Flamefall (The Aurelian Cycle, #2)

by Rosaria Munda

I’ve spilled over, Aela riding my emotions as she growls behind me; Power’s face is suddenly glowing in the light of the fire she bellows upward. His eyes flick behind me, to her fire, then back at my face. There is something shining in his eyes as he looks at me now, like he’s taking me in, a look I remember from the days—they seem long ago now—when we trained together. As if he finds my fury beautiful.

I’ve begun to spend so much time not feeling like myself that I notice when I do.

I learned years ago the ways to keep my nightmares from waking others. Bury the sounds you can’t stop yourself making in your pillow till the lack of air makes you dizzy and your tears cool. The old trick feels like a forgotten friend. Grief feels like a forgotten friend. A friend that visits me and smothers me at night.

Some things you don’t have to see the proof of. Some things you just know.

I used to wonder what was wrong with me for caring. Whether it’s me who is perverse, or my family, remains a matter of opinion.