The King's Cursed Bride

Blind

 Smoke.

The heavy, hot air tickled her throat, triggering a cough. She lifted the collar of her dress and clamped it against her mouth and nose. She'd smelt smoke in Zonah before—many street dwellers clustered around small fires of their own making—but never this strongly.

The wagon jerked to a halt. The tarp was peeled back, and blinding light poured over her.

"I'm sorry, miss. Can't go no further."

She sat up in the wagon and curled a lock of hair around her ear. The lurching wagon always seemed intent on ruining whatever braid or bun she'd scraped her hair into. "Why? What's the matter?" Her gaze caught on a thick, tar-black funnel of smoke darkening the horizon.

"It seems there's a fire somewhere near that pub."

Her whole body stilled—and for a split second, even her heart didn't dare beat. Avril's threat. Could she have... Carissa shook her head, hoping the movement would dislodge the thought. No. Avril might be a jealous witch, but surely she didn't have the cruelty to resort to pyromania.

She lowered herself from the wagon, skirts bundled in one fist.

"Miss? Surely you don't mean to still go." The young man's face wrinkled with concern. She regretted more lines would crease his face because of her. He looked far too old for his age as was.

"I'm just going to investigate. You should continue your water delivery."

His jaw tensed.

"Don't worry so. I'll see you tomorrow morning." She forced a cheery note into her words and a smile onto her lips. "You have patrons depending on your timely deliveries."

After another long pause, the boy dipped his head. "Alright. But don't go too close, eh? Mister Grumpy Healer Man wouldn't like it."

Mister Grumpy indeed. "Of course." Her lie felt thick as butter in her mouth and slipped off her tongue just as easily. Before her deceit was able to surface in her expression, she whirled away from the wagon and marched towards the smoke.

Eventually, the alley became so thick with it she could scarcely breathe. She was forced to the streets, where the wind dispersed some of the smoke. A crowd clustered along the street, far enough from the blazing building to only feel wisps of heat, close enough to observe the lick of every flame.

As she neared, she spotted a blackened sign dangling the building. A curled wave had been carved into its surface. The cap of foam cupping the wave's end was no longer white—it seemed the paint had burnt off. Carissa didn't need to read the words beneath to know what the sign said: The Seven Seas Pub.

Could Avril have really been behind this? Had her jealousy been enough to tip her over the edge? Carissa stared at the building and shook her head. Why would Avril do this now? When Carissa wasn't even there? What if she'd caused others to suffer?

Her shoulders sank as the fire branded her vision. There would be no survivors, not from a disaster like this. She began to turn.

An agonized scream rent the air, tearing so violently at her heart she was tempted to plug her ears. A helpless, wordless plea. The next scream fizzled into a sob, then a whimper. But it was clear enough that she could identify the voice.

The little boy. He was trapped in the building.

The building was a bonfire fit for a gathering of giants. Within seconds, the boy would be reduced to blackened bone and smoldering ash—as would any fool who dared to attempt to rescue him.