“And you want me to eat this?” asked Scorch.
“I do,” Vivid said, “but you should know that it’s a mild hallucinogenic. It will make your mind bend in new ways.”
Scorch held the silver leaf up to his lips. “I’m not going to wake up surrounded by monks, am I?”
Vivid’s expression was blank, but Scorch thought he could detect a minute tensing of his shoulders, and he didn’t like that, so without further questioning, he popped the leaf into his mouth. It tasted sweet and musky, and he let it sit on his tongue for a moment before giving it a brief chew and swallowing it down.
“So,” he said, leaning back on his hands, “what’s a hallucinogenic?”
The realization came upon him gradually, like a sunrise, while he was staring at the fire. A hand moved in front of the flames, and he thought it was his mother’s hand. He smiled and turned to look at her, but Vivid was there instead.
“Vivid,” he whispered. “Vivid.” He liked to say that name, but he liked looking into the fire even more, so he returned his eyes to the flickering orange blaze. The hand passed over it again, but when he traced it down from wrist to forearm to soul, he saw it was his own. “She made it look so easy,” he said to no one. “She would just,” he waved his hand before the fire, “and the kindling would ignite.”
Vivid moved closer. “You can do that, too,” he told him. His voice was a whisper, but it felt to Scorch as if it echoed off all the trees of the forest, just to end up brushing against his ears.
“I can?”
“Lift your hand,” Vivid said, and Scorch lifted his hand, fingers relaxed, palm facing the fire. He waved it back and forth. Nothing happened. A moment later, his other hand was holding something and his entire body felt light as a breeze. He waved his hand and the flame jumped, surging high in the air before returning to its normal height.
“Gods!” Scorch squeezed the object in his other hand, but when he looked down, he discovered it was not an object at all, but Vivid’s hand. “Can we do it again?” he asked, glancing up at Vivid with pupil-blown eyes.
Vivid nodded and Scorch held his hand tight. He lifted his other hand and waved it confidently in front of the flames. They leapt into the air, higher than before. He laughed raucously, deliriously, and jumped to his feet, pulling Vivid with him. Vivid freed himself from his grip.
“Try again, without my help,” he ordered, crossing his arms across his chest to keep his hands hidden.
Scorch felt a twinge of disappointment, but did as Vivid asked, giving the fire another sweep with his hand. The flames leapt, but not as high. He turned to Vivid, swelling with pride, but Vivid wasn’t smiling, and he wanted him to smile. Scorch knew he had to light something else on fire, something that wasn’t already burning, and then Vivid would smile. He gave a dramatic wave to a nearby bush and it burst into flames.
“Audrey,” Vivid sighed, and the Water lifted both her hands in the air. One moment, Scorch was watching the fire spread from the bush to the brush beside it, and the next, it was pouring rain. The fire went out beneath the torrent, both on the bush and their campfire, and Vivid sulked like a wet cat. “You could have just doused it,” he said.
Audrey gave Vivid a look with her one eye and said, unapologetically, “He likes to start fires, I like to get wet.” She lifted her face to the rain and Scorch laughed.
Vivid looked up at Scorch and took his hand. They ran through the forest, the rain following them, and Vivid cursed at Audrey as she made it fall even harder. By the time they reached the shelter of rocks behind the waterfall, they were drenched to the bone. Scorch leaned breathlessly against the stones and Vivid dropped his hand. A whirl of wind kicked up around them, blowing them dry, and then Vivid grabbed Scorch’s chin and directed his gaze.
“Your pupils are huge,” he noted.
“Yours are big, too,” Scorch sighed, staring unabashedly into Vivid’s eyes. It was true; his pupils were large and black as he looked up at Scorch, but Scorch hadn’t seen him take any of the Dream Moss leaf.
“I’m freezing,” Audrey announced, opening the door of the tunnel. “Can you stare at each other inside, where it’s warmer?”
Vivid dropped his hand from Scorch’s face immediately and followed her inside. Scorch, still dazed, floated behind them. The torches lighting the cave chambers flickered with potential, and Scorch fancied it looked like they were waving to him. The trip to the cots was blurry, but he thought they might have passed Elias on the way there. He remembered blue eyes swimming in his vision, followed by a tug on his wrist as he was led quickly down a tunnel.
When he finally sat on his cot, he collapsed onto his back with a sigh. The ceiling was fuzzy, but in a wonderful, soft, happy way, and then he saw Vivid’s face leaning over him, and that was soft and wonderful, too. Vivid held out an ivory stem and Scorch parted his lips for it. Vivid’s eyebrows knitted together disapprovingly, but after a few second’s hesitation, he placed it between Scorch’s lips, carefully avoiding any physical touch. Scorched chewed at the stem with a smug grin.
“Go to sleep, Scorch,” Vivid said, and then his face disappeared from view. Scorch could hear the cot beside his creaking. He shut his eyes, his fingers flexing excitedly.
A wall in his chest had been beaten until it crumbled, and now he could walk over the wreckage and see beyond. He fell asleep thinking about the fire leaping, and the way, when Scorch had squeezed Vivid’s hand, Vivid had squeezed back.
The next day, Vivid herded Scorch to the eastern training room and wasted no time directing him in front of the tiny white candles. Scorch lifted his hand before he could second-guess himself, and the middle candle flickered to life, a small flame dancing on the wick. Vivid caught his eye, and though he didn’t smile, his lips quirked. By the end of the day, the entire row of candles was lit, as well as the standing torch. Scorch was proud of himself, and he thought Vivid was proud too, at least a little.
The following day was considerably less pleasant. It began when Scorch woke to fingers brushing the hair off his forehead. He stretched languidly, opening his eyes. When he saw Elias sitting on his cot, he nearly threw himself off the mattress.
“Don’t be scared,” Elias breezed. “I only wanted to say hi. I can’t do that when your watchdog is constantly sniffing around.” He crossed his hands in his lap. “How is training coming along?”
Scorch wanted to leap from the cot, but he also didn’t want to give Elias the satisfaction of perturbing him out of his bed. He braced himself and tried to appear relaxed. “It’s going well, thanks.”
“Good, good,” said Elias, gratified. “And how do you find working beneath our dear Viv? Is he gentle with you? Does he take it slow?”
Scorch felt his fingertips growing hot. “You’re obsessed with him,” he hissed. There went acting unperturbed.
“Ouch.” Elias held a hand to his chest in artificial upset. “Am I obsessed? I’m not sure. You are the one who calls out his name at night.” At Scorch’s widening eyes, Elias laughed. “And before you ask, yes,” he leaned in close, his lips scraping Scorch’s ear, “he’s heard you.”
Scorch blanched, pulling back to study Elias’ face, but it was impossible to tell if he was lying. Vivid had already heard Scorch moaning in his sleep. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that he overheard something else, was it?
“Let me give you some advice,” Elias said. “Vivid is pretty, but he’s hardly worth the effort.” His fingers grazed Scorch’s jaw, which was prickled anew with blond shadow, and Scorch wrenched back his head and caught his wrist. It only made Elias’ smile widen. “I know you, Scorch,” he whispered, “and he won’t be able to give you what you need.”
Scorch threw his wrist away and sprang from the cot with fire in his step. “You don’t know me. And I don’t think you know Vivid, either.”
Elias made himself comfortable on the thin mattress, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back on the pillow. “I bet I know him better than you do,” he
said with a wink.
Scorch disliked him immensely in that moment, not only because of his rude words about Vivid, but because, in a warped, terrible way, Elias reminded him of himself, a gnarled version of who he might have become. Cocky and lewd and offensive. Was that the way people at the Guild saw him? Had Merric thought Scorch an arrogant, conceited ass, like Elias? The idea turned his stomach.
“Your face is red,” Elias teased. “I’m not making you angry, am I?”
Scorch’s fingers curled into fists, his nails denting the flesh of his sweaty palm.
“It enrages you to think of him with someone else, doesn’t it?” the Fire continued with a sneer. “Do you think it’s because we’re both blond? Maybe he has a thing.”
“It’s your crassness that enrages me,” Scorch said, realizing a second too late the idiocy in revealing his vulnerabilities to someone like Elias.
“That’s phenomenal. Don’t like me talking about Vivid that way? Then you probably don’t want to hear about how easy he was to—”
Scorch grabbed Elias and ripped him bodily from the cot. His skin was prickling all over and his brow was sweaty. “Stop talking,” he snarled.
Elias looked delighted. “Curious how overprotective you are for someone you don’t even know. Is that what your beast responds to?”
Scorch clenched his fingers into a fist hard enough to make his joints pop.
“If I told you,” said Elias, slinking into his personal space like he owned it, “that I was going to kill Vivid, slit his throat while he slept beside you—”
Scorch erupted, his fingernails bursting into talons and stabbing into his palms. He cried out, unfurled his bloody fists, and wrapped a hand around Elias’ throat. His shoulder blades shifted beneath his skin, and the beginning of wings began to sprout, crunching and jutting his bones. He was going to change right there, he was going to lose control.
“Scorch,” a voice said softly behind him, and Scorch exhaled a puff of smoke that parted Elias’ hair. “If you do that in here, Axum will send you right back to Elias for training.”
Vivid’s voice echoed in his ears and his body shook in response. Elias smirked when Scorch released him, tossing his hair back from his self-satisfied face. Still burning on the inside, Scorch collapsed to his knees, trying to fight the rows of scales inching their way up his forearms.
He heard Vivid step beside him, felt his hand touch the top of his head. “Calm down.” A cool breeze cooled the sweat on his body.
“How did you train him to respond to you so quickly?” Elias asked, and Scorch lifted his eyes to find the fiery blond squaring his shoulders.
For the time being, Vivid ignored Elias, opting to clasp his fingers in Scorch’s hair and tug. Scorch’s head bent back, and Vivid leaned down to speak in his ear. “You can control it.”
He focused his eyes on Vivid. He sucked in a breath that burned his lungs, and his exhale steamed through his nostrils. But when he breathed again, the heat lessened, and with two more labored sighs, it was gone. His leathery sprouts of wings collapsed into his shoulder blades with a click. He ran a bloody hand across his wrist and the scales smoothed back to vulnerable flesh. Blood smeared his skin where his talons had pierced his palms. When Vivid’s fingers loosened in his hair, gently tickling his scalp upon their departure, Scorch lamented their loss.
“What a good boy,” Elias spat, and in the blink of an eye, he was on the ground with Vivid’s boot pressed against his windpipe.
“Your company is unwanted,” Vivid growled, pushing his heel into Elias’ straining throat.
Scorch stood on shaky legs and watched as Elias coughed beneath the pressure of Vivid’s boot. “Don’t be so sure yours is welcome,” he managed to choke out with an arrogant grin.
Scorch barely had time to process the sentence before Vivid was taking his blood-slick hand and leading him from the training room with a pace so efficient, they were practically running. In a minute, Vivid was opening the stone door that led to the waterfall.
The roar of the water seemed louder to Scorch than usual, his body sensitive after the almost-change, and Vivid released his hand as they began the slippy descent, taking his elbow in a firm grip instead. Scorch followed obediently, but not unquestioningly.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
Shockingly, Vivid responded. “Someplace private.”
“Oh.”
Vivid looked up at him, grimacing, and let go of Scorch’s elbow once they’d made it down the rocks. He walked on, leading instead of taking, and Scorch kept an easy stride beside him, a smolder of energy still roiling inside with no way of releasing itself.
When they had walked a worn path of pale underbrush and low-hanging branches, Vivid stopped in a wide clearing. It was not, Scorch noted, a natural forest meadow. Rather, it took on the appearance of having once been filled with trees. Roots curled upward and drove back into the earth, befuddled, as if the trees had been ripped away. Or blown away. Scorch side-eyed Vivid.
“Have you taken me out here to kill me?”
“Unnecessary. If I wanted you dead, all I would need to do is leave you on your own for ten minutes. Now shut up and don’t move.”
Scorch settled his arms across his chest, trying to compress the rough-tempered beating of his heart. “Just stand here?”
“And watch me.” Vivid turned from him, and Scorch had no trouble at all watching his body walk across the meadow until he stood at its most central point.
Upon viewing Vivid from such a distance, the memory of the Circle returned like a dream. Vivid had stared at him then like he stared at him now, but while Scorch once wondered the hue of those piercing eyes, he was now familiar with their shade and lashes and lids. He knew the touch of the leather that gleamed in the dappled sunshine, and the scars that hid beneath. Vivid remained a mysterious force before him, but Scorch felt he knew him, just a little.
A flowery smelling breeze wrapped itself around Vivid. It raised the dark strands of hair from his face and floated them about his head. It whipped the dead leaves from the forest floor and sent them on a voyage around his hips. The breeze became a wind as he lifted his palms, and when he tightened them into fists, the wind became a gale. The air swirled around his body, pulling up shreds of grass and clumps of dirt and leaves from the edges of the meadow, thickening Vivid’s cyclone until Scorch could no longer see him within.
Scorch stood, mesmerized, as the vortex swirled and spun in tiny, threatening circles, stretching high in the sky. He was pulled forward by the sheer force of it, his feet scuddering along the ground until he planted his backside in the grass and anchored his fingers. As instructed, he watched, staring at the place Vivid had been, replaced now by a lethal confluence of air.
But Vivid had not been replaced; he had changed.
When the wind finally settled, the debris left a scattered mess about the meadow and Vivid reemerged from his elemental cocoon. He strode for Scorch, who remained seated in the grass, and as he neared, Scorch saw his eyes were a pigment lighter than usual.
Scorch watched his approach with awe stitched into his brow. His pulse was fast and his breath was coming quick.
“You were too easy to knock over,” Vivid complained, and his voice sounded light. He looked down at Scorch and didn’t need to put the request into words before Scorch pulled himself back to his feet.
He longed to say things he shouldn’t, to tell Vivid his elemental form was beautiful, but he just stared dumbly and waited.
Vivid stood before him in a stony silence before reaching out his hand. He plucked something from Scorch’s hair and came away with a small twig, which he let fall between them. “It is possible to be in control,” he said, and Scorch wondered if the lightness in his voice was an effect of the change. If Scorch felt a constant wildfire in his chest, then Vivid must be full of wild gales, pounding against his insides for release. It must be a relief to let it out, to spin and whirl until he was spent. “I summoned the change without the
fuel of angst. You can do the same.”
Scorch scratched at his head and a leaf fluttered free, floating down until it landed in a precarious perch atop Vivid’s shoulder.
“How?” he asked, his gaze entranced by the leather-bound slope.
“By not letting outside forces force out your insides,” Vivid replied.
Tentatively, afraid every inch he would be swatted away, Scorch brought his hand to Vivid’s shoulder and picked the leaf up by its delicate stem.
Vivid—who’d remained silent during the leaf retrieval—glared, and when he spoke again, it was with a deep rumble of irritation. “Don’t let Elias burn you.”
Scorch felt his temperature rise from the name alone. “I don’t like him.”
“Prove to Axum I’m training you well, and you’ll never need to deal with him.” His disapproval intensified. “Nearly lose control again in the middle of the Hollow, and Elias will be your new teacher.”
“I would leave if that happened. I’m only here because of you.”
Vivid’s lips fell open on an exhale, and Scorch’s eyes were drawn to them, like leaves caught up in the wind. The unbidden attention did not go unnoticed, and in the aftermath of a pregnant silence, Vivid took a measured step away and averted his eyes to the trees beyond.
“You’re here to train, and you will begin more vigorous studies when we return to the Hollow.”
Vivid walked past in a hurry, and Scorch followed suit, shaking the image of pink lips from his head. Another leaf fell from his hair.
“Vigorous studies? More vigorous than this?”
“The Guardians’ Guild did you no favors in the teachings of grace and stealth. Those skills must be honed to bear the black of the assassins.”
“I get to wear all that fancy leather, you mean?” Scorch asked, tripping over an upended root a second later.
He heard Vivid sigh and saw his head give a nominal shake. “Not for a while yet.”
Vivid never complained that his hand was sticky with Scorch’s blood, and when they returned to the Hollow, he silently helped him wash the wounds clean.
The Sun Guardian Page 23