Page 184 of Flame and Sparrow

He started to laugh again.

I cut him off by unleashing my claws, digging them into his throat. As the first drops of blood slid over his skin, all the amusement in his eyes disappeared in a flash of mad fury.

His hands shot toward my sides, digging in with a powerful grip as he rolled over, throwing me off balance before kicking me the rest of the way off of him.

I scrambled to put more space between us before stumbling to my feet. I was still more sluggish than usual after my poison-filled night; I saw his fist coming after me, but I only partially managed to twist away from the blow.

He struck me in the chest, knocking me back toward the chair he’d been sitting in yesterday. The corner of the iron side-table jabbed into my shoulder, causing a jarring, tingling pain to shoot through my entire right side.

I grabbed the table with my left hand and flung it at him.

He knocked it aside and continued to advance on me.

My eyes darted toward the hallway; I needed to escape before the sound of our battle drew more attention.

I tried to sprint toward the door.

He caught one of my arms. I briefly panicked, reliving the shock and pain of the first time he’d grabbed me like this—

But this would not be a repeat of last time.

His hands were stronger, but mine were sharper.

As he tried to wrestle me into his hold and slam me against the wall next to the fireplace, I managed to swing one last upward swipe toward his face. My claws struck skin, dragging bloody streaks across it. He roared in pain. His hold on me faltered. I still hit the wall hard as he let me go, but not nearly as hard as he’d intended.

Moth was there in the next instant, shooting out of the fireplace with a wild screech. His wings were already pure fire. As he twisted and tumbled toward Andrel, the rest of him ignited as well.

He collided with Andrel’s chest. Andrel fell back into the chair, flames surrounding him. The rug beneath that chair caught fire, followed by the threadbare cushions, and while he was busy trying to put the fires out, I called Moth to my side and darted for the door.

“Where are you going to go, Karys?” Andrel’s sudden voice stabbed through me like a knife into my back.

I should have kept running—I didn’t owe him any answers—but I couldn’t help pausing in the doorway, bracing a hand against the frame as I caught my breath and glanced over my shoulder.

He had stomped the fire out of the rug, thrown a blanket over the chair. He stared at me through rising smoke, blood streaming down his face, looking every bit like the dark, terrifying creature I now knew him to be.

“It’s already begun,” he said, voice chillingly calm. “We were so close to breaking our way in just days ago—the final blow is coming soon. We will breach the heavens and bring them crashing down, and if you want to run back to your precious gods, go ahead. You can crash and burn with them for all I care.”

I glared back at him, and in a voice as cold and dark as his, I said, “We’ll see which one of us ends up burning in the end.”

I heard footsteps approaching from the stairs at the end of the hall to my right. I backed slowly in the opposite direction.

As soon as I was out of Andrel’s sight, I ran.

With the scent of blood and smoke searing my nose, with the sound of my once allies’ confused voices rising at my back, with stiffness and lingering poison in my muscles, I ran away from everything I’d ever believed, knowing that I wasn’t ever going to be able to come back to it.

Knowing I didn’twantto come back to it.

That newfound knowledge fueled my steps, pushing me faster and faster. I was running so fast by the time I reached the first floor that I didn’t see Cillian rounding the corner ahead of me in enough time to stop.

We collided, hard, and he only just managed to catch me and keep me from hitting the ground.

“Cillian—”

A clamor of bodies and voices roared behind me, descending the same steps I’d raced down moments ago.

Andrel had said I could go back to my gods, but I had a feeling that was yet another lie.

Cillian seemed to understand everything that had happened—everything that was in danger of happening—even though I didn’t say a word. He’d always been able to read my silences.

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