Hot pain flared across my right arm as I grabbed for my pistol, but I ignored the sharp bloom of heat. My pistol was ready. I aimed at the door and shot. Someone dropped, clutching their burned leg. Around me, Sam, Stef, and Sarit were shooting too, though they had better aim.

A couple of sylph fluttered from their eggs, disoriented from being trapped for even a few minutes. But Cris rallied them and they dove in front of us, acting as shields, absorbing the laser blasts, as they had the acid from the dragons.

Smoke thickened in the room, searing my lungs. The fire licked the ceiling now, roaring as it grew. There was nowhere to hide.

With a sylph guarding me, I pushed forward and reached for another egg, but blue light—immediately followed by pain—shot across my fingers. I jumped back.

“Ana!” Sarit’s voice pierced the cacophony of fire and screams and sylph song. Red marked her bare arms, and her face was flushed with heat and pain. She shook back the black tendrils of her hair as she hefted her pistol and shot another guard. “Get your bag and go.”

Not without everyone else. I searched for Sam in the smoke-choked weaving room, but I couldn’t find him or Stef. “Sam!” Smoke burned my lungs and made my voice crack. “Stef!”

One of the guards near me dropped, pistol burns crisscrossing his face. My sylph shield stretched as I bent to open another egg, but the heat of sylph and fire and pain made my head swim. I fumbled for the lid. My fingers caught with one another, feeling disconnected as the metal bit into them. My thoughts felt thin and faraway as I staggered toward the door and my bag there.

But I couldn’t leave without my friends.

“Stef!” I couldn’t see her. “Sam!” The smoke was too thick, and the fire too bright as it ate through the old wood of the mill, consuming walls and support beams and crates of woven fabric. My vision swam, fogging at the edges. When I searched for Sarit, she was gone, too.