Page 141 of A City of Flames

It’s all the same.

My head falls back onto Darius’s chest, tiring from thrashing in his arms and though my chest burns, I still don’t cry. I can’t.

As smoke and rubble cover the arena, I can no longer see him.

* * *

Golden hues of the early dawn gloss over the skies as dragons fly outside my window.

It’s the one thing that’s given me comfort since the trials last week—a way to ease my mind from that day. I haven’t cried, not once, but I’ve stayed here in one of the rooms of the den, wishing I could.

It’s as if crying is what will make what happened real.

And I don’t want to believe it was.

I gaze at the sun carving in my hand and the leather fingerless glove Leira had found for me before there’s a knock.

I look over my shoulder, putting the carving into my pocket and say, “Come in.”

At that, the door opens, and the three of my brothers slip inside. My smile is weak as I walk up to Iker. He holds a plate of strawberry pie in his hands, and I take it from him with a light chuckle. “So, you’ve been the one bringing the pies to my door this past week.”

His brows pinch together, a mixture of puzzled amusement on his face. “Well, I—”

“You haven’t left the room since you arrived.” Idris’s curt words draw my gaze to him by the wall. I hadn’t managed to speak with my brothers as much nor tell them of my time at the barracks. Still, they know enough by now.

“Or eaten, for that matter,” Illias adds, grimacing at my plate. “You love your food.”

Well... at least I’ve eaten the pies set at my door each night. “I’ve not been hungry,” I murmur the truth.

“Why didn’t you tell us, Nara?” Idris seems to lose his patience, sighing as he shakes his head at me.

I thought I could fix it on my own.

Now I know it’s foolish to think I could have.

“Idris, we said we weren’t going to—”

“No, it’s fine.” I draw in a breath, holding my hand up to interrupt Illias. I shift my gaze to Idris and say, “I should have been truthful since the beginning. After all, you were right about becoming a venator. It was never a good idea.”

“I don’t care about what I once said.” A vein pulses at the side of his neck. “I care that my sister has been struggling while I was back at our village, thinking you were out here living your dream.”

My head lowers in shame at how far I’d let it all go. “Scold me all you want, Idris—”

Something odd happens.

My words are cut off breathlessly as Idris takes a step toward me, wrapping his arms around my neck.

I blink, holding the plate of pie out at the side, as he doesn’t let go. It’s an embrace that no matter how long it lasts, it seems as if it’s not enough, because the thought of losing me is harder than anything else for him.

“I promised, mother, I’d look after you.” His voice cracks on the last word, and it’s a sound I’ve never heard come from him. All my life Idris and I clashed because we were too similar. Not once had I seen him cry, not even when his lover perished. He keeps it all in a tight grip against his heart. A protective spell to keep the emotions at bay.

“I know,” I whisper, using my other hand to reach around him. “I’m sorry.”

We pull apart, and his blue eyes illuminating in morning light fix on me in hope. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Without you,” Illias says, and Idris looks over his shoulder at him. “You’d never have found out that shifters aren’t all that bad.” He chuckles, and the softest brown curls shake along his forehead. “Who would have thought that would be the case.”

For the first time this week, a natural smile tugs at my lips as Iker joins in with a mumble, “They’ve treated us better than our village did, but I still won’t forgive Idris for leaving Dimpy with Miss Kiligra.”

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