Page 92 of Flame and Sparrow

She spoke as though she fully expected me to have an endless amount of time with him. As though I was truly meant to be part of this divine realm—part ofthem—forever.

And again I wondered…why?

Why were they willing to get so close to me, when it was common knowledge that they hated my kind?

It felt like a trick.

Paranoia settled over me like an itchy and tight second skin. I didn’t say anything to her declaration. Even when she came back to my side to finish preparing me for the evening, I just sat there, inwardly at war with myself as I stared into the bureau’s mirror.

By the time she was finished, I hardly recognized the person staring back.

If I’d had a moment to dwell on things—to truly study my too-bright eyes, the odd shimmer of my skin, and to try and determine what parts were her magic and what parts were still me…well, maybe it would have scared me.

But a summons arrived before terror could truly grip me, and we were on our way down to the dining hall a minute later.

Chapter26

A curious thinghad happened during the past month I’d spent in this divine realm: I’d forgotten how much I loved food, and how I’d once loved to cook and challenge myself with inventing recipes.

There was no need to be creative with the food here; it was always abundant, always delicious—though it was an oddly controlled and consistent kind of deliciousness that never surprised or truly delighted.

I’d concluded that the gods only ate out of habit and a very occasional need for nourishment. The quality never faltered, of course, but they cared little for theloveof eating.

The banquet waiting for us downstairs, however, seemed created for the sole purpose of tantalizing every possible sense.

I’d never seen such a variety of dishes gathered in one place. It truly did seem to be in honor of me and my success, too—for these were mostly recognizable foods from the mortal realm.

The war inside me raged on. I didn’t want to be celebrated by them. I wanted to fit in to serve my purposes, but I didn’t want tobelonghere. I didn’t even want to enjoy any of this food…though damn it if I wasn’t already salivating at the sight of it.

I reluctantly sampled a few of the plates that were placed before me. A hearty and perfectly spiced soup, roasted root vegetables, some sort of pheasant drizzled in a creamy sauce. I did my best to drown out my warring thoughts by trying to pick apart the ingredients in everything I tasted, mentally creating recipes I could add to my books back home.

When this mental listing of ingredients didn’t calm me down, I reached for the wine—for glass after glass of it, despite Mairu warning me that my body had not acclimated to the point of being able to handle so much of the divine liquid.

I think I surprised her by how much Ididmanage to handle, and delighted Valas with the same dubious ability.

We ended up drinking our way through several bottles—though they both drank considerably more than me.

The hours passed by in a blur.

Eventually, things settled down at much the same pace as the night before, and I again found myself nearly alone with the God of Fire—though Valas and his servant spirits were still nearby, this time; I could hear them laughing and drinking in the next room over. Mairu had excused herself, but one of the Miratar who served her—the Mimic spirit—still lingered in the Ice God’s company.

Dravyn was paying no attention to any of these other divine beings—or to me. All of his focus was on a golden chalice resting in his lap; he appeared to be trying to repair its broken handle, welding it back together with heated fingertips.

I took a deep breath and started toward him.

Perhaps it was all the glasses of wine I’d had. Or maybe it was the way he was sitting upon his chair like it was a throne, looking far too perfect and high and mighty for my taste. Or maybe it was the deeply-rooted need I was clinging to tonight—a need to make villains out of these gods, regardless of how much wine and praise they offered me.

Whatever the reason, I decided now was the time to confront him about our conversation from yesterday.

He glanced up as I approached, studied my wine-flushed face for a moment, then nodded toward the chair beside him.

I remained standing.

He went back to his welding project. “You seem to have enjoyed yourself tonight.”

“I did, thank you. And did you enjoy yourself last night?”

“Last night?”

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