Journey of Flame

Chapter eighteen

Faxon was waiting with the rest of the crew when we returned, to my surprise. He wrapped Voss in a tight embrace the moment we stepped onto the ship, and Voss chided him for being up while he should've been resting. Faxon didn't seem to care, though, and I couldn't blame him.

I instructed the crew to split the gold amongst themselves but that the sword would remain in my cabin so that it would be ready when I used it to hack Cleaver's head from his body. Or perhaps Faxon or Voss deserved that final, killing blow. I'd have to think on it more before deciding.

Bedelia was on my heels as I headed into my cabin, Snowfall bounding behind her to catch up. I smiled warmly as I held the door for the baby dragon, then crossed the room, setting the sword against the altar while Bedelia had a seat on my bed.

"So, you wanted to talk," she said. "Now would probably be the best time for that."

I winced. Right. I did say that. I took a deep breath and turned to face her. "Last night," I began, "what I said—what I did—I..." I sighed. "I just want to know if I made you uncomfortable. If I read the wrong signals and thought..."

She shook her head. "You didn't make me uncomfortable. I feel as you do." The words felt far too formal, distant, as if she were dancing around the meaning behind them. "But... I'm leaving once we get to Ventura. I'll likely never see you again."

The words sent pain blooming somewhere deep in me, but I forced myself to weather them.

"It's not fair to either of us to pursue this," she murmured.

"So stay," I blurted. "Don't go to Ventura. Stay here; travel Vilia with us."

She shook her head. "I can't."

"The hell you can't!" I countered, then checked my tone and said, "You are treated fairly here. I will make sure no harm comes to you. You know that."

"I'm not doing it for me."

The words made me pause. "Then who are you doing it for? Snowfall?"

She shook her head. "No, though Snowfall definitely deserves to get to that place as well." She shot the small dragon a smile, but it soon faded as she sighed and met my gaze again. "My parents always wanted to get there. Saved up as much coin they could spare to try and hire someone to take us all. But they never had enough." She bit her lip. "They were Fire Breathe- Fire Wielders, like me, and one day the village found out somehow. Maybe someone caught them teaching me through a window or something, I don't know."

She shook her head, tears filling her eyes, and I found myself coming over and taking a seat beside her. "A mob came in the middle of the night wearing iron armor. The only element immune to magic. And they burned the cottage."

I reached out, taking her hand, and she squeezed my fingers.

"My parents and I tried to flee through the back door, and I made it through, but part of the ceiling collapsed and blocked the door before they could follow me. I... I tried to use my magic to burn the boards away, but it wasn't enough. I was young, and my magic wasn't at its peak yet. But my parents told me to run. They told me to go and find Ventura. And then more of the ceiling caved in, and I heard them screaming-" Her voice broke, and I wrapped my arms around her, holding her as she cried.

"I ran," she sobbed. "Like a coward, I ran from them. Left them. And ever since, I have hated my magic because all it does is kill and hurt and destroy, and yet I could never stop myself from practicing it anyway-"

I shushed her gently.

"Is there something wrong with me?" she breathed. "Fire magic, all it does is hurt people, and yet I find myself wanting to practice."