Iylaine burns and is burned

There was a man standing between her and the dying fire, a dark silhouette of a tall man in a cloak, moving silently.

“Da?” she quavered. But it could not have been her Da. She would not have been so terrified of her Da.

A dark hand came down over her mouth and nose, and the man crawled onto the bed, one knee on either side of her body, pressing the blankets down upon her and trapping her against the bed.

Her heart throbbed so wildly that it seemed to be the cause of her body’s reflexive quaking. She could not breathe.

The man lifted the hand away from her mouth and pinched her nose. She gasped gratefully at the air, but he immediately stuffed a piece of sacking into her mouth. She tried to toss her head, but he stuffed the rag past her tongue and into her throat, and she gagged painfully. The rough cloth against her teeth, the dryness of it against her tongue and the damp curl of it in her throat—

She could not cry out, but he released her nose. She could feel the air she breathed pass through the cloth in her throat, and it made her gag again.

He stood and yanked the blankets away. She tried to scramble away from him, but he threw his body against her to stop her.

His cloak reeked of horses and cattle, and though she was unnaturally strong for a little girl, and though she had the additional strength of wild terror, he was a man who had the habit of struggling with creatures stronger than he. That, and the expert way he wielded the rope with which he was tying her ankles together, showed her that he was some sort of groom, or someone who worked with great beasts.

The rough rope tore at her bare skin as she fought, and she remembered how the people called that feeling burning. This was how she knew how fire felt to others who were not elves. The rope burned her ankles—so they would say.

The sackcloth grew suddenly crisp and crumbled into ashes upon her tongue. She exhaled a great gust of flame, and again she could breathe. For the instant the cloth burned, the man’s face was clearly illuminated, red and monstrous and wide-​eyed with shock and terror.

The rope around her ankles flared up and disintegrated, releasing her. The fire scurried up its length along the two dangling ends, into his hands, and he screamed once before his cloak burst into flame. He danced a moment in agony and then fell against the bed, lighting the bedclothes.

Iylaine let herself fall back onto the bed in relief. The fire washed over her, cleansing her of ropes and rags and the touch of evil hands.