A Fire Endless by Rebecca Ross

Author:Rebecca Ross
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2022-12-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

Torin haunted Sidra.

When she stood on the training green, watching the guard conduct their sparring exercises, he stood beside her. When she walked the castle corridors, he followed her. When she visited her patients, he was with her, attentively noticing how she cleansed wounds and burns. Which herbs and plants she gathered and crushed with her pestle and mortar, and what she mixed to create healing tonics and salves. When she laid Maisie down to sleep at night and told her wondrous stories of the spirits, Torin listened.

He longed, more than anything, for her to see him. To speak with her. To be able to reach out his hand and touch her skin.

He was there when she was sick, vomiting into the chamber pot behind closed doors. When her hand touched her belly, where their child was a spark in the darkness. He noticed that she could hardly stomach her food, that she ate very little. And he saw that, despite her exhaustion and the endless worries she carried, she worked harder than ever to find a cure for the blight.

More of the clan had fallen ill. Torin knew he should be striving to solve the riddle from within, but he was at a loss. All he could think of was to learn from Sidra just by observing her, figuring she most likely held the answers in her hands. But time was passing. Even as it seemed to hold steady in the spirits’ realm of perpetual dusk, Torin sensed the days slipping away in the mortal world.

Ice and fire, brought together as one. Sisters divided, united once more. Washed with salt and laden with blood—all united will satisfy the debt you owe.

He didn’t know where to even begin when it came to cracking the riddle.

One night he stood attentively as Sidra tucked Maisie into the bed they shared.

“Tell me a story,” Maisie requested, burrowing deeper into the blankets.

Sidra perched on the edge of the mattress. “What story would you like to hear tonight?”

“The story about the sisters.”

“What sisters, Maisie?”

“Remember in the book? The one Grandda gave me? The sisters of the flowers.”

Torin’s interest was suddenly hooked. The riddle echoed through him as he stepped closer, into the firelight.

“You mean about Orenna and Whin?” said Sidra.

Maisie nodded.

“I don’t know that one as well,” Sidra said, “but I’ll do my best to remember it.” As she began telling the story, Torin soaked in her words. She spoke of Orenna, who had once dared to grow her blood-red flowers in unusual places, angering the other spirits with her eavesdropping. Lady Whin of the Wildflowers had no choice but to urge her sister to grow only where she was invited. Orenna, of course, had bristled at the correction and ignored it, continuing to grow her blossoms where she willed, collecting the secrets of fire, water, and wind. Eventually, the Earie Stone punished her by banishing her to heartsick soil, the only place she was allowed to grow. Orenna would have to prick her

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