Fireborn

32 ¦ Fiery Rage

Peter raced through our conjoined bathroom and knocked on the door. "Liselle? Are you all right?"

"Fine."

"Can I come in?"

"Not a great idea," I growled through clenched teeth.

"It's the treatments, Liselle," he said through the door. "The Fireborn rage more easily. The chemicals redirect synaptic connections from the prefrontal cortex to your amygdala."

I furrowed my brow. "What? Is that even possible?"

"It makes the Warriors more aggressive, more suggestible, and more prone to violence."

"Good gods!" I sank to the floor, ignoring the shards. "Father's destroying my soul."

Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

How could Father do this? Did he really want to save my life? At what cost?

"Can I come in, please?"

"Yes."

When Peter entered my room, he gaped at the mess. Extending his hands, he muttered a dark magic spell. A cloud of wispy fog hovered over the broken shards and mended the ornaments. In a matter of minutes, I couldn't even tell that I'd had my outburst.

"I'm turning into an evil form of my sister," I said with a pained grimace. "Bragda would rage like that, and I'd just stare at her in dismay."

"Hey," he murmured as he sat on the floor beside me, snaking his arm around my shoulders. "It's not your fault. It's the drugs."

"He's doubling the dosage."

"What?"

"It's only a matter of time before you'll no longer recognize me."

Peter stared out into space, deep in thought. For an eternity we sat like that in silence. The tiny muscle in his jaw spasmed, and he pursed his lips.

"I know how we can circumvent the damage."

"How?"

"If you let me administer the drugs," he replied, "I will use magic to preserve a part of your soul inside me."

"Won't that hurt you instead?"

He averted his gaze. "It won't be that painful, and it will protect your spirit." He turned back and gazed into my eyes. "It's worth it, Liselle. It's only for a couple of weeks."

I ran my hands over my scalp, not yet used to my lack of hair. "I feel like I'm going mad. Like I want to be calm and rational, but something is forcing me not to be. And I can't control it."

"That's how I can help," he insisted, squeezing my hand. "Let me do my bit. All right?"

He cupped my cheek in his hand, and tingles raced across my face and down to my cervical receptors. "I just don't want you to get hurt," I said. "I care too much about you, Peter."

"Don't worry about me," he said as I leaned against him. "In the meantime, I know something that will help you control the aggressive feelings."

"A spell?"

"Even better." He broke out into a broad smile. "Hiking."

"What? We can't leave the castle."

"We can if he grants you special dispensation for training," he replied, reaching inside his robes for a parchment contract. "And I told him you needed to hike to increase your fitness."

"Good gods! You convinced him."

He nodded. "Once you've hiked up Mount Balaam, your soul will rest in the comfort of nature. The fiery energy will fuel your Risan soul."

I rested my head against his shoulder. "I suppose it's worth a try."

"That's the spirit." Peter pressed me close to him in a warm embrace. "I'll come by later this afternoon, and we can go."

❄️🔥❄️🔥

Later that day, Peter visited me while I finished dressing for our hike. He chuckled as he watched me pin three ribbons to my chest like a man. White, green, and blue.

"You don't need ribbons here," he said with a devilish twinkle in his eye.

"It keeps me sane. It reminds me of who I really am despite all this craziness." I ran a hand over my hairless scalp. "Since I no longer have hair, this is my only option."

"I would think you'd be glad to be free of those constraints," he muttered under his breath.

"Projecting much?" I asked, quirking a hairless brow.

"Perhaps. Ready?"

"Ready."

Across the barren basalt plains, we hiked for miles, chatting about everything and nothing to pass the time. When we reached the base of the mountain, we began the steep ascent up the dark slopes of the inactive volcano.

As the hours ticked by, my soul began to feel lighter as though all the rage and anger was seeping from my body towards the ochre sky. By the time we reached the final ascent, my blood was racing through my veins, and my spirits soared.

I raced up the track, leaving Peter in the dust.

I touched the final cairn with a roar of victory like a Minningen wildcat claiming its prey.

"Whoo! We made it!" I cheered as Peter strode up the hill at his typical guide's pace.

He sauntered towards me and touched the cairn, lightly brushing his fingertips against mine. Gentle tingles coursed up my arms as our energy mingled, and our eyes locked.

At that moment, an unfamiliar sensation coursed through my body. It rose from the pit of my stomach and spread like a wildfire. Powerful. Strong. Forceful like a lightning storm.

For the first time, I wanted him.

Not his body, perhaps. But his companionship. The comfort of his words. His touch. Perhaps even a kiss...

As a Risan Sorceress, my heart and soul belonged to all of nature, and I experienced nothing but platonic attraction to others. These drugs changed me in more ways than one, though. Rage wasn't the only unfamiliar emotion welling inside me.

Now I longed for another kind of connection.

My heart thudded when I stared into his eyes, and I had an overwhelming impulse to pull Peter towards me and kiss him right there on the summit. To caress his large muscles. To trace my fingers over his cranial joint.

Am I going mad? This isn't me.

With a shake of my head, I brushed those feelings aside and stared out towards the dark horizon. Standing beside Peter, I watched the dual suns set as darkness fell upon the summit.

Peter inhaled a deep breath and reached for my hand. I swore I heard him hum with pleasure as he intertwined his fingers with mine.