Phoenix

Bad decisions

Ash was drunk. Though her knowledge of the phenomena was limited, she knew enough to assume that seeing double meant she'd had a more than recommended amount of wine. She also knew that if she didn't retract herself from Gus' arms, she was going to do something she might regret.

After returning to the bonfire, she'd found a whole bottle Oroton's special 2050 vintage neck deep in the sand, unguarded, and had commenced a slow drowning to the liquid fire, stopping only to catch her breath between gulps. As the alcohol slid hot down her throat, she thought about Eli, how she'd been so wrong about him, so blinded. Then, she drank through thoughts of the oncoming war, thoughts of Jai and the Director. She wondered vaguely why Oroton was using all his best vintages on one night of celebrations, then concluded the worst. It was probably because this Spring Equinox would be their last.

She didn't want to think anymore.

By the time Gus found her, the world was moving beneath her feet like a boat on a choppy sea. Gus grabbed her from behind and dragged her towards the drums and music. "Come on, Sprout," he said, twirling her around so that her world spun out of control. "Dance with me."

"I can't dance," she mumbled, tongue snagging on her words.

Gus lifted her into the air, then set her down again. "Of course you can. Everyone can dance."

She staggered a few paces then leant on him for support. "No. I really can't dance."

"Whoa, easy," Gus said. "How much wine have you had?"

"Just one."

"Cup?"

"Bottle."

Gus raised his eyebrows. "Ever heard of sharing?"

When she didn't laugh, he slid his arm around her waist and escorted her away from the dance area. "Better get you some water."

Ash was vaguely aware of his hand on her hip, his fingers rubbing the length of her torso against her robe. Her sluggish mind characterised the feeling into the 'nice' category, and even nicer when she noticed Eli in deep conversation with Freia, sitting so close they might as well have been touching. Freia kept grazing the lines of Eli's dragon scales with her eyes, and Eli wasn't exactly moving away.

Ash looked up into Gus' hopeful face and for the first time saw how handsome he was. His face was clean, scarless, the kind of face that hadn't been weather-toughened, touched by trauma, lined with sadness, or anger. His hair flopped effortlessly away from his face and his eyes were a clear blue, not molten silver or storm grey and ever-changing like Eli's. They were open to what they wanted. They were open to her.

Whether it was the music, or the wine, or her swirling emotions, she didn't know, but she took Gus' hand and did the boldest thing she'd done in all her time on the island. It wasn't moving a boulder or climbing the world's tallest tree, it wasn't swimming a half marathon when she didn't even know how to keep her head about water, she simply led Gus away from the fire, away from the music, away from the people and onto a quiet patch of beach, secluded, soft underfoot, coved in a semicircle of palms.

And now, she was in his arms, his laboured breathing on her face, his fingers dragging at the ties of her robe while he kissed her—lips like a butter, gentle as though she might break. She pushed against him, closed the space between their bodies and pulled him back into the sand.

Trailing kisses, the press of heat, the quest of Gus's hands on her body, wandering in unexpected directions, gripping and grazing parts of her that had never been touched with so much intention, with such specific purpose and all for her. She understood now how Evelyn must've felt, sliding between the sheets at the orphanage, rattling the bunk, oblivious to the daggers of her dorm mates who were trying to sleep.

Gus peeled off her robe, but stopped when the silk fell low to expose her shoulders. "You're glowing." His fingers drifted across her skin, tracing the vanes of the feathers, which shimmered and glowed brighter at his touch. "They're beautiful."

The expression on his face was like that of Freia's, when she'd stared in wondrous awe at Eli's dragon scales. Eli and Freia who were probably touching now. Eli and Freia who might be doing what Gus and her were doing.

Ash's hand rose to her cheek, pushing aside Apple's neat hairstyle to find the hot puffy skin where Freia had slapped her, still sensitive to press. The thought of them together was like being slapped again.

She pulled her robe back over her shoulders, an overwhelming queasiness spreading from her stomach to her throat, and leaving a sour taste in her mouth. The cove was too small, the air too still. Clamminess spread over her body. She needed air.

Retracting herself from Gus' arms, she walked to the ocean, waded through the jelly slip of water until she was waist deep. She splashed her face, but it did little to ease her nausea.

Gus glided in after her. "Are you okay?" he said, touching her shoulder.

She wasn't okay. There was a sour taste in her mouth, and the overwhelming urge to...

Her throat tightened.

"Sprout?"

It came out in a startling torrent of red, chunky in parts, and tasted not so dis-similar to when it went in. She expected Gus to run away, to leave her to her purge in solitude. Instead, his hand met her back, stroking gently between convulsions.

The people of Paradise Island were strange like that. It seemed the more repulsive she became, the more they opened their arms and pulled her in. When Jacob had seen her burn down that clearing, he'd kept her secret. When Apple and Ollie had seen her working too hard, they'd made Oroton force her to have a day off.

But only one person knew the full extent of her repulsiveness—had seen her murder Freia's brother, knew the extent of her struggle with her force, knew her real name. If only that person wasn't a murderer and a liar too.

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