Page 89 of Flame and Sparrow

I would have given anything to share a drink with Cillian, to listen to one of his hour-long, excited rants about whatever latest weaponry or battle strategy he’d devised; he would have plenty to say about the sort of thing that might manage to kill a veilhound, I was sure.

My eyes watered. Trembling, I cursed myself and swiped the tears away—they would do me no good. All I could do was keep my head up and play my part like they’d asked me to. I couldn’t let them down.

Iwouldn’tlet them down.

“Crying is useless,” I muttered, pretending I wasn’t alone, that there was actually someone on my side, listening to what I had to say. “We have to get up,” I told them. “We have to keep going.”

We had to keep going.

So this was what I did—I stood and wiped the dust from my pants, gathered up my drawings and notes, and I went back to work.

* * *

Evening eventually rolled around,and, though I’d only been up for a few hours, I was more than ready to collapse back into bed. To put this angry, restless day behind me and start fresh tomorrow.

The only thing keeping me from heading straight to sleep was the fear that I might wake up, as I had before, in the middle of a trial that I was in no way prepared for.

As it turned out, a different sort of trial stood between me and my bed—one that was announced by the arrival of Mairu, who held a shimmering pile of green fabric in her arms.

“What is that?” I demanded.

“It’s called a dress, Little Spitfire.”

“Yes, but why do you have it?”

“Because we have to celebrate your first victory, of course.” She hooked her arm in mine and steered me onward toward my room before I could protest. “We’re going to have a proper dinner for once, and without the Marr of the other courts intruding like they did last night. Dravyn insisted on it.”

I suspected I would enjoy whatever deadly trial those other Marr had planned for me better than sharing a dinner table with the God of Fire, but I didn’t say so; I knew how to pick my battles. Mairu had locked an almost painful grip on my arm by the time we made it to my room, and I doubted she would be easy to shake off.

The thin-strapped dress was simple but elegant, and its deep emerald shade complimented my eyes and the light brown tone of my skin. It cut daringly low and slit dangerously high, and I would never have had the confidence to wear it back home. I wasn’t sure I had such confidence now, either, even after successfully outwitting an actual goddess the night before.

I felt strange as I pulled it on, just as I’d been feeling all day…like I was succeeding at what I had come here to do, yet betraying myself and my allies at the same time.

I had set roles to play—a rebel; a destroyer; a last, desperate hope of my kind…

This dress didn’t seem to fit any of those roles.

“It’s too much,” I told Mairu. “I’ll endure whatever dinner you have planned, but I think I should change into something simpler.”

I twisted toward the closet, but she held me in place by the locks of my hair she had started braiding. “There is nothing wrong with beingtoo muchevery now and then,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“I’m not used to it, though.”

“You will have to grow used to it if you intend to take your place among the divine courts.”

I bit my lip, holding back all the objections rushing to the front of my mind.

She guided me into a chair next to the bureau, and she worked in silence for several minutes, trying multiple hairstyles—only to undo them and start over—before she spoke again, through several pins she was holding on one side of her mouth: “You want to thrive in this place, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Then fading into the background won’t serve you, I’m afraid.” Her amber eyes seemed to sparkle as she regarded our reflections in the small mirror balanced upon the dresser. “If you want to prove you belong,” she said, twisting and securing a thin braid against the side of my head, “then you must burn so brightly the gods cannot ignore you.”

My heart pounded a little too hard—a little too loudly—at the thought.

“The other Marr will be looking for any chance to put out your fire. You can’t give them that chance.”

“So burn bright…” I mused, as much to myself as her, “…but not so brightly that they realize what I truly am.”

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