Page 163 of Flame and Sparrow

He yawned, unraveling from me and sitting up and stretching. “Forever trying to map things out, aren’t you?”

“You know I can’t help myself.” I sat up as well so that I could look him in the eyes. “Where did it start for you?”

He considered the question for several moments, taking my hand and absently threading his fingers in and out of mine. “The day we met. The first time we spoke.”

“Really?”

Another long pause, then, “That day…I could smell the fear on you. The blood. You could have given in—most in your position would have, I think—yet you stood in the rising flames like you still intended to set the world on fire, rather than letting it burn you down.”

“And that was it for you, hm?” My smile was skeptical. “You really fell for that?”

“Wildfire…” He lifted my hand and planted a soft kiss on my knuckles. “I don’t think I ever stood a chance.”

* * *

Another hour—maybemore—passed in a blur of whispered conversation and quiet laughter. There was no one out here to overhear us, yet my voice stayed soft, and his mirrored it.

Whatever this was that was happening between us, I didn’t want to share it with the rest of the world yet. I didn’t want it to have to compete with all the noise outside of us.

We eventually agreed that we had to return to his palace, however, and we slowly gathered ourselves and reluctantly started back.

As we stepped once more into the gilded halls, our quiet conversation drifted to a stop, and Dravyn’s hand tightened around mine.

Before I could ask what was wrong, I sensed it for myself: horribly cold energy, accompanied by a damp scent of mud and leaves—like a freshly dug grave.

The God of Death was here.

Chapter44

Zachar cameinto view a moment later, rounding the corner just ahead of us.

Dravyn’s demeanor immediately shifted at the sight of him, all his softness and vulnerability disappearing in a flare of heat and power as he strode ahead of me, intercepting the Death Marr, fire spiraling to life around his hands.

“Why are you here, Zachar?”

“Perhaps you should ask your companion?” the God of Death answered, coolly, in a voice that sent chills skipping through me.

I saw the muscles in Dravyn’s arms twitching, and for a moment I worried he might wrap one of his fiery hands around the God of Death’s throat, or else set the entire corridor ablaze—or both at the same time.

Then he clenched his fists, extinguishing the flames, and in a much more diplomatic—but still biting—tone he said, “I am askingyou.”

The Death Marr’s black-abyss eyes shifted toward me. Despite the distance between us, I couldn’t help stumbling back, desperate to put as much space between myself and him as possible.

Then he said, “She’s blinded you to her scheming, you fool.”

I froze.

Dravyn’s gaze darted between me and the Death Marr, the impatience burning in them now darkened by confusion. A dangerous combination—though Zachar didn’t seem to notice the danger he was in; his voice remained chillingly even.

“My shadows uncovered proof of her plans in the room she’s been staying in.”

“You sent your magic after me?” I stammered. “Into my room?”Thatwas what I’d felt before I fell asleep. The shapeshifting darkness…I hadn’t been imagining it.

Dravyn took one look at the fear and disgust on my face and his power flared again, making the sconces along the wall flicker and extinguish as he stepped closer to Zachar. “You dare slip your shadows into my palace? Intoher? I warned you there would be consequences for attacking her mind, and now you’ve done it here, of all places?”

“I hardly glimpsed anything of her mind,” Zachar said with a restless, popping roll of his bony shoulders. “I brokenothing. I needed to see no more than the surface of her thoughts to understand the fullness of her deceit.”

Dravyn moved as if to attack, but in the same instant I finally found the courage to move, darting forward and wrapping my arms around his body.

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