The Fiery Heart by Richelle Mead Read Free Book Online Page A

in the small blocks, and our conversation quieted as we worked. We were both tired and glad to be nearly done for the afternoon. The actual painting would happen tomorrow. It was Rowena’s specialty too, and we wanted to be ready and fresh to make the most of our strengths in this project. It was cool out, but the sky was clear, leaving nothing between the sun and me. That was why I’d consented to the early time, sparing me from the worst of the light. I’d be able to rescue Hopper from that witch soon and then go home in the hopes that Sydney could get away.
    Once all the blocks were on the quad, Rowena grew obsessed with arranging them perfectly. I didn’t care at this point and busied myself texting a message to Sydney on the Love Phone, letting her know that my art was a paltry thing compared to the brilliance of her beauty. She texted back:
This is me rolling my eyes.
To which I replied:
I love you too.
    â€œWe could do this,” said Rowena, setting three of the smaller blocks on top of one another. “Mini-monoliths.”
    â€œWhatever you want.”
    She decided against it and started to lift the top one. I’m not entirely sure what happened after that. I think it was just a subtle shift in her hand gone wrong. Whatever it was, the block slipped from her grasp and fell hard—slamming her hand between it and the brick-covered ground below.
    Her scream rang through the diag, and I moved with a speed that would’ve impressed Eddie. I grabbed the block and lifted it, but as I did, I knew it was a little too late. A few tendrils of spirit told me she’d broken some bones in her hand. And in those split seconds of chaos, I acted. It was her right hand, and breaking it was going to put her out of commission with painting for the rest of the semester. She could do intricate, delicate things with watercolors that I could only dream of. No way could I endanger that. I sent a burst of spirit into her hand, drawing from my own life energy to mend the bones. Healing usually felt like a tingle to the recipient, and I could tell from the shock on her face that she had noticed.
    â€œWhat did you do?” she gasped.
    I fixed my eyes and sent out a burst of compulsion. “Nothing,” I said. “Except move the block. This is a pretty traumatic and confusing experience for you.”
    Her eyes glazed over for a brief moment, and then she nodded. I let go of the magic, the sudden emptiness within me the only indication of just how much I’d pulled out for the healing and compulsion. With the tingling gone from her mind, Rowena cradled the afflicted hand as our classmates came running over.
    â€œHoly shit,” said one of them. “Are you okay?”
    Rowena winced. “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel . . . I mean, it aches . . . but nothing like when it first hit.”
    â€œYou need to see a doctor,” the same guy insisted. “It might be broken.”
    Rowena flinched, and I could guess that the same fears I’d felt were running through her head. I knew there was no permanent damage but had to play along because it was the reasonable thing to do.
    â€œGive me your keys,” I told her. “The campus clinic’s open.”
    Triage got us in quickly, since having a thirty-pound concrete block fall on you was pretty serious. But after an examination and X-rays, the doctor simply shrugged. “Everything’s fine. Maybe it wasn’t as heavy as you thought.”
    â€œIt was pretty heavy,” Rowena said, but relief filled her face. I even thought I caught a glimmer of tears in her eyes as she looked at me. “I guess you just got the block off fast enough.” There was no sign that she remembered that burst of healing.
    â€œBecause I’m manly and brave,” I said solemnly.
    They discharged her, and as we were leaving, her girlfriend, Cassie, showed up. Rowena was pretty, but Cassie was a knockout.