Elevation of Cheer: Raises sunken spirits and provides warmth when cold.
Combine three pinches salt bronze and half a palm’s worth of crushed water blossom petals. To avoid overheating, use only fresh blossoms, not dried.
—WISDOM OF THE FOLK
Ember rolled over, pulled out of sleep by a sound he couldn’t place. Memories rushed back, flooding him with vivid images and recollections of intense pain. He sat straight up with a gasp and clutched his stomach.
Only to find it whole. He ran a hand over his chest and abdomen, but the skin was perfect, unmarred. Even old scars had disappeared. His coloring was also higher, he was nearly glowing with health. A sense of wonder settled upon him.
He lay before the firepit in his nanny’s old dwelling. Movement behind made him tense, but he turned to find Mooriah, pouring steaming water into two drinking bowls. She beamed at him.
“Welcome back.” She brought the bowls to him and sat beside him. “Here, drink this,” she said, passing him the fragrant tea. Its scent was comforting, reminding him of his mother and being taken care of when he was sick as a child.
The bowl warmed his hands, and he focused on that as he gathered his thoughts. “What happened?”
“What is the last thing you remember?”
“The match. I struck Rumble—a killing blow. That should have been the end but… He stabbed me. There was… poison.” The memory of pain assaulted him, but he pushed it back. Did he feel disappointment over his brother’s betrayal? He wasn’t sure, but he certainly was not surprised. He should have expected as much from him.
She nodded solemnly, blowing on her own small bowl. “The wards could not have held up against poison. Especially not a poison of the blood. There is no protection for such.”
“So how am I alive?”
Instead of looking at him, it seemed that she was looking anywhere else. Why was she avoiding his gaze? He leaned closer to find tears welling in her eyes.
“I’m sorry that I failed you.” She shook her head, staring at her tea. “And my chance at becoming clan is gone.”
His chest tightened with disbelief. “Why would you think that?”
She swallowed and shakily told him of what Glister had done. How Mooriah had arrived in the arena to find him near death and had lashed out with her power, knocking out the entire clan.
“After this,” she said, sniffing, “I am certain none will feel safe around me.”
Ember set his tea down and put an arm around her, pulling her close. She buried her head against his chest, wetting it with her tears.
“You have not been back there?”
“I brought you here once Fenix healed you. I didn’t want to return until you’d awakened.”
At the mention of Fenix, his mouth grew dry. “The sorcerer healed me?”
“I could not let you die, Ember. I know you don’t think much of his manipulating life and death, but you should not have died. It was not your time, and your blood was not in service to the Mother. I will not apologize for saving you.” She pulled back to glare at him, her jaw set.
He fought a smile at her mulish expression. “I will never ask you to. I’m grateful to you. Thank you. I suppose I owe the sorcerer a debt as well.” He would have to release the wariness and jealousy of the man who had saved him.
“He is gone. You owe him nothing.” Her voice was carefully blank, but she’d stiffened.
“Are you… upset about him leaving?” He held his breath, unsure if he really wanted to hear her response.
Her head whipped around until she was frowning at him. “What? No. I—” She shook her head. “No.”
She set her mug down and stroked his face. “I only wanted for you to be all right. My father is gone too, apparently. Without even saying goodbye.” She smiled sadly. “We were lucky that Fenix was still there. Without an Earthsinger, you would not be alive.”
He felt his silent debt to the Singer in question grow. But was glad the man was gone.
Mooriah leaned against him, placing a hand on his chest. Ember stilled, not wanting her to move. “I don’t know where I will go,” she said. “I doubt I will be able to stay in Night Snow now.”
“We shall see,” he murmured and lifted her hand to kiss the back of it.
“I would do it again though,” she whispered, voice grave. “A thousand times over, no matter the consequence.”
“We are not sure of the consequence yet. Not until we return and face the clan. How long has it been?”
“Half a day. But I don’t want to go back yet.”
The sooner they returned the sooner he could see about setting this right and ensuring her place in the clan. Maybe they would redo the match or maybe, since Ember had rightfully won, the officials or Crimson would rule in his favor.
“We should—”
She silenced him by pressing her lips against his. Her kiss was desperate, seeking. It ignited a strange energy that had been thrumming through his veins since he’d awakened. He felt more alive, more energetic than he ever had before. He deepened their kiss until he swore he could feel it in his spine and ankles and wrists. Mooriah was everywhere; infused into every cell of his being.
As if to reinforce that thought, she shifted to straddle him. He was vaguely aware of the drinking bowls tipping over and tea pouring down into the firepit. But if Ember was feeling more animated, Mooriah apparently was too.
She pushed him down until he lay on his back with her atop him. Her hands explored his chest, running across his pectorals, down the ridges of his abdomen, and back up again.
She lowered her head and trailed kisses across him, laving him with her tongue and gently nibbling his skin. Her teeth grazed his nipple and he hissed, hardening to stone. She ground against him, the heat between her legs inflaming his already needy erection.
He took control, rolling them until he was on top of her. She spread her legs wide to accommodate him. Starting at her jaw, he kissed his way down her neck and shoulder. The fabric of her chestcloth was in the way; he tugged at its tie to loosen it. Mooriah rose and removed the offending clothing, presenting her bared breasts to him.
Firelight made her skin glisten. He palmed her breasts, testing their weight and running the pad of his thumb across one, dark nipple. The urge to taste was too strong to ignore. His tongue ran circles around first one then the other, and he grazed her with his teeth, satisfied when she bucked in response.
Then he delved lower, kissing across the gentle curve of her belly, gauging her reaction. His hands cupped generous hips, and he nuzzled their apex through her waistcloth.
Her fingers trembled as she undid her belt and slid out of her remaining clothing. Then she was bare before him, and he could feast.
Mooriah writhed and squirmed as Ember’s tongue attacked her core. He lapped at her with a fervency she would never have guessed possible. She squeezed her eyes tight under the assault and whimpered.
Her legs were mobile, kicking at the air when he placed his large hands on her thighs to still her. Then he resumed his attack with even more urgency.
She clutched the mats beside her as the pleasure rose and crested and she breathed out her emotions, chanting his name over and over again.
All was still for a moment. She no longer held control of her body, it belonged to Ember. He crawled up her body in order to claim it.
If her fingers worked, she would have undone his waistcloth, but she was lucky that he attended to the task himself, very efficient. She did manage to lift her arm to stroke the thick length of him. The action made him still, his eyes glittering in the firelight.
This brought back more of her fine motor skills. She stroked him again, squeezing her fist around him. He sucked in a breath in response and removed her hand, lowering his weight onto her.
He licked the shell of her ear and kissed her jaw as she wriggled beneath him, eager to rub against his solid hardness. “Mooriah,” he said, voice husky.
“Yes?”
“I am yours now. Whatever happens.”
She couldn’t respond to that and was grateful when he guided himself into her. The slow push inside made her eyes roll back into her head with relief. It felt like he was coming home inside her body.
She gripped him tight, their breathing deepening. He found her mouth, and they kissed messily, then he retreated from her body to enter again.
She wrapped her legs around him and tilted her pelvis to meet his thrusts, urging him onward silently. He met the challenge and soon was pistoning into her. The mats beneath them slid across the ground with each thrust. She planted her heels on the backs of his thighs and gave herself over to the sensations overtaking her.
When she went over the massive crest this time, he was with her. Spilling his seed inside her and shouting his release.
They lay there afterward, clinging to each other. The fire in the pit had cooled to nothing but embers. Ember—the man—shifted his weight, but she squeezed him tighter, not wanting him to go yet. Not wanting him to ever leave her.
Wishing that when he said he belonged to her, it could somehow be true.