Page 104 of Flame and Sparrow

He sighed, some of the tension slipping from his jaw and shoulders as he turned back to me. “The divine have the same power struggles and hubris as humans…old habits die hard. Each court wants to be the strongest, so they don’t want me to add another powerful, capable member to my ranks.”

“You think I’m powerful and capable?” I huffed out a laugh that sent another sharp pain through my bruised ribs. “That sounds an awful lot like a compliment.”

“A statement of fact, more like,” he said, tonelessly. “You would be dead right now if you weren’t these things. I’m still not sure how youaren’tdead after what happened at the end of the trial…so you’re also incredibly lucky, it seems.”

It wasn’t luck, it was the Serpent Goddess.

He didn’t seem to be aware that she’d helped me—maybe none of the other Marr realized what she’d done.

What would happen if they found out?

Her helping me was likely against the rules, wasn’t it?

“When I saw that fortress collapsing around you,” he continued, mumbling more to the sword than to me, “I thought for certain that was the end of you.” He took the sword in one hand, adjusting his grip and testing its weight like he was preparing to swing it at some invisible enemy. At my enemies, maybe.

Mairu’s words floated back into my mind.

I don’t think you drowning is the ending he’s hoping for.

After three days of him frequently showing up at my bedside like this, I was forced to admit that maybe she had a point. As much as I wanted to reject the idea, I couldn’t.

What was less clear waswhyhe didn’t want me to drown.

When had he decided he wanted me to succeed? Was it merely because he didn’t want my failure to reflect poorly on him and his court, or was there something more to this? To us?

Did I wantthere to be something more?

No. No, I didn’t. But I certainly wanted to know what he was thinking in that moment—neededto know.

Unfortunately, the more time I spent with him, the more I realized that trying to pry information out of him was like trying to pry open the jaws of a dragon with my bare hands. It would take courage and precision—two things my addled and pain-wracked mind couldn’t manage much of at the moment.

“It wasn’t the end of me, obviously,” I said, sinking into the pillow once more. “And I’m fine, as I told you. I mean, aside from the fact that it feels like parts of me shattered when I hit the rocks, and all those parts are now rattling around inside me in a way that probably isn’tideal.” I gave him a slightly pained, half-hearted smile, which he didn’t return.

“I know I sensed healing magic in your blood when we first met, but there’s not a damn trace of it now,” he said, eyes darkening with thought. “I wonder if being in this realm for so long has nullified it somehow?”

My reply came hesitantly; I had never imagined myself talking about such things with a god.

“…Earthboundis the term my kind have come up with,” I said. “Our divine magic was stripped away a few generations ago, as you know, but such magic leaves a residue in the earth, and these weaker remnants still seem to be accessible for certain elvish bloodlines.”

“Like yours,” he said, settling into the chair previously occupied by Rieta.

“Yes. Some are better at drawing out specific residual types of magic than others—I’ve always been able to draw healing power from my surroundings without really trying, for example. That day you found me, I guess I’d been unconsciously reaching out for such energy to try and survive what was happening, and that’s why you sensed what you did from me…”

I trailed off, my mind beginning to spin from the effort of talking much more than I had in days. I wanted to close my eyes and rest, but I couldn’t make myself; he was listening so intently, and I loved sharing knowledge, particularly with a captive audience—even if that audiencewasmy sworn enemy.

“No divine being associated with the God of Healing frequents this part of our current realm, do they?” I asked. “And they never really have?”

Dravyn shook his head.

“So I wouldn’t be able to call upon the traces of such magic like I can in my own realm,” I said.

“That makes some sense, I suppose.”

We sat there for another hour at least, puzzling over the things I’d said, discussing theories and swapping ideas. I still ached almost everywhere, but our conversation was somehow more invigorating than any of the remedies I’d been given thus far.

He finally fell silent and then stood, carrying the Ocean Marr’s sword over and placing it beside the shelf that held the Star Goddess’s silver crown and the glass sparrow he’d made. He carefully adjusted the bird’s position on the middle of the shelf, his fingers tracing the edges of it, and without looking back at me he quietly said, “This entire realm is hard on mortal bodies as it is, as we’d already established in the past.”

“I’ve been eating and drinking more to help with acclimation,” I assured him.

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