Page 121 of Flame and Sparrow

I could only guess at the reason behind the delay, but—whatever the reason—I was grateful to have more time to figure out what my next moves would be.

I was meandering around the vast palace grounds, trying to commit to evenonedefinite, precise next step, when I caught sight of one of the selakir—those golden, horse-like creatures I’d first seen weeks ago. It was galloping at full speed toward the palace, pale ribbons of fire trailing out behind it as it flew.

I watched as it disappeared behind the palace, hurtling into a fenced-in area that I was fairly certain was a dead-end. Curious about what was drawing such a wild creature in, I followed the flower-lined stone path that ran along the palace’s edge, pausing at the corner and peering into the back yard.

At the end of the path, some ten feet ahead, several more of the selakir were gathered around Dravyn. He was busy brushing down one of the largest of the herd, making it gleam like polished gold.

Up close, I realized just how massive the beasts were; even the smallest ones were as large as the largest horses back home. Though they still reminded me of horses, even from here, there were subtle differences; the longer, leaner bodies; the small, antler-like appendages; the cloven hooves. And the color, of course.Goldseemed an inadequate name for all the different shades their coats shimmered between.

I was so mesmerized by the creatures that several minutes passed—easily the longest amount of time I’d spent near Dravyn for the past week.

“I was beginning to wonder if we’d ever share another space for more than a few seconds,” he finally commented, his eyes on his fingers, which were busy untangling strands of silky white mane. “Seems one of us is always running the other direction here lately.”

“I haven’t been running away from anything.” A week’s worth of frustration and uncertainty made my tone sharper than normal.

He regarded me with a frown. “Put your daggers away, my Sparrow. You’re not on trial at the moment. And everything I do and say is not meant to start an argument with you.”

He went back to tending to the golden beast.

I stood watching him for a while longer, trying to decide what to do next. What to say. I didn’t want to keep avoiding him. I didn’t really want to fight, either—I just wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do instead.

His words had plucked a long-buried truth from the dark and guarded places of my heart, and since I didn’t know what else to say, I quietly admitted this truth to him: “I don’t know how to put them away.”

He stopped mid-brushstroke and looked over at me.

“What I mean to say is it’s just…it’s a habit. Always being prepared to fight.” I slowly walked closer, gaze circling around, noting each of the six selakir who’d gathered here. Most of the beasts watched me with indifference—though the smallest one did take a few cautious steps after me as I passed it, lifting its long nose and inhaling my scent.

Its shining black eyes met mine, and I stared into them even as I continued to explain myself to Dravyn. “I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for a long time. For the past five years, at least—just waiting for the next attack against me and my kind. I don’t know how to put down my weapons and stop fighting. I don’t think I know who I am outside of the fight.”

After a moment of considering this, he said, “The past five years?”

I hesitated.

The selakir I’d been staring at pranced closer, and I tentatively reached out a hand and let it examine me more closely. Its breath was hot against my skin—almost burning. I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn it could breathe fire. Luckily, it didn’t seem to be in the mood to do so at the moment; its silky tail swished—wagging like a dog’s—and its nose shoved and snorted against my arm, the playful force of it almost knocking me over.

Something about the creature’s accepting nudges gave me the courage to keep speaking. “My sister… she died a little over five years ago. I’m the one who found her blood-covered room. And the dead veilhound at our house weeks before—a harbinger of her death, I think. Even before that, I was always on guard. We were once one of the most powerful elven houses in Avalinth, and both my father and sister were leaders in the movement to try and restore that power. So we had no shortage of enemies.”

Thinking of all those enemies—and all the violent, close calls I’d had throughout my childhood—I had to pause and take a deep, bracing breath before continuing.

“They were always heading off on missions to try and undermine the rising human leaders and the gods those humans now worship. And I wanted to be with them, so I followed them as much as I could as I got older.”

Dravyn was quiet for another long moment, then asked, “You wanted to be with them?”

“Of course.”

“But did you want to belikethem?”

The question felt like another chisel carving away at the protective walls I’d erected around my heart. It took everything in me not to recoil, to answer it honestly.

“I’m not sure. I never really felt like Savna. Though when she died, I….” I trailed off, absently running my hands along the selakir’s smooth coat. “Put down your daggers,you said. But honestly,sometimes I’m not sure if the blades I’m carrying are hers or mine. And if they’re hers, I feel like I…”

Like I can’t put them down.

I couldn’t bring myself to admit to this final part out loud, for some reason. I closed my eyes against the memories flooding me and tried to choke down the emotion bubbling up in my chest. I’d broken down enough over the past week. I was determined not to do it now. I clenched my fingers more deeply into the selakir’s side than I meant to, trying to steady myself against it, and the creature gave a snort and stomped off, leaving a few golden threads of its coat in my palm as it pulled away.

Dravyn made a sharp clicking sound with his tongue, and the disgruntled selakir trotted over to him. He worked on soothing it for a minute before he said, “Sometimes we hold on to painful things, I think, because letting them go feels like letting go of the person who gave them to us.”

I lifted my gaze from the flowers I’d been studying, and I was surprised to find him staring back at me with a look that bordered on gentle—an expression I didn’t recall ever seeing in his eyes before. It was hard to believe these were the same eyes I’d recently witnessed burning with hellish, terrifying fire.

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