Page 19 of Flame and Sparrow

We’d only truly restored one wing of the manor, while the rest of the house and grounds stood around it in varying states of decay. It was dangerous to navigate many of these decaying spaces…not to mention depressing, seeing the evidence of what had once been. We talked about fixing it up properly all the time. I had drawn up plans, even—detailed diagrams and notes for nearly every room, just waiting for us to implement them. All we needed was time and money.

We had neither, so most days we just avoided the broken places.

But there was one neglected space that I couldn’t resist visiting often, however dangerous or depressing it might have been to wander toward it: the once grand ballroom.

It was on the complete opposite end of the grounds, nearly a half-mile from where I’d left Andrel; it might as well have been located in another world entirely. I had to walk through the ruins of the burned library to reach it, a path so decrepit and overrun with weeds and dust that it was nearly unrecognizable—but at least that made it easier to not think about all that had been lost in the flames.

Those thoughts didn’t come until I stepped into what was left of the hall leading up to the ballroom. The path here had retained some of its splendor, its patterned tiles full of complicated swirls and shapes that were fragmented, yet still mesmerizing. I studied them as I walked along, mentally filling in the missing or scratched-away designs as I made my way to the circular atrium just outside the ballroom.

There had once been two massive doors hanging here. Only one remained, but it was impressive enough on its own, its face carved full of symbols—everything from daggers, to roses, to strange, mythical creatures I couldn’t readily name. There were designs along the edges and in the six distinct panels in the middle—two dedicated panels for each of the three most powerful elvish houses: Moreth, Mistwilde, and Lightwyn. The House of Mistwilde—my ancestral house—was featured along the top, with a sword surrounded in feathers on one panel and a jeweled goblet carved into the other.

I could have slipped in through the gap left by the missing door, but I always pushed the remaining one open instead, trying to imagine what it would have been like to see these doors sweeping apart to allow for dramatic entrances.

I swore sometimes I could hear music drifting over me as soon as I stepped across the threshold.

Some of the walls were still intact and glittering with a thin overlay of golden paint, though otherwise bare; the tapestries that had decorated them were long gone. The roof had collapsed some years ago, but on nights like tonight—when the sky was clear and wild with stars—it only made the room feel more vast and full of music and grand possibility.

My gaze traveled over the few unbroken stained-glass windows as I meandered toward the center of the space, turning in occasional circles, unable to stop myself from imagining I wore a gown fit for the grandeur once contained in this room.

A most splendid royal affair, I’d joked with Cillian, and I repeated the words now, whispering them to the humid air, mocking the very idea of it all.

I didn’t truly care about being of royal blood. I hadn’t dared to dream of such things as a child, even when my father had been around to tell us fairytales and other nonsense before bed every night. Even when he’d told me the truth when I was nine years old—that my ancestors had actually been royalty in every sense of the word—I still didn’t think of it as anything more than a footnote on the yellowed and torn pages of our complicated history.

I didn’t want balls or crowns or feasts, then or now. I just wanted a home not covered in dust and decaying things. I wanted my father and mother back. I wanted my sister back.

And I wanted to make the ones responsible for all this ruin pay for what they’d done. I needed that far more than a crown.

I needed it so badly that sometimes it felt like it was killing me, the desire settling so heavily in my heart that it made my chest hurt and my knees feel weak.

My foot caught on a broken floor tile and I tripped, nearly landing face-first in a pile of broken glass—remnants of a crystal chandelier that had fallen some time ago. A sliver of a broken, tear-shaped crystal sliced into my palm as I pushed back to my feet. I hissed out a string of curses, the sound echoing in the desolate space.

Clenching my fist at my side, trying to ignore the stinging and the warm blood coating my palm, I moved toward the door; I’d done enough roaming for one night.

As I started to push the door aside, I heard footsteps.

I sank toward the closest wall, listening closer. Two pairs of footsteps. At least. They were heavy, as was the breathing that accompanied them.

Humans.

I went perfectly still.

One after the other they appeared on the far side of the room, climbing through an opening in the dilapidated wall, lanterns shining. Even with the clear night sky above them, they still couldn’t see what lurked in the shadows without those lanterns; sometimes I forgot how terrible their vision was compared to mine.

I continued to silently creep my way through the darkest parts of the room, heading for a door that led into a sweeping courtyard that eventually connected to another wing of the mansion.

I had nearly reached it when I accidentally stepped on a fallen pane of glass. The crack from my weight was loud—but far worse was the way the broken piece shot out from underneath me, shattering completely as it collided with the nearby wall. Between the shattering glass and my stomping as I tried to regain my balance, my cover was entirely blown.

Lantern light flickered in my direction.

A warning rang out from the two on the other side of the room, and seconds later a third man lunged through the doorway I’d been aiming for, blocking my path.

I saw a flash of steel in his hand—a knife.

He swiped for my stomach.

I twisted out of his reach, spun back around, and thrust an upturned palm into his nose. I felt the satisfying crunch of bone. He staggered back a few steps, and I swept a foot at his ankles to send him the rest of the way down.

As soon as he hit the ground, I sprinted on toward the door, veering wildly through it—

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