Page 15 of Flame and Sparrow

I took a few steps into the hallway, listening closer, fearing I might need to involve myself after all. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d played mediator between this particular group.

Thankfully, they soon quieted down.

I hovered uncertainly in the hallway for a few more moments before going back to my dough, absently forming it into miniature pies that I scooped the apple mixture into.

I’d made this recipe enough that I could do the rest without much thought—crimping the dough, prepping the pan, checking the oven temperature, tending to the ash of the oven’s perfectly-smoldering fire before I set my racks into place and loaded the miniature pastries onto them. The motions were automatic, so the only thing I was fully aware of for a long time was my own heartbeat pounding too loudly in my ears.

It was only after a deep inhale of warm, cinnamon-tinged air that I truly remembered I was cooking.

I threw myself more fully into putting the rest of breakfast together, and soon the space was filled with so many scents and sounds—smoke and spices, oils sizzling and popping in pans—that I was completely immersed and lost to everything else.

I didn’t want to leave my warm cocoon of familiar and predictable things, but a short time later, I made myself do it all the same. With one arm wrapped around a basket of fresh pastries and the other clutching a pitcher of water, I headed toward the others.

The hall had grown silent, but after pushing the door open, I only had to glance at the sullen faces all around the room to know that the argument was far from over.

“You aren’t listening.” Kinnara leaned away from the table between her and Andrel, clasping her elegant fingers together in front of her, almost as if in prayer. Her teeth were bared in a smile, an attempt at civility she wasn’tquitepulling off—partly because of the way the gesture revealed the sharp points of her canines. A cursed feature, like my own claws, that always made her appear far more feral than she actually was.

“There isnothing leftof Merityn,” Kinnara said in a low voice. “The armies of King Eldon razed it to the ground. And they’ve made no secret about what motivated them to do it. Bannerforge, Herst, Gatlin. The incidents there—all of yoursuccesses—have done us far more harm than good.”

Merityn was a small village on the Kingdom of Aromand’s northern border. It was one of the few cities in our kingdom that consisted almost entirely of elven-kind. Or it had been, anyway. And Bannerforge, Herst, Gatlin…those were all places where myself and my allies had recently carried out more demonstrations like the one in Cauldra.

I tightened my grip on the food I carried, my heart once again pounding a ferocious, unsteady rhythm, making it difficult to hear the rest of what was being said. I floated in and out of the conversation for a minute until Cillian’s voice brought me back—a calm and good-natured, matter-of-fact tone among the rising tempers in the room.

“The humans hate us regardless of whether or not we attack their lands and temples,” he said. “It was only a matter of time before they went after Merityn; Eldon has been threatening it for years. What would you have us do to stop that king and his followers from carrying out what they believe is their destiny, sanctioned by the gods themselves?”

Kinnara rose to her feet and began to pace, but otherwise didn’t reply.

The silence settled, thick and uncomfortable, before Andrel’s voice finally cut through it.

“She’d have us hide.” He appeared to be his normal confident self, but there was an edge to his words—like a blade partially unsheathed, threatening violence. “She wants us to cower behind the walls of those prisons they’ve been building in the north.”

I leaned against the doorframe, breathing in the comforting scent of the food I’d made.

The places he spoke of were not truly prisons, but new cities being built for the sole purpose of separating us elves from humans—cities protected by experimental magic some of our kind were developing. Each was its own world within this world, set apart from the ever-expanding human kingdoms.

Cillian and Andrel often called themCowardkeeps, which was a term my sister had originally coined. They considered the ones in favor of such things even worse than the ones who wanted to beg and pray to the gods to take us back.

“The prisonsyou speak of are strongholds that others have labored tirelessly to create,” Kinnara said coolly, “and they offer a strategic point of attack and defense—a much more intelligent strategy than anything you and your rebel friends are attempting.”

There was a murmur of agreement from the ones who’d come with Kinnara, followed by an uneasy shifting as Andrel’s glare swept over them.

“And you honestly believe the humans will leave these places alone?” Andrel laughed a quiet, savage little laugh. “You underestimate their devotion to their gods. They will set fire to every city and fortress we build—and do it happily—to gain more favor from their beloved divine beings.”

Another long silence followed as Kinnara’s dark eyes narrowed on Andrel alone. The shifting in the room stopped.

Everythingseemed to stop.

“Over three-hundred of them.” Kinnara’s voice was like ice cracking on an otherwise silent winter morning.

An even longer, deeper silence followed. She stepped closer to Andrel, moving into a patch of sunlight framed by faded curtains. Ribbons of gold caught on her mouth, highlighting the scars dragging away from the left corner of it. Torture marks from years ago when she’d been captured and refused to give information, I’d heard.

I wondered if there was anyone in this room whodidn’thave scars of some kind thanks to the gods and the ones who blindly served them.

“Three-hundred of our kin slaughtered in Merityn,” Kinnara said. “Do you not care?”

Cillian started forward. “Of course we—”

“Heads on stakes. Bodies defiled and ripped apart. Several of those bodies were hung from the walls of the city itself. Not the first massacre we’ve endured this moon cycle, and doubtless the last. The numbers grow increasingly less in our favor with every passing day. The tides shift, and so too must our tactics.” Another sharp smile, and she pushed out several of her next words through gritted teeth: “The old houses have fallen.Yourhouses have fallen. It’s time to let the plans and beliefs of our ancestors fall away with them and fully embrace new things. New weapons.”

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