Ignite the Fire: Inferno by Karen Chance

Author:Karen Chance [Chance, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2022-01-14T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I awoke to the sight of a huge woman bending over me. Not that she was fat; muscle bulged out everywhere, from the sides of her thick neck to the bodybuilder-and-then-some sized forearms. No, she was just big, with a face so wide that it was all I could see until she pulled back a bit.

And thrust something out at me.

I scrambled back until I hit my head on what would have been a headboard if I was in a bed rather than on a pallet on the floor. Fortunately, the wall behind me was soft, like straw; unfortunately, it dislodged a shivering of dust that sifted down onto my head as me and the ridiculously large woman regarded each other. And then she thrust something at me again.

“Sop,” she said.

It was a deep, gravelly voice, which would have freaked me out even more if I hadn’t just noticed: she had little braids in her hair. They were woven with bits of colored string and ribbon and a few wilted flowers, like a girl made up for a spring festival. And her fingers were stained with different colors, not just the nails, but up to the knuckles, in a rainbow of earthen shades: burnt umber, dusty yellow, lavender, red ochre, and indigo. They were strangely festive, too, which was why it took me a moment to notice what she was holding out.

“Sop,” she said again.

I stared from her to the bowl she clasped. It was earthenware, as big as a sink, and had a ladle’s handle sticking out of it. And smelled smokey and rich and—

“Soup?” I asked, perking up, and tried to peer inside.

But I was in a half recline and she was something like eight feet tall, so that didn’t work. I sat up and tried again. And, sure enough, it looked like soup, some kind of vegetable variety that smelled . . . kind of great, actually.

“Sup?” she asked, the great face turning inquisitive.

Her eyes were tiny, and appeared to be a little myopic, but they were a pretty pansy color. I met them, and suddenly, the hulking figure didn’t seem so intimidating anymore. I nodded.

“Soup.”

“Sup.”

“Sooouuuup.”

“Sooo-up?”

I nodded again and pronounced it a few more times. That seemed to be the right move, because her face broke out into a huge smile showing bright white teeth, with not one chipped or missing. She was young, I realized. Possibly younger than me.

I smiled at her. “Soup.”

“Soup! Soup!” she was obviously delighted. “Soup! Soup!”

Somebody called her, and she glanced over her shoulder, then got up and lumbered out, happily muttering her new word. I tried the soup and made a face. It looked and smelled heavenly, but it tasted like nothing. Just nothing at all.

I frowned and started to get up, and found myself so dizzy that I stumbled. And when I put out a hand to catch myself, for a second, I thought I felt carpet under my fingers instead of rough old boards. It was disorienting, like

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