Fire Falling by Elise Kova Read Free Book Online Page B

the air to distort the light, to create smoke screens, fogs,” Fritz started, clearly uncomfortable by the praise and attention.
    “And illusions, if the sorcerer is skilled enough.” Aldrik motioned to Fritz, directing Vhalla’s attention back to her friend.
    Fritz waved his hand in demonstration and an identical image formed next to him.
    Vhalla gasped softly, taking a step toward the apparition. It looked like Fritz in every way, and Vhalla raised a hand—no one stopped her. The illusion dissipated under her fingertips, nothing more than a puff of vapor.
    Vhalla’s eyes widened.
    She was no longer standing in that forest clearing; she was living a waking nightmare. Her twisted dreams merged with the reality before her and the horrible memories that she had pushed from her consciousness. There was wind, there was fire, there was death, and there was blood splattered across her arms and face as she watched bodies torn to shreds by howling gusts. It had been her desire. She had wanted them dead. She had wanted them more than dead, she wanted the Northerners to suffer .
    Vhalla took a step back, shaking her head. That wasn’t who she was .
    “No,” she whispered. Someone took a step toward her; all she saw were shadows from her dreams. Shadows she ripped apart by touching. “Don’t come any closer,” she gave a quivering warning. Vhalla brought up her hands to her ears, the screams of the people whom she had murdered filling her consciousness. She realized in horrible clarity what had been haunting her, the blood on her hands that she’d been ignoring.
    She felt dizzy. Her legs buckled beneath her, and her body doubled over.
    “Vhalla, what’s wrong?” Fritz asked, his voice faint.
    “Go,” she panted. They shouldn’t be near her. At the edge of her guilt-shattered conscious she could hear a wind roaring. Vhalla gripped her head tighter. She had meant to kill those Northerners on the Night of Fire and Wind, but she had not known what killing meant.
    Two strong hands gripped her wrists and she lashed out, shaking her head and twisting her body. Vhalla attempted to knock the person away with a strong gust, but they didn’t even seem to feel it.
    “Vhalla.” Aldrik’s voice was strong and level, cutting through the din of the chaos in her head. “Stop. Breathe,” he instructed, and she forced herself to oblige. His voice rang over the storm raging within her. “Open your eyes.”
    Vhalla squinted open one eye, and then the next. Even though it was almost night, the world had a hazy glow to it. Aldrik was surrounded in the golden, almost white, flame that she’d seen him in before. He burned brighter than any of the others assembled. She struggled to shift her vision back to normal, and her eyes fluttered closed.
    “Look at me.” Aldrik shook her.
    She opened her eyes and focused on his face, slowly regaining control of her magic sight. Her breathing was ragged, and her hands trembled. Concern was written across Aldrik’s furrowed brow.
    “Mother save me, I really killed them,” she gasped.
    His mouth fell open a moment, but he recovered and relaxed his grip on her wrists. Aldrik stood, helping Vhalla to her feet. When she had her balance, Aldrik finally let go of her and took a step away. “Fritz, take her back to camp,” he ordered briskly.
    “Is it a good idea for me to—” Fritz was uncertain.
    “Do not try my patience, Charem,” Aldrik growled. He was every inch the Fire Lord.
    It was all Fritz needed to spring to life. He scampered over to her and paused. “Can you walk? I mean, do you want help?”
    She shook her head. “I can do it.”
    Elecia stepped toward Aldrik. Her voice was low, but it was loud enough for Vhalla to hear. “She is not ready. You need to give this up now; there isn’t anything you can do for her.”
    “Neiress,” Aldrik barked out Larel’s family name, ignoring Elecia. “I could use a round, if you feel up to it.”
    “It would be my honor, my prince.”