Page 82 of Flame and Sparrow

Even so, as he positioned himself behind me, I was very aware of every inch of my bare skin and every move he made around it.

I sucked in a sharp breath as his hand brushed the side of my neck, lifting my hair and pushing it aside before his touch trailed back between my shoulder blades. His hands were usually warm, but compared to the steaming water, they felt cool. There was some sort of salve on his fingertips; it made my skin tingle as he swiped it on me.

“Bend over,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“So I can better see the spot I’m trying to tend to. The lighting in here is not ideal.”

I squirmed where I sat, trying and failing to shake off the unwanted shivers his words had sent racing through me.

He tsked and muttered, “Where is your mind, Little Sparrow?”

Certainly not where I want it to be, I almost admitted.

He slid his hand toward the back of my neck, applying pressure and gently guiding me downward. His other hand brought more of the salve to my skin, covering a much wider swath than what I’d managed to scrub. Pain swiftly followed, like a scar had just been ripped off, fully exposing the wound to the elements. I cringed, and he pressed a strong, bracing grip against my shoulder.

“Be still,miran-achth.”

The last word he’d said sounded foreign to my ears; I thought I’d imagined it at first, but then he continued in the same language, muttering under his breath as he worked.

“That language you’re using…I’ve heard it before.” It took me a moment of thought to come up with a name. “Galithian?” I guessed.

“Yes.” He sounded a bit startled, as if he hadn’t realized he’d been speaking out loud.

“It’s only really spoken in the kingdom of its origin, Galizur, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “It’s an old habit that seems to come out when I’m…stressed.”

I swirled my hand through the water, thinking.

He continued quickly, presumably before I could question him about why he was so stressed. “Everyone speaks the same language once they enter this realm—or any of the other divine ones—thanks to a spell created by the upper-god I ultimately serve.”

The God of the Shade remained mostly a mystery to me even after these past weeks, but I knew he was the one who gave knowledge to all created beings; I suppose it made sense that he could make anything speak any language he wanted it to.

“But that doesn’t mean we completely forget where we came from,” Dravyn added. “Some things do fade over time, but lots of other things stick. What stays and goes is different for every Marr, I believe.”

I considered this, more and more questions spinning through my mind. “Who were you before you became a god?”

He hesitated. I could clearly see his reflection in the mirror, dark as it was in the room; the expression on his face looked similar to the one from last night, when we were surrounded by his glass creations and I’d asked who they were memorializing.

“It will take my mind off the itching,” I urged. “Because I still feel tempted to claw my skin off at the moment.”

He sighed, but finally gave in. “I was… a prince. Of that kingdom you mentioned—Galizur.”

“From a prince to a god,” I mused.

“A lateral move at worst,” he said with a slight smile.

“Were you an only child?”

“I was the second oldest of four. The spare heir, as they say.”

I tried to recall anything else I’d heard about him and his siblings. I knew I’d heard of his kingdom, but most of the details about it eluded me now—unusual for my normally organized and hyper-retentive brain, and more proof of how badly the stardust had rattled me.

“And why did you make the move from prince to god?” I asked.

“Your curiosity never ceases, does it?”

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