I wake up damp. Perspiration isn’t the culprit. Dreyna was forced to hose me down to smother the flame. Everything in the room is wet, and it smells like smoke.

“Where are they?” I jerk upright, but an intense bout of vertigo lands me flat on my back.

“They ran to get help,” Dreyna replies nervously.

I roll toward the sound of her voice, opening one eye to test my visual fortitude. Since there’s only one of her, I bravely open the second. Disappointingly, there aren’t two piles of smoldering ash where Alexandria and Cathain were standing.

I slowly lift from the couch, careful of my momentum. “What happened?”

“A flood,” she deadpans.

“Where are my friends?”

“They have not returned.”

“And yours. Shouldn’t you be warning your friends?”

I didn’t mean to involve her in an altercation, but her presence here put her in the line of fire. Literally. I doubt any of the Amazon Coterie will appreciate that. They were pretty freaked out about us showing up in the first place. Apparently, they had a decent reason to be anxious. My bad. Hard lessons? They’re my jam.

“They are aware. They will come for me if necessary.”

“What do you mean if?”

“This behavior is not uncommon for Matthew’s sisters. They like to ripple the waters, and they are very unkind.”

“Very unkind is a gracious description,” I grouse. “They shouldn’t have picked a fight. They’ve essentially guaranteed I won’t join them by demanding compliance.”

“That is not Tayte’s way.” She rises from her cross-legged position in front of me. “His intentions...there will be repercussions for this. He would not take someone against their will. Nor would he support them doing it.”

“Tayte’s their father?”

She nods. “As well as the Rebel leader.”

“That’s why Matthew was so adamant the Connells didn’t interfere. He couldn’t protect them if they did.” I’m not particularly interested in thinking of Matthew as a buffer where people I love are concerned.

“We cannot choose our family,” Dreyna defends him. “He does not approve of their methods.”

“Sitting idly by is a choice.”

“Is it, Little Fire? Do you not wish to remain in the middle, outside such choices?” She’s right, but I hate conceding that my middling status is a form of avoidance. Technically, I didn’t opt out of side-taking. I’m supporting humanity. Whatever side helps facilitate that desire is the side I’ll end up on. “You must not be angry with Matthew or Tayte. Your opinion of their cause should not be based on the sisters.”

“Matthew left a rather bad aftertaste, all on his own.” I fidget uncomfortably in my wet clothing on the equally wet couch. “What’s their cause, exactly?”

“To overthrow the Tribunal.”

“What would that change?”

“Their rule involves the annihilation of any probable threat and has brought much sadness to both sides. They do not allow choices to be made.”

“You think new leadership would change the dynamic?” I scoff. “Not this leadership.”

“Tayte could not have known they were coming,” she repeats. “He would not have allowed it.”

“You expect me to believe they care about parental approval or consent, for that matter?”

“He would not have allowed them in firing range,” she insists. “Curious? Yes, but desired answers would be fielded by Matthew. Sending his daughters? No. What if they were harmed?”

“Were they?”

“They were not harmed.”

“I’ll try harder next time.” My energy is growing and unstable without the added benefit of release. If they want a fight, I’m happy to give them one.

“Instigating violence is not a solution.” She frowns. “I am sorry this happened, but the cause is not to blame.”

“Why not? If the cause chooses those two for mouthpieces, what else should I think? What if he did send them on purpose? Why are you assuming he didn’t?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“I only have faith he did not.”

“Humor me. Pretend for a minute he did. What would that mean?”

“He knew what would happen.” She sighs. “He was hoping it would.”

Tayte sent his daughters into the fire chamber. He was after a favor, me eliminating two very big problems without him getting his hands dirty. What sort of parent would do that? A bad one. “Some father,” I hiss.

My wet sneakers slosh as I pace back and forth. The movement helps subdue the flames coursing through my body. If something ignites, the only person I’ll harm is the sympathetic Solathair, staring at me with a determination that was missing before.

“They should be back by now.”

She wrings her hands. “They will come shortly.”

She’s unsure what to say to cool me down. Truth be told, it won’t do her any good to try. Something is delaying them. Do they know what happened? I inhale deeply, drawing in her Coriander and Calendula scent. I sneeze. Weird one.

“Tayte wants things to be better. He is very focused on his future.”

I shorten my strides, the increased pace helping little to restrain the flame. “You realize he threw you under the bus with me, right?”

“Our greatest gift to Sumairs was Matthew, though he refuses to believe this. Tayte understands.”

I stop dead in my tracks and glower at her. “What are you hoping to gain here?”

“I only wish you to know what Tayte hopes to accomplish. I wish you to keep your eyes open.”

“Obviously, I need eyes in the back of my head.” I huff. “What came first? The chicken or the egg?” If I don’t derail my thought train, it’s barreling into an explosive blockade.

“Matthew was first. I converted his father upon request.”

“He hates what he is. Why would he ask you to do that?”

“It was a troubled road in the beginning. I thought only to help him. I owe him so much.”

“You owe him nothing!” I bellow.

“I owe him everything.”

“You lost your way. He might be the outcome of those actions, but you’ve done enough to atone.”

“He will forgive me,” she claims.

“Let me get this straight.” I abruptly halt. “While waiting for that to happen, you’re just helping him grow his army and letting him take whatever he wants from you until you have nothing left to give? Am I hearing you correctly?”

“If he wills it.” Her sadness is gut-wrenching.

“Even if it means creating more psycho-sisters, who will gain no greater joy than draining you to dregs?”

“They were failed attempts. Tayte hoped to find a medium for Matthew’s ability in a more contented being. This would relieve Matthew’s responsibility and free him.”

Matthew doesn’t have a personality I want to see replicated in anyone. His gift, however, is beneficial to Sumairs. If that’s what Tayte was after, I can’t really fault him for it.

“Cathain was the first sister. It was a trial with a live host that ended rather badly.” Dreyna grimaces. “Alexandria was spawned in a Petri dish, then implanted in a host.”

“A host?” I balk. “You planted the seed and took them from their mothers once ripe?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Tayte raised them until they were mature.”

“What did he do with their mothers?”

She winces, and I have my answer.

“If you want sympathy for your freaky family, you’re not winning any brownie points with the back story.”

“Alexandria was several entries into the same pool meant to be one sole unit. As you have seen, she didn’t join in a cohesive way. She is several people, each personality having its own form of magic.”

“Why was she converted if she was damaged?”

“We had hoped the conversion would fuse the personalities.”

“We?”

“Who else could have converted them?”

I glower. “You did this?”

She hangs her head lower. I don’t want to further demoralize her, but she isn’t innocent. She deserves her mistreatment to a degree, which better explains why she allows it to continue.

“I’m guessing there are only two sisters because you figured out you weren’t getting it right.”

“Matthew warned his father it would not matter what was tried. He would never succeed. He believes himself an irredeemable abomination. I cannot change his perception. I tend to him as best I can.”

“Finding the good in yourself would be a more fruitful venture. Leave him to rot.”

Her laugh is eerily desperate. “The good in me?”

I won’t talk in circles with her. Matthew isn’t the only one with shoddy perceptions. Hers are super skewed. Regardless of my opinions about her unjustified allegiance, I still need her to explain how I can help my mother.

“You’re a filter,” I reroute. “How do you feed them in a way that doesn’t drain you? Don’t you worry they’ll take too much?”

“No.”

I need to learn how her filter works to adapt it for use on Mom. Could I vaccinate her if she was strong enough? Maybe this crap shoot of a journey can still have a positive result.

“They do not gain energy directly from me. It is complicated.”

“Try me.”

“Where liquid is my native element, I can control my liquid temperature. Allowing the energy to boil causes my essence to pass through this physical form. As steam, the extraction is slower, facilitating separation that allows them to inhale it.”

“Like distillation.”

She tilts her head to the side.

“Forget it.” I clench my fists again at my sides. “That won’t help me fix my mother.”

“No, it cannot work this way for you,” she agrees.

“I need to see the connection to cut it.”

“You cannot cut the connection, Little Fire.”

“Why not?”

“If your mother’s consciousness is not in her body, and you sever the connection...”

I finally understand the gift I gave my mother. The fire displays in unique ways for each Sumair. For my mother, it works in a hastening fashion. It’s the reverse of Matthew’s deceleration. Her spirit is in perpetual fast-forward. As such, her mind can’t sync with her body.

“I’m fairly confident I can join the two. She regains consciousness when I’m funneling fire fuel into her.”

“And when you stop?”

“She’s gone again.”

“Are you willing to risk permanently separating her from her consciousness?”

“No.”

Until I can be sure her body and mind are in the same place, I can’t risk taking the scissors to her Sumair status. As my realization further frustrates me, a single flicker finds purchase, targeting the carpet below me. It’s damp, so the flame immediately fizzles out. That finger firework was a dud.

“You are losing control,” she cautions. “If you cannot contain your flame, the Tribunal will extinguish it.”

“Good!” I shout. “Let them take it! I don’t want it!”

I mean it. If they want to appear out of thin air and strip me of my life, taking the flame with them, I’ll gleefully give everything up. So long as they can ensure the safety of those around me, I’ll welcome the removal, even at the cost of all the presented opportunities left lingering. They aren’t worth the risk. Not the desire to help my mother. Not the potential to stop two warring sides. Nothing is worth the risk.