Page 182 of Flame and Sparrow

Now I had the same thought—not because I wanted to claw it out of me, but rather because I wanted to trigger something. To feel Dravyn’s magic burning to life in response, to somehow awaken that connection between us. He’d felt my fear and pain in the past. Could he feel it now?

Could Imakehim feel me?

Even if I could, I doubted he would be able to feel how deeply sorry I was for everything that had happened.

I needed to see him. To actually speak to him again. I needed to get back to him, somehow, if only to apologize and warn him of Andrel’s plans.

I curled tighter into myself, still fighting against the urge to collapse under the impossible weight of the tasks before me.

My eyes flashed open at the sound of tapping against glass.

Moth was on the other side of the window, his head cocked and his bright, owlish eyes staring at me.

“You came back,” I whispered, voice breaking slightly.

He latched more tightly onto the window ledge and started to headbutt the glass harder than before—more of a pounding than a tapping—and the edges of the opening I’d cut began to buckle and crack.

The sight of him was still painful, just as it had been when I’d encountered him near the river. But he had come back to me, despite the things I’d said and done.

And the mark on my wrist was still burning faintly, a fire that even all my mistakes had not managed to put out.

I splayed my fingers against the glass, tapping lightly to get Moth’s attention.

He stopped assaulting the window and pressed his forehead to it.

“You’re being too loud,” I warned.

He huffed.

“I can’t go out this window,” I told him. “I don’t have wings like you, and I’m in no condition to climb down as quickly as I need to.”

He narrowed his gaze on the cracked glass. Afraid he was going to keep attacking it until it shattered—a move that certainly wouldn’t go unnoticed by my captors—I cast a nervous glance around the rest of the room, searching for alternative ways to let him in. I considered the fireplace behind me for a moment before gesturing toward it and then pointing him upwards, hoping he would understand what I was trying to tell him.

His head tilted from side to side a few times as he puzzled it out. Then he gave an excited chirp, flipped backwards off the ledge, and shot up and out of sight.

I held my breath until I heard a clattering in the chimney a minute later.

He descended into the room in a cloud of dust and cobwebs, bouncing off the stone hearth, tumbling and stumbling for a few steps before he managed to orient himself and bound over to me.

He sneezed and sputtered a few times as he breathed in the foul, tainted air of the room, but otherwise it didn’t seem to have much of an effect on him, thankfully.

His leap into my arms was as uncoordinated but enthusiastic as ever. My body still felt weak, but I embraced him tightly, tears and apologies both flowing freely.

He settled in my lap, taking a moment to preen his feathers and clear the last cobwebs from them before looking up at me. Expectantly.

“You seem to think I have a plan,” I whispered wryly.

He yawned and made himself more comfortable, apparently content to wait for me to come up with one—a rare show of patience from him.

As the minutes passed, however, we heard more and more people passing in the hallway outside. And with every new voice, Moth grew increasingly restless.

“We have to be calm about this,” I told him. “Quiet. Smart.”

He started to pull one of his dramatic flops in response, but I brought a finger to my lips, shushing him.

An instant later, I heard Andrel’s voice rising above the others.

Moth cocked his head toward the door, a soft growl rising in his throat.

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