Page 88 of Flame and Sparrow

“True, true.” He settled back against the cushions piled in the chaise, holding the mug with both hands, summoning a bit of ice to his palms to cool down the steaming contents. “I guess I’m just curious about other ways you might beservinghim.”

“It’s a good thing I haven’t eaten yet,” I said, “because what you’re suggesting is making me feel like I might vomit.”

He grinned. I flipped him a rude gesture before getting to my feet and opening the window, trying to coax in more sound to drown out the memory of Dravyn’s voice now playing through my head.

I was already planning on thinking of you.

My cheeks burned all over again as I pictured his mouth saying those words. I’d set him up for that comeback, and he had only been teasing, surely. He simply delighted in getting under my skin, nothing more.

I hated myself forlettinghim get under my skin. For not being quick enough to shut him up with a comeback of my own.

But worse—far, farworse—was how I didn’t hate the idea of him thinking of me in that way.

What waswrongwith me?

I had come here to prove myself, to assimilate into this realm so I could destroy its rulers from the inside out. I was successfully blending in…but at what cost?

“Probably for the best that the idea makes you sick,” Valas commented. “The power dynamic would be too strange once you ascended. So I’d caution you to not get too close, now.”

“I’m not worried about it,” I said, slamming the window shut and excusing myself from the room.

“Just looking out for you,” he called after me.

My gesture was friendlier this time—a dismissive little wave—but I wasn’t going to humor his commentary any longer.

I wasn’t worried about the idea of ending up in a subservient role to any god. Because it wasn’t going to happen. I had drifted a bit from my course, maybe, but I had not forgotten where I intended to go.

And they had no idea how much power I intended to take from them before I was done.

* * *

I spentthe rest of the day refocusing on my goals.

I took paper and drawing utensils and walked almost the entirety of the palace’s extensive grounds, seeking out any and every nook and cranny I’d previously failed to document and making notes on them.

When I’d finished with that, I found a quiet, secluded grove of trees to sit in, and I started on the book of the gods I’d been thinking about making since last night. I recounted and recorded each detail of their appearances, along with every word I’d heard them utter, sifting through it all in search of useful things. So much of last night felt like a fever dream…

Had I really spent it walking and talking among all those divine beings?

My conversation with the Death Marr stood out most of all; he’d mentioned that killing a veilhound was close to killing a god—that it would have taken a very particular kind of weapon to do it.

Did such a weapon already exist?

Why would he mention the possibility if not?

As I sat there, scribbling and pondering, the wind changed.

The new breeze carried the scent of a flower I couldn’t name, something musky and sweet that reminded me of the woods back home. I braced a hand against the dirt as I felt a lonely pit opening in my stomach, unbalancing me.

I tried to keep working on my notes, but once my thoughts of home started, I couldn’t seem to make them stop.

I’d guarded against this longing so well over the past weeks, but I suppose I was too tired after the events of last night to keep my usual walls up. I soon gave up trying, putting my notes aside and drawing my knees toward me, huddling against the impending collapse of those walls.

It crashed over me all at once—how much Ihatedthis place and all its trials and secrets. How I hated its smells, its magic, its confusing gods and shifting landscapes.

How I wanted to go home, to stay there until I felt like myself again.

I wanted Andrel to help calm my nerves and remind me of why we were fighting.

---