Page 150 of What Blooms from Death

“Desperation is not an excuse.” He exhaled a long, shuddering breath. “But I’m afraid it’s the only one I have. I’m sorry, Nova.”

The silence stretched on as I searched for the right response to this—if one existed. “I’m sorry, too,” I said, tilting my head back to stare at the coffered ceiling. “I thought I’d be able to do more. How many of those warriors did I revive in the end?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does.”

“You did more than enough,” he insisted. “You were brilliant.”

I snorted. “You sound like Eamon. If one more person insists I’mbrilliantwhile the world around us continues to crumble, I might scream.”

He took my hand, gently lifting and turning it to better examine one of the bruises along my forearm. “It wasn’t fair of me to ask you to hold up so much of that world on your own.”

I started to argue, but found I didn’t have the energy—or the right words—for it.

“You did enough,” he repeated. “And again…I’m sorry.”

I pulled my hand from his, wrapping my arms around myself, trying not to wince at the pain even this slight pressure caused. “It’s fine. Well, it’s notfine. But it’s the situation we’re in, isn’t it? It’s not as though you had a lot of other options.”

He sighed.

I went back to counting ceiling tiles.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, he said, “It doesn’t make up for all that happened, but I was thinking…you should take the rest of the day off from training and dealing with the pressures of this palace.”

I lowered my gaze back to his, my interest piqued.

“We have an important gathering happening here the day after tomorrow; I haven’t said anything about it before now because I didn’t think it would actually happen—I assumed the invitations I sent would go unanswered. But at least some of the leaders from what’s left of our world have answered the call; they’ll be joining us to discuss the upcoming Equinox. And to meet you, of course.”

My heart skipped several beats, but I kept my face impassive.

“You should go into town and buy whatever you’d like to wear to this meeting. It will be good for the people of Tarnath to see you, anyway—with escorts, of course.”

“I don’t need the palace guards to escort me anywhere.”

“You can’t go alone.”

“Aleksander will go with me.”

He stood, walking over to the dresser and fidgeting with the tray of food and drink in the center of it. He poured himself aglass of water from the silver pitcher but didn’t drink any of it, merely clutched it tightly in his hand as he thoughtfully rubbed his chin.

I cleared my throat. “If he’s willing to punchyouon my behalf, imagine what he’d be willing to do to any average person who might threaten me.”

“…A fair point,” Bastian conceded with a wry smile. “And something tells me he would have done a lot worse to get to you. So I’m considering myself lucky.” He carefully touched his swollen nose and took a long, slow sip of his drink, considering. “The two of you together, then. But there will be guards, as well—I’ll command them to keep a respectable distance.”

The thought of them atanydistance was suffocating. But I’d seen very little of Tarnath since my arrival, and the idea of a relatively normal stroll through a city was undeniably tempting, so I agreed to these terms with little fuss.

We sat for a little longer, chatting mostly about the upcoming meeting with our world’s leaders. Servants flittered in and out, bringing more trays of food and drink, trying to coax me into eating it. I struggled with this; I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had so little interest in food.

Once I’d finally managed to eat enough to relieve my brother’s concern, he stood and grabbed his coat from the chair in the corner before turning to leave.

“Enjoy the evening,” he said, glancing back at me one last time as he adjusted the sleeves of his coat, “but promise me you’ll keep your eyes open and your guard up. I am not the only desperate person in this city.”

A few hours later,I had regained enough energy to prepare for my outing, and so, with the help of two maids, I bathed, pulled a pile of garments from the closet, and began to get dressed.

Some days ago, I’d casually mentioned to Aveline that my favorite color was orange. Unsurprisingly, a beautiful gown that heavily featured the shade had shown up in my wardrobe soon after; this seemed like the perfect opportunity to wear it.

While the maids worked to tame my hair into a half-updo, I stood before a large mirror, admiring the dress and fighting the urge to twirl in it. The main body was a warm shade of ivory, flaring out into a feathery sort of fabric at my hips. The skirt fell in various, lightweight layers, a mixture of ivory and a brilliant cascade of orange that shifted from a pale, golden amber shade near the waist to a darker, fiery shade toward the hem. It was somehow both delicate and intense, as though woven from the first rays of morning sunlight. The sleeves were long and sheer, almost weightless, like gossamer wings resting on my shoulders.

---