A Beautiful Dark

small flame bloomed between my palms. It didn’t hurt—all I could feel was a gentle warmth as the flames licked my fingers, circulation returning to them. The whole snow cave filled with a soft orange glow, firelight flickering shadows on the walls like they were telling a story.
    I was holding fire in the palm of my hand.
    “Asher?” My voice was getting higher, my heart beating much too fast. “How are you doing this?”
    “If I told you, it would ruin the fun,” he said, and even though he was behind me, I could tell he was smiling. “A magician never gives away his secrets.”
    “What is it with you and secrets?”
    The flame flickered in my hand, and then flared up, toward the ceiling. When it died out, a circle of snow had melted, exposing the sky above.
    “Whoa.” Asher whistled softly to himself. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” He pulled away, inching around so that he was facing me again. His eyebrows were scrunched together in confusion. “I’m usually better at controlling that. I don’t know why . . .” He looked at me. He put his hand on my cheek. His fingers were still warm, and my shivering quieted.
    “Look,” he said. “About last night.”
    I sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”
    “No, listen. You were right—I have been trying to get your attention. But not for the reason you think.”
    “Okay,” I said dubiously. “Then why?”
    He smiled warmly, running his thumb softly over my cheekbone.
    “Skye,” he murmured. “It’s . . . complicated.”
    “I don’t understand,” I said, the words sounding stuck in my throat. I was vaguely aware that he’d used this line before, but I was slipping off into sleep and couldn’t focus.
    “Listen, we don’t have to decide the fate of the world right this minute.” He cupped his hand under my head as it came to rest against his shoulder. “Skye, can you stay awake for me? Talk to me. Keep yourself talking.”
    “What should I say?” I was so drowsy.
    “Say anything. Say what you’re thinking about right now.”
    I don’t know why I was thinking about this, but the words came tumbling out of my mouth before I had a chance to second-guess myself. “My parents died,” I said hazily, the fog wrapping itself around my head again. “In a car accident. When I was six.” I yawned.
    “I’m sorry,” Asher said softly, positioning himself next to me. I felt him take my hand in his. It was warm. I moved myself so that I was leaning against him, burying my head in his warmth. I could feel his breath rising and falling.
    “I don’t really remember the accident very well. I don’t know why I survived and they didn’t.” It felt good to talk about it. I never talked about that with anyone. “I could have died.” I didn’t like the way it sounded out loud.
    He brushed the hair away from my face. “But you didn’t. Don’t worry, okay? Help will come.”
    I could feel myself growing heavier, the world darker again. I almost thought I could feel the feathery touch of his lips on my forehead.
    Almost.

Chapter 13

    I opened my eyes again in a much different kind of place.
    The walls were just walls, about as opaque as walls can get, and I was toasty warm beneath the wool camp-style blanket draped over me. I wore flannel pajamas that I didn’t recognize, and I was lying on my back in a narrow bed. I was, it appeared, in the ski lodge infirmary. A place noticeably lacking in magic. On the ceiling above me, the various cracks and watermarks had been whitewashed over not very adeptly with a coat of paint. I felt okay—much better than earlier—except for the shooting pain in my ankle.
    Had I really just been trapped in a makeshift snow cave with Asher? And had he really created . . . fire? Out of thin air? I felt like I was waking up from a vivid dream and confronting the harsh light of the real world. For all I knew, I was.
    Where was Asher now? Feeling stiff and immobile in the infirmary bed, I turned my head on the pillow, hoping he’d be sitting there beside me, waiting to tell me that what I had seen was only my imagination. Or at least explain the neat trick and how he’d hidden the lighter.
    Instead my eyes landed on Devin. He was sitting in a chair pushed up against the wall, staring out the window to the slopes beyond. He wasn’t looking at me.
    “What are you doing here?” I asked, confused. “Where’s Asher?”
    Devin turned to me, his expression placid. “You’re