Page 158 of Flame and Sparrow

“From a distance. We never really speak, however. Not since I ascended.”

“Really? Never?” The thought caused an odd ache in the pit of my stomach. “Do they know what’s become of you?”

“They…yes. They know.”

“Is it against the rules for you to speak to them or something?”

He shook his head. “Not any rules I’m aware of. But my older brother and I never really saw eye to eye about…well, most things. And what I’ve become—the things I’ve done—only complicate our relationship. So I go back periodically to make sure they’re still in one piece, but I avoid interacting with them as much as possible.”

I frowned, the aching pit in my stomach widening, and he gave a humorless chuckle in response.

“I’m a coward, I know.”

“I don’t think you’re a coward.” I stopped picking at the flowering vine and leaned against the wall in front of him, folding my arms around myself and lifting my gaze to the starless sky. “It would be hard to go back to the past, I believe, after you’ve changed so…dramatically.”

I didn’t elaborate on why I believed this; I didn’t think I needed to, and he didn’t press the subject. Instead, his gaze fell to the bandage wrapped around my forearm. Just barely peeking out from beneath the sleeve of my cloak, yet he still noticed it.

“Never mind me,” he said. “What about you? Are you all right?”

“This? It’s nothing. I got too bold handling the selakir, that’s all.” I fidgeted with the bandage, forcing myself to meet his concerned gaze. “You warned me about Zell’s teeth. I simply insist on learning things the hard way sometimes. Most of the time, actually.”

He chuckled softly at this part, while I averted my eyes. I hated speaking yet another lie between us, even if it was a necessary one to keep the peace.

I pulled the sleeve of my cloak down and lost myself in thought for a moment, walking the garden paths, kneeling to study the more interesting plants I came across.

Dravyn named each one I asked about, telling me how they’d been created, whether they had similar counterparts in the mortal realm, and all about the magical properties that set some of them apart. Some were precise creations of his, while others had been part of the general shaping of this realm when the upper-gods laid their hands and magic upon it.

The conversation eventually shifted entirely to things we’d shaped ourselves—things we’d loved and lost and left behind, things we still held tightly to. We mostly avoided saying anything more about our families, but there were plenty of other things to learn about one another.

We spent at least an hour trading stories and occasional smiles until the sky had deepened to the color of an overripe plum, while the palace grew darker and quieter behind us.

At some point while we were talking, I lost my grip on whatever scraps were left of my rage, letting them float off into the ether until all that remained was a deeper, more nuanced kind of anger—one directed inward rather than outward. It was anger at a younger, more foolish me. One so blinded by hate and a desire to fill the empty spaces my sister had left that I’d never really stopped to question what I was filling those spaces with.

I still didn’t know how to fix all the hollow places inside of me.

I just knew I didn’t want to be angry any longer.

So where did that leave me?

Where did that leaveus?

Our conversation trailed off, and I wandered through the flowers some more before settling in front of him again, the small of my back pressing against the wall, my hands close enough to reach out and take his—though I kept them fisted in front of me for the moment.

“You look terrible, by the way. For a god.” I offered him a small smile. “Your kind have little need for sleep, you told me, but your face suggests otherwise.”

He shrugged. “No rest takes its toll, eventually. Even on me.” After a pause, he added, “And I haven’t slept since the night I had you beside me.” It sounded like a confession, soft and intimate.

“Why not?”

He said nothing to this, but the answer was evident enough in the look he gave me.

Can’t you guess?

I could. I suppose I just wanted to hear him say it out loud—which he eventually did.

He took my hand, absently running his thumb along my palm as he said, “I fell asleep with you in my arms, woke up the same way, and now everything else feels unbalanced in comparison. You’ve ruined me, I’m afraid, and it’s obvious to anyone paying attention—Valas won’t shut the fuck up about it. He’s been even more insufferable than usual.”

I felt a blush warming my cheeks. “I haven’t slept well lately, either.” My lips parted. Closed. Wouldn’t open again. There was more I’d planned to say. More Ineededto say. To admit to.

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