Spark of Chaos (Spark of Chaos #1)

Chapter 11

Isiilde floated in a vast, uncharted sea. Pain lay on the horizon, but familiar voices kept it at bay. Eventually, as her fever burned out and pain lost its bite, she surfaced, opening her eyes.

Morigan was sitting by her bedside. "Don't try to talk, Isiilde. You've been mostly unconscious for four days."

The healer slipped a hand behind her neck and pressed a cup to her lips. A few sips, that was all, before Morigan pulled the cup away, leaving her wanting more.

"You can drink again in a few minutes."

Isiilde tried to sit up, but pain nearly pushed her back into darkness. She had to leave this island. Now.

"Calm down, child," Morigan said, smoothing back her hair. "The roof collapse broke four of your ribs. A length of wood impaled you here." She pointed to a large patch of salve-covered flesh. "We healed most of the damage, but you've been fighting a fever. Oen and me had a time of it, so the bruising will just have to mend on its own."

"Where's Oen?" Isiilde whispered.

Morigan studied her. "Resting. I finally chased him away."

"Who's been tending to me?" Isiilde asked, dreading the answer.

"Just me and Greta. I trust her."

And Isiilde trusted Morigan—she was the closest person Isiilde had to a mother.

"Does Oen know I've come of age?"

"I don't think so."

"Please don't tell anyone," she begged, tears leaking from her eyes.

Morigan wiped her tears. "Hush, now. I won't tell a soul."

"I don't want to be sold," she whispered.

"I doubt Oen will let it come to that."

"But he's bound by honor."

"He is," Morigan admitted. "But it's foolish to keep secrets from him."

"He'll have no choice."

Morigan smiled down at her. That smile was filled with grief and sadness, and wisdom. "There is always a choice, Isiilde. And sometimes, patience is the best one. Know when to wait, when to draw back your bow, and when to loose the arrow. Do you understand?"

"I can't shoot a bow."

Morigan sighed. She and Oenghus had tried to teach Isiilde to use a blade (like any good Nuthaanian child), or even shoot a bow, but weapons made the nymph ill—violence went against her very nature.

"I'm telling you to wait—to see what happens. It's no reason to try to end your life."

"I wasn't trying to."

"Then what happened?"

"I was scared—nothing more. I don't want to be sold. I don't know what happened." It was the truth, and it was all she had.

"It's your choice what you tell him, but Isiilde..." Morigan sighed. "You destroyed Oen's distillery and if you give him the same excuse you always give him, then it's only going to make things worse."

"I'm not going to lie to him. He can lock me in a dungeon if he likes, but I won't tell him." Her battered body trembled with conviction.

"Oh, child, it won't come to that," Morigan whispered, bending forward to kiss her forehead. "Oen loves you with all his heart. And I love you, too. All you need to worry about right now is regaining your strength."

* * *

Isiilde awoke to more pain. And a bouquet of wildflowers by her bedside. The Orb of Memories sat beside it. There wasn't a scratch on its rune-etched surface.