Page 112 of Flame and Sparrow

I wanted to go back to the days when these things—and the uncertain flutterings they caused—were my biggest questions. So I tried to; I tucked the knife into the sheath hidden beneath my shirt, and I took his hand and let him lead me across the yard, past the overgrown gardens scattered full of wild flowers, down the winding stone path that ran along the tumbledown fence.

I knew this path well. Knew where it ended—in the old guesthouse at the edge of the property, on the mattress that smelled faintly of dust and vanilla, where we’d given ourselves completely to one another on several different occasions. He hadn’t been my first, just the first one that had mattered, and each encounter was stilla fond memory.

But suddenly I wasn’t sure I wanted to recreate any of those memories tonight.

My world was no longer spinning as we walked along. A sense of numbness had taken the place of the twisting, the unsteadiness. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

Andrel must have read the lack of feeling in my silence, the hesitation in my step, because he slowed to a stop as the guesthouse came into view. “Is something wrong?”

I fumbled for an excuse and ended up giving him the same one I kept giving Cillian. “Still tired from my travels, I think.”

His brows knitted together in concern as he took hold of my other hand and pulled me into a slow, gentle kiss.

Again, no nervous flutterings came from his touch or his kiss.Nothingcame from these things. And I couldn’t help but compare it to the kiss I’d shared with Dravyn, the way the god’s lips barely whispering against mine had made every inch of me feel alive and hungry for more.

I gave my head a little shake, trying to chase the images of the God of Fire from my mind. “We should probably get back to the house,” I said, stepping away. “There are too many people waiting on me; we didn’t really have time for this little excursion, anyway.”

He studied me for a long moment before his concern gave way to another smile as he said, “We’ll save it for another evening, then.” His voice was quieter. Inching toward anger, I thought for an instant—but no. I was simply overwhelmed, worried about too many things and imagining problems that weren’t really there.

We walked in silence back toward the house until we passed the gardens once more, at which point he said, “You haven’t really seemed like yourself since you returned, Kare. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“What exactly did they do to you in that divine realm?” He seemed to be teasing at first—until I didn’t answer him and kept walking, trying to keep my face angled so he couldn’t see it. He cut in front of me, then, forcing me to meet his gaze.

All the amusement in his eyes had vanished.

“Karys? What did they do?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” I said, pushing past him.

I felt him staring hard at my retreating back. “It doesn’t feel like you’ve handled it.”

I kept walking. I wanted to walk by the entire mansion, to sprint across the fields and into the forest beyond…but I couldn’t. I was expected inside. Expected to lead, to reassure, to play this role I’d convinced myself I was meant for. I walked faster at the thought, as if I could outrun all of the doubts trying to creep into my head.

“Can we at least talk for a moment?” Andrel asked, jogging after me again. “Please?”

I slowed so he could catch up. I didn’t want to talk, but I felt like I had with Cillian days ago—I couldn’t stand the thought of letting him down.

So I stopped, and I tried to put all of my messy thoughts into words for him.

“I just…I’ve learned so much after spending so much time among the gods. I haven’t been purposely keeping anything from you and Cillian, but I don’t think I’ve managed to explain it all properly, either. And now everything feels like it’s moving so fast. All these weapons, and all these people gathering to speak with me about them…”

“You don’t think those weapons are a good thing?”

“It’s not that. I do. I mean…I think I do, I just…I just wonder if we should slow down and more fully consider what effect such things will have on the realms in the long run.”

He ran a hand along his jaw, as if considering—though the smirk he wore told me he’d already made up his mind about this. “The only effect I care about is how quickly one of our poison blades can wither a god’s life-force,” he said.

“I know.” I took a deep breath. “But…what if notallof them deserve to be poisoned?”

I realized, instantly, that I had said the wrong thing.

His amused expression returned, but there was no brightness in it this time. It was strangely, terrifyingly cold. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not saying we should worship them as the humans do, but—”

“No?”

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