Page 205 of Flame and Sparrow

“How unfortunate that you’ve turned squeamish about dealing with our threats now,” Halar continued. “Because if you and your court had not exhibited such leniency toward them in the past, then we likely wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.”

I shuffled my weight from foot to foot. I was sure thethemhe’d mentioned referred, at least partly, to my sister.

Dravyn blinked away the blaze in his eyes and turned, ignoring the God of Storms and speaking directly to the Ocean Marr instead. “It might silence them for a while,” he said, evenly, “but it will only make our rule more difficult in the long run.”

Halarhmphedat this, but said no more.

I was beginning to fear for our chances of winning any reasonable help from these foolishly prideful assholes when the God of Healing cleared his throat and said, “The Moraki have already spoken on that matter, anyhow. If they wanted the elves entirely wiped out, they would have done it themselves. But that is not their wish, so it shouldn’t be ours, either.”

“Yes, because mass murder is not the way to gain the adoration of those in the mortal realm. Go figure,” said Mairu.

“Not all of us care if the mortals worship us,” the God of the Ocean drawled.

The Healing God regarded his court member with a stern look. “But some of usdotake our obligations to the mortal realm seriously.”

The Storm Marr looked ready to respond to this.

I interjected before he could; I was tired of listening to his mouth. “We don’t know how many have been secretly preparing to rise up against you, or how powerful their weapons may be. If you won’t think of sparing mortals, then think of sparingyourselves. You might go in with the intention of proving your might, but you could be walking into a much greater threat than expected…your enemy is more clever than you give them credit for.”

Halar sneered again at this—likely because of the last remark, calling my kind ‘clever’—and I started to launch another, more furious argument, but Dravyn placed a hand on my arm.

“She’s right,” he said. “Again: We all saw what happened to your servant, Halar.”

Halar grew silent at this reminder, averting his eyes. The Star and Sky Goddesses bowed their heads.

I recalled Dravyn telling me how the Miratar were more than servants to the Marr they ascended to serve, and so I tried to dredge up sympathy toward the Storm God despite my annoyance toward him; his bitterness was at least partially fueled by grief, maybe. Anger was an excellent mask for such things.

He seemed prepared to drop the matter, at least, walking the length of the room with his eyes on the ground, as if deep in thought, for several minutes while the rest of us debated and discussed the matter more calmly.

But then he lifted his head, narrowed his eyes in my direction, and said, “Has it occurred to any of you that she might be leading us into a trap? She may have spent months in our realm, but she’s still one ofthem. And inflating the numbers and skewing the details to try and prevent us from launching a proper offensive sounds exactly like the sort of thing a filthy elf would try to pull.”

I tried, in vain, to focus on coming up with a logical reply despite the roaring in my ears.

“I suggest you watch your mouth,” Valas replied for me, in a voice as cold as the magic he wielded. “And remember whose territory you’re currently standing in.”

Halar took a step toward the God of Winter, his fingers flexing, throwing off little sparks.

Valas stood from his place at the table—where he’d passed most of the meeting reclining with an impassive, almost bored look on his face—and the pale blue marks on his skin glowed to life as the God of Storms took another step toward him.

The air warmed in the same instant, and Dravyn’s fingers dug deeper into my arm—holding himself back rather than me this time.

“That’s enough from all of you,” Mairu snapped, stepping between the Storm and Winter Gods, interrupting the deathly stares they were giving one another, and then turning to fix a deathly stare of her own on Dravyn. “Might I remind you all that we are on the same side of this battle?”

“Yes,” the Healing Marr agreed. “And something will have to be done sooner rather than later—so could we kindly settle down anddoit? The matter is exhausting enough without you all trying to tear one another’s throats out.”

Dravyn’s hand slipped from my arm, his fingers clenching into a fist rather than into my skin, but the air cooled and he managed, once again, to turn away from the provocative Storm God.

I did the same.

“These developments are likely too complex to deal with in a single, hastily-called meeting.” This was a new voice—one that was evenly measured, thoughtful, and that echoed in an ethereal sort of way. It belonged to the Sky Goddess, who now stepped fully away from the shadows and into the center of the room, her bright eyes flashing between us all. “My magic can reinforce the edges of our land for a time, at least. Or perhaps some combination of my magic and another’s…Whatever it takes, I think we need to buy ourselves more time to plan a permanent solution.”

No one immediately objected to this idea.

“So we drive them away from the veil, for now, and we reinforce the places they’ve damaged however we can,” Mairu said in her quiet but confident, powerful tone. Between listening to her and the Sky Goddess, I found myself feeling more calm and confident myself; perhaps reason would win out after all.

The room fell silent as we all considered the task before us. A minute or two passed, and not even the Storm Marr managed to find an argument against this plan. “Simple enough,” he said. “If we travel to the edges and—”

The sudden sound of feet scuffling up the stairs drew our attention toward the door to the lower floor, where a strange creature had just appeared; it was small, its movements quick and anxious like a rabbit’s, its body relatively human-like save for its gossamer wings and the silvery, ribbon-like appendages it possessed rather than hair.

---