Page 176 of Flame and Sparrow

I imagined it, though I didn’t want to—a much smaller version of him, scared and alone, huddling behind the stone until the sounds of our enemies faded away and it was safe to come out. Thoughsafewas always a relative term for us.

We had rarely been safe, even when we were all together; how much worse had it been before Cillian and our other allies found him? Before they helped him rebuild and breathe life back into the mansion?

How much time had he spent alone in the darkness?

It didn’t excuse anything he’d done. Yet I still found myself wanting to know, as if better understanding how all his sharp and rough edges had been formed might lessen their sting when they cut into me.

I leaned forward in my chair, head bowed in thought for a moment before I remembered why I had come here, and I finally found my voice.

“I wanted to apologize,” I said. “I don’t know what came over me the other day. The divine realm was not at all like I expected, and I guess I got caught up in the magic and trickery of it. But you were right, of course—my place is here among our kind.” I kept my head low, avoiding his gaze as I sensed it swivel in my direction.

After a thoughtful pause, he said, “Weaker minds than yours have been persuaded of worse things by the damnable gods.”

“I know that,” I replied, inflecting just the right amount of righteous anger into my voice. “I knew that going into things, too, and I don’t know how I let them make me forget it, but I hate them even more because of it.”

I’d lived with that hatred for so long that I still managed to call it up with little effort, even now—even as I was trying to move on from it—like an actress recalling lines from a long ago play.

Andrel studied me for a long time after the lines were recited, saying nothing.

I lifted a glare toward him and let fury shake my voice a bit more as I said, “If you don’t trust me anymore, then so be it. I will find some way to continue seeking vengeance against the gods with or without your help.”

With that I stood, letting my claws unleash, only to draw them back, clenching my hands into fists as I paced the room.

So many times, I had walked this same walk of barely-suppressed rage while in his presence, talking of revenge and impossible plots with him. So many times, I’d let him feed off my simmering violence, not realizing he was nothing more than a parasite trying to drain its host.

It made my skin itch and sweat, stepping back into this old version of myself, but I continued to play the part, trying to drag him into a sense of security, like everything was back to normal between us.

It eventually worked.

I carried on with my act until he finally chuckled and let a slow, approving smile spread across his face.

“There she is,” he murmured. “I’ve missed this vicious version of you.” He trailed his fingers down the wolf’s neck, tapping along the waves of its fur, and the door swung shut once more. He stayed by the fireplace, leaning against the wall beside it, watching me closely as I returned to my chair and sank down into its dusty cushions.

“You mentioned we had things to do a few days ago, when I first returned here,” I reminded him, voice still tight with anger—as were my fists. “I want to help with those things in any way I can.”

He considered my offer for a moment before he said, “You already have.”

“…I have?”

“The bracelet that broke during our last argument…do you have any idea how much magic was contained within its beads?”

My fists unclenched, fingers digging into the armrests to hold myself still. I couldn’t show my fear.

Whatever I did,I couldn’t show my fear.

“It held the power to let you return to the divine realm, didn’t it?” he continued. “Each bead was like a tiny, concentrated version of the Gatterlen lights that first led you into the Marr’s territory months ago—or that was Cillian’s conclusion, anyway. He collected the shattered glass, realized the immense power it held, managed to extract some of said power…”

“And helped turn it into another weapon like the knife he showed me?” I guessed, somehow making my voice sound curious rather than terrified.

“Exactly,” Andrel confirmed. “And our allies used it, along with a few other things, to create a sort of bomb capable of diffusing a negating energy over a relatively large space—an energy that had an interesting effect on the veil between this realm and the middle-heavens. It nearly made that veil collapse in on itself.”

I held tighter to the chair as the smile dancing in his eyes nearly made me recoil.

“Next time,” he said, in a voice dripping with dark promise, “we’ll finish the job.”

The attacks on the barrier.

Was this why they had gotten worse—stronger—soon after I returned to the middle-heavens?

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