Fire & Chasm by Campbell Chelsea

Author:Campbell, Chelsea [Campbell, Chelsea]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fables, Legends, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, General, Myths
ISBN: 9781477827987
Publisher: Skyscape
Published: 2015-05-01T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I’m almost back to my room when Rathe steps out of the shadows.

I’m supposed to be the one lurking in the darkness, waiting for just

the right moment. But I was distracted.

Rathe’s face looks pale and sallow in the torchlight. There are

dark circles under his eyes, as if he hasn’t slept in days. I tell myself it must be a trick of the light.

He’s not alone. Bran and Letton step into the hal . Letton’s

got a slightly bent nose, like he’s been in a few fights before. He’s

also taller, and his hair’s a darker shade of brown than Bran’s. I’ve

seen them practical y every day for the past three years, and I’ve

never had a reason to think of them as threats. But now there’s a

menacing vibe in the air, and I can’t help noticing they’ve got me

surrounded.

My hand slips down to my hip, searching for the knife that

isn’t there. Because I left it in my room. Like an idiot. And all so

Leora wouldn’t think of me as a weapon. But it didn’t help, and I’ve

got something much worse inside my head, anyway.

CHELSEA M. CAMPBELL

“I saw you today,” Rathe says. He stares at his hand, rubbing

his thumb and forefinger together, like they’re dirty. “When you

slit open my palm.”

I glance at him, then the others, at the grim expressions on

their faces. Edging in so close to me. My fingers twitch, even

though I know there’s no knife. “I . . . had to.” I did. I swear I did.

“It was part of the process.”

“Was this part of the process?” Rathe holds out his hand,

showing me a wide pink scar. It runs across his palm and over

the stretch of flesh between his thumb and his forefinger. Then he

turns his hand over. I don’t believe it at first. I was there, and I don’t remember the knife going that far in. But there’s a scar on the back

of his hand. Where my obsidian stabbed right through him.

“Chasm take me,” Bran whispers, staring wide-eyed at Rathe’s

hand. “Tell me you didn’t do that, Azeril.”

“I screwed up. I lost control.” I want to close my eyes and pre-

tend this isn’t happening, but I don’t dare look away from them. “It

was an accident.”

Letton glares at me. “What did you have to do to become

the High Priest’s apprentice? Everybody wanted the job. To go to

Newhaven with him and be somebody. There were plenty of us

more qualified. You did something to make him pick you.”

“I saw your face when you cut me,” Rathe says. “I saw how much

you wanted to hurt me.” He flinches at the memory. “Everything hurt, like my blood was on fire. The High Priest healed my flesh, but

I’ll never forget how it felt when you stabbed your knife through

my hand. You had this awful smile on your face, and the more it

hurt, the more you liked it.”

160

FIRE & CHASM

My stomach twists into knots. I want to deny it, but I can’t. I

think about what Leora said. The Chasm loves chaos and violence.

Darkness and pain. Maybe spel s weren’t the only things I got from

it.

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