Page 106 of Ash and Feather

Such a small movement, but for some reason it made the whole scene that much more impossible to deny—because here was more painful proof that this was Savna, not some cruel imposter.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

“How could I have abandoned you?” She turned my way but still didn’t meet my gaze. She looked everywhere, anywhere else—to the faded red rug; the shelves filled with books and stacks of recipes I’d planned to try; the tattered curtains glowing soft and pink in the sunlight.

Her beautiful blue eyes were wide and haunted, as if she was watching the ghosts of our past flicker around us. She couldn’t seem to look away from them.

“How could I have let you believe I was dead for so long?” she whispered, more to herself than me.

I braced a hand against one of the bed’s posts.

“How could I?” Her gaze finally alighted on mine. She inhaled, shoulders shaking from the effort of it, and said,“Because it wouldn’t have been safe for me to come back to you.Iwasn’t safe. Not after what I’d done.”

I gripped the post so tightly I lost feeling in my hand.

“For years, I have been hiding from more than just you. I’ve been underground, building a movement, sharing what I’d taken from the gods and spinning it into something like hope for our kind. And now, we have enough power for us to take a stand, to rise up from the ashes…” She spoke quickly, face flushed, the way she’d always talked of her grand, rebellious dreams. It was easy to get caught up in the passion she exuded. Or it had been, once upon a time.

So little had changed on the surface. But underneath…

Underneath, it felt like everything had.

“But now,” she continued, “I felt as though I couldfinallymake myself known, and one of the first things I set out to do was find you. My life—and my plans for it—are still not safe, but the future is finally clear, and I knew you would want to fight alongside me to help secure that future.”

She walked slowly back to my bed. Picked up the chair she’d knocked over and carefully placed it upright, bracing her hands against its backing as she continued, “But what did I find upon resurfacing? That I was very nearly too late. That the gods had taken you hostage.”

“I…I wasn’t a hostage. I went to the divine realm willingly, same as you did. And I—”

“I’ve heard the story.”

“I doubt it was thewholestory.”

She continued as though I hadn’t spoken: “I regret not intervening sooner. I should have known you’d follow in my footsteps. You always did, didn’t you? Even when I made you swear you wouldn’t.” Her smile was fond. Genuine.

For some reason, the sight of it made me feel like I’d been kicked in the stomach.

“I went to Nerithyl like you did, that’s true, but…” My eyes strayed to the curtains and stayed there. Their rosy glow reminded me of the way the forgelights diffused into the middle-heaven sky.

“But what?”

I forced my attention back to her. “But we didn’t find the same things in that place.”

She studied me for a long time. Folded her arms across her chest and walked to the window I’d been staring at, leaning against the wall next to it and studying it closely, as if trying to see what I’d been seeing.

Her brow furrowed. Her voice was strained as she said, “Right. I heard you were using magic against some of our soldiers in Ederis—and then you used it in Mindoth, too. The gods gave it to you, of course. And I’m guessing they forced you to do their bidding with it. The hierarchy of divine power, still alive and well.”

Anger heated my skin. Not just anger at her, but at myself—because she was saying exactly what I would have said months ago. How could I convincingly argue against something I’d spent most of my life believing?

I didn’t know.

But I had to try.

“They didn’t force me to take anything, or to become anything I didn’t want to be,” I told her. “The God of Fire gave me the powers I have to save my life. More than once, the Marr saved my life, in fact, and they—”

“The gods don’t save lives. They only destroy them.”

---