All That Burns by Ryan Graudin Read Free Book Online Page B

over her face. “You found it. But blind eyes still need to see.”
    I look away from her, down to the ground. The ravens are gone.
    “Puppets. With smiles on their faces. That’s how they died.” Guinevere cackles and releases my arm. I stumble back. Over the ledge, and into the valley. Onto the coal-hot stones of Camelot.

Five
    I ’m still reaching for something to hold on to, something to save me from the fall seconds after I jerk awake. My eyes are open, but I still see Guinevere’s crazed face. Her laughter rings through my ears.
    I’m breathing hard, staring at the golden moldings of the ceiling. I’ve been asleep for hours.
    Richard’s laptop and notes are gone, as well as the newspaper. An antique candelabra sits in their place. Its three flames sputter, offering a small globe of light into the vast room.
    It seems Lights-down has already started.
    I groan and wipe some hair out of my face. My fingers come back slick with sweat. Traces of the dream still rage under my skin. It felt so real. As if I were there again, watching the Pendragon’s kingdom go down in flames. A fire so hot and strong it made my arm hairs singe. I can still feel the burn. . . .
    “You had a nightmare?”
    My heart is already racing, but the suddenness of Richard’s voice causes it to explode. He’s in a chair just beyond the candles’ glow, watching me.
    “I—” I stop. Swallow. A nightmare. That’s all it was. Just my brain taking fragments of my day. Trying to make sense of the past twenty-four hours.
    But terror still clings to the edges of my throat. I look at the trio of flames and all I see is the castle. Twisting arms of fire, eating away an entire kingdom. I lean forward, snuff all three with a single breath. The room swirls into smoky darkness.
    I scrape meager magic from my veins, weave it into a whisper: “ Inlíhte.”
    The room flickers in my weak, watery light. I don’t even have the strength to loop it. The glow is already growing dimmer, shedding brightness every second.
    “You didn’t have to do that,” Richard’s voice is hoarse, as if he’s been crying. His face looks so sad in my hungry, fading light. “I thought I lost you, Embers. When you jumped and you didn’t come up . . . It was awful. A thousand hells.”
    I think of the newspaper, with Richard’s relentless stare begging me not to jump. I think of the way I torefrom his grasp, hurtling myself into those dark and vicious waters.
    I should have listened. I should have waited for Helene and the other Frithemaeg to show up. I should have stood by Richard’s side. But I know I couldn’t. If there was another Kelpie, raging and frothing under my feet, I would jump again.
    For some reason I thought it would be easy—passing on the baton—letting others handle the fight for me. But the jumping, the fighting—it’s in my blood. It’s everything I’ve ever known. Thousands of years can’t be let go in a single second. Lifetimes can’t be undone so simply.
    I don’t know how to tell him this.
    “I’m all right, Richard.” My words are timid, hollowed out like bones. “I’m right here.”
    “Yes. But—you’re not what you were before. And I think that sometimes you forget that.” I know he doesn’t mean to be cruel. Just the opposite—the love rises up behind his eyes. But his words go deep, remind me of everything I was: Power. Fight. Flight. A maelstrom.
    Everything I’m not.
    He’s wrong. I never forget. Every single time I seeRichard, kiss him, I feel it all: the gain and the loss.
    “I love you, Emrys,” he goes on. “I can’t lose you. Not after everything. Promise me you’ll stay safe. Promise me you won’t use your magic like that again.”
    I can’t breathe. It’s just like being underwater again. Except there’s no Kelpie. No Thames. Just words jamming my head.
    I should promise him this.
    But I can’t.
    Richard looks at me in that piercing, all-encompassing way of his. Those hazel irises smolder. And I