Free Skyfire by Skye Melki-Wegner Page B

forward, his hands raised.
    I turn.
    When he sees my tattoo – the moon, the stars, the swirls of darkness – a slow hiss escapes his teeth. ‘Night,’ he whispers. ‘A temporal proclivity.’
    â€˜No! It’s not –’
    â€˜It isn’t Night? Then what else could it –’
    I cut him off. ‘Darkness! My proclivity’s Darkness. It’s not temporal – it works all the time. Nothing to do with the time of day.’
    â€˜Darkness?’
    I swallow hard, my throat painfully tight. ‘I swear it’s not temporal. The moon and stars are just symbols of the dark.’
    â€˜It’s true!’ Lukas says.
    â€˜I’ve seen it too,’ Clementine pipes up. ‘I’ve seen her use it – it’s definitely Darkness, there’s nothing temporal about it. She used it all the time when we were … um …’
    â€˜Back in Rourton!’ Teddy says, always ready with a lie. ‘Any time of day, I swear, she’d just melt into the shadows to sneak up on the guards. Should’ve seen their faces when she popped out of an alleyway wall – just about carked it from shock, I reckon.’
    Teddy tries to maintain his confident smile, but it slips with every passing second.
    Bastian stares at me. I watch the emotions cross his face. The distrust. The uncertainty. ‘Perhaps I believe that,’ he says slowly. ‘Or perhaps not. But tomorrow will show the truth. If your power’s really Darkness, you’ll be able to prove it in the morning. Won’t you?’
    I force a nod.
    â€˜Good,’ Bastian says. ‘I’ll send your dinner shortly.’
    The door swings shut behind him.
    I drop my head into my hands. This is bad. The magic of my Night proclivity will only last untildawn. But tomorrow morning, the Víndurnics will want a demonstration. They’ll want proof that my power is ethereal, not temporal. Proof that I’m not a threat.
    And all I can picture is Tindra, dead and bloody under the morning sky.

‘All right,’ Teddy says. ‘We nick off now, while it’s dark. I reckon we could make it halfway across the country before the sun comes up.’
    â€˜And go where?’ Clementine throws open the curtains and peers into the night. ‘We’ve given up everything to reach this place! We’ll just have to paint over Danika’s tattoo, disguise it somehow –’
    â€˜How’s that gonna help?’ Teddy snaps. ‘Bastian’s already seen the damn thing. Our only hope is to scarper while it’s dark. Wish I hadn’t given him that firestone thing – I bet we could’ve flogged it to some other village on the road …’
    I sit in silence as the argument rolls around me. My head throbs. My bones ache. They can argue all they like, but I won’t let them risk their lives for me.
    This village is a place of refuge. If we flee, we’ll be out on the road again, and with King Morrigan’s hunter on our trail. Where would we run? North, south? Even further east? We’ve no idea what lies beyond the borders of Víndurn. I can’t drag my friends on such a hopeless journey.
    Besides, this is their chance to be safe. I picture Teddy growing old here. Laughing around a cooking fire, raising squirming children and grandchildren on his knees. I think of the twins, safe and content in their quiet new lives. And Lukas upon a foxhawk, soaring beneath a starlit sky …
    Yes. My friends could be happy here. But not me. When they test me at dawn – when they find out my proclivity stops working as soon as the sun rises – it’ll all be over. A bullet to the back of the neck, most likely. Right through my Night tattoo.
    I must leave alone. Tonight. I’ll wait until my friends fall asleep, then I’ll strike out into the wilderness. Out beyond the boiling craters and scraggly forests. All the way to … what?
    A cold