Page 79 of Flame and Sparrow

Running out of time, and not knowing what else to do, I leapt and reached for it as though I could simply snatch it from the sky. My hands touched something solid in the dark—something that I convinced my tired and terrified mind was a part of the crown.

The ground beneath me started to fall away. I shut my eyes tightly, bracing myself.

I didn’t fall.

I dangled over the yawning darkness, watching as it sucked in star after star from the divine sky. With the light disappearing all around me, I gripped my invisible crown with one hand and all the strength I had in me.

I gritted my teeth, somehow summonedmorestrength from somewhere deep inside, and I managed to swing my other hand up and find another solid, invisible piece to grab. As my fingers closed over it, some of the stars veered from the vortex forming below me and streaked toward the crown constellation, creating a shining outline that soon turned tangible as the goddess had done earlier.

The sight of it fully formed sent another surge of strength through me. I pulled, and the crown moved, dislodging from whatever strange magic held it in place. A few awkward swings, throwing my weight this way and that, wrenched it completely free.

My stomach heaved violently as I hit solid ground a moment later. The air felt much warmer, and I heard what sounded like a collective gasp.

I opened my eyes and found myself in the circular room atop Dravyn’s private tower, clutching a crown of silver to my chest, kneeling in the center of an entire circle of gods and goddesses.

Chapter23

Along the farwall of the familiar meeting room I’d landed in, a vision of the night sky was being projected by some sort of spell, casting constellations against the stone.

The stage where my trial had taken place, I realized after a moment of staring.

The gods had been watching me the entire time.

They were watching me now, too; I could feel their gazes boring into me, could sense their disdainful, doubting expressions. None of them spoke. None of them moved. I felt their combined power like a fist closing in around me, squeezing away my attempts to take deep breaths.

I’d never felt more intimidated in my life.

Yet I knew I had to stand, to somehow make them think I wasn’t afraid. They had seen me crying on that projected stage; I couldn’t let that be the only image of me they carried with them.

I clutched the crown in my hands more tightly and zeroed in on only one of the Marr—the Goddess of Stars. As terrifying and radiant as she was, at least I knew I could face her and survive. I’d proven that.

I rose, marched my way over to her, and tossed the silver crown at her slippered feet.

She didn’t pick it up.

The god to her right spoke, breaking the heavy silence with a rumbling voice that made me think of waves colliding with rocks. “Was thatreallythe best you could do, Cepheid?”

My gaze was drawn to that deep, resonant voice before I could help myself. The Marr it belonged to was even larger than Dravyn, with hair the color of the sea at night and a muscular body clothed in sleek armor in various deep shades of blue and green. Like Cepheid, he walked the fine line between human and beast. His face was triangular in shape, with sharp appendages sticking out from the upper points of it and elegant antlers twisting up between those appendages; without getting closer, I couldn’t tell if these were all part of his anatomy, or a part of the hooded cloak he wore.

And I had no desire to get closer.

The sword hanging from his hip had a recognizable pattern carved all along its dark sheath—a long line of curling waves that were glowing softly. So this was the middle-god of the Ocean, then. Kelas was his name, if I recalled correctly.

His large eyes shimmered like sea-green water in sunlight as he fixed them on me.

I held his gaze for as long as I could, still determined not to show the fear currently making a mess of my insides. When I looked away, I did it slowly, calmly, searching again for something I felt like I could face.

My gaze settled on Dravyn. He looked somewhat unsettled—at least unsettled for him—his lips parted and skin flushed as though he’d been holding his breath for the past several minutes. Something I couldn’t name sparked in my chest when our eyes met, same as it had that day we’d locked eyes in Cauldra.

He didn’t look away from me as he said, “I will speak with my ascending candidate in private, if you don’t mind.”

If the other Marrdidmind, he gave them no chance to tell him. He moved confidently to my side, placing a hand against the small of my back and guiding me through one of the doors along the room’s edge. On the other side was a small sitting area at the base of a narrow staircase. It smelled strongly of him—smoky metal and an undercurrent of cedar—and I wondered if his bedroom was located at the top of those stairs.

In privateapparently meant with the rest of his court as well, because as he attempted to quietly shut the door behind us, Valas was suddenly on the other side, pushing it back open.

The God of Winter took my hand and gave it a businesslike shake. “You didn’t die an unspeakably horrifying death,” he said. “Well done, You. I’m so proud.”

Mairu didn’t say a word as she followed him into the room, but she did shove Valas aside and wrap me in a quick, awkward hug. The relief in her expression was obvious as she pulled away, even though she seemed to be trying to angle her face so I couldn’t see it.

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