Page 59 of Spark of the Everflame

With each hit of our blades, I felt my temper rise, my movements turning increasingly sloppy. I knew better than to bring anger into combat, but I couldn’t seem to stop it. Ever since giving up the flameroot, my emotions had become an out-of-control firestorm, threatening to char everything in its path.

The butt of his hilt came down on my wrist, carefully aimed to strike a sensitive nerve. Searing pain rocketed up my arm, and my fingers loosened against my will. My blade thumped to the peaty soil.

“Tell me,” he pressed again.

My resolve fractured.

“How did you stand it?” I snapped. “When you were in the army, how did you stomach serving the Descended?”

It was a question I’d never had the guts to ask him.

Others had. Most in Mortal City considered him a hero, or at least a seasoned warrior deserving of respect, but a few had accused him of being a traitor to his kind. His calm temperament usually paid it no mind, though the occasional heckler had earned a fist to the mouth—from him or from me.

His expression went icy. His eyes darted to my fallen weapon, then back to me—a wordless order. I scowled and snatched the sword from the ground.

“I didn’t serve them,” he said as we resumed circling each other. “I served Emarion. All of its people, mortal and Descended.”

“But you took their orders. You fought the rebels.”

“And I fought Descended at times, as well. My vow was to protect Emarion from any enemy it faced, no matter what blood ran through their veins. And I would do it again, without question.”

I paused and lowered my sword. “But who decides who’s an enemy?”

“The Crowns do.”

“And what if the Crowns are the real enemy?”

“Careful, Diem.” His severe tone matched his features. “You speak of treason.”

My eyes rolled. “Was it not treason to the people of Emarion when they came in and took over our cities and our holy sites? When they cut down the Everflame? When they started slaughtering children for being born to mixed parents?”

He stabbed his blade into the marshy ground, then folded his arms. “Where is this coming from? You never cared about such things before.”

His words felt like a blow.

“Of course I cared,” I shot back defensively, but the truth chewed away at me.

I’d cared. But I’d cared in the ways that affectedme. I’d cared when I or the people I knew suffered, when the injustices inflicted by the Descended were forced into my path, disrupting my happy little bubble. And now, I was finally starting to look beyond the oily rainbow prism of that bubble’s edge to the reality of the world beyond.

“These lessons I’ve taught you out here, about fighting and facing opponents...” He trailed off, gesturing to the blade in front of him. “Strength wins, Diem. Strength endures. The Descended have strength on their side, and they always will. Ignoring that will only get you killed.”

“So we should surrender and accept it? You didn’t raise me to do that.”

“No, I didn’t. But what have I taught you about fighting an opponent that’s much stronger than you are?”

I sighed. Years of his lessons flowed mechanically from my lips. “If you cannot be stronger, be smarter.Choose both your battles and your enemies with care. Know when to flee a fight to win a war.”

“That’s exactly right.” He came closer and laid his hands on my shoulders. “Those lessons are as true off the battlefield as they are on it. Don’t you ever forget that.”

His dark umber eyes poured into mine, concern hiding behind his gruff expression. For all his bravery, I knew the reality of sending his children out into this wretched world terrified him. The sparring and the lessons and the memorable one-liners had been as much about managing his own trepidation as preparing us for the battles he couldn’t fight at our side.

“What if I don’t want to sit back and do nothing anymore?” I said. “What if I want to fight back?”

He cupped my face in his hands, his skin rough against my jaw. “I cannot tell you what to do with your life, my darling Diem. But whatever you choose—be smart. And above all,survive. Your life is far too precious to me to be wasted.”

I sighed and kissed his cheek, the wiry hairs of his greying beard tickling my face. “Love you, Commander.”

His shoulders shook with laughter. “Love you too, soldier.”

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