Page 88 of Shadows and Flames
Chapter Thirty-Three
TANA
Ihalted my descent of the front steps of the lodging house, finding Fenix seated on one of the spindly benches beneath those floating, twinkling lights. The city on the treetop was alive, laughter and music making its way to my ears, and shimmers of their fabrics and wings creating a scene out of a storybook.
“Needed some fresh air?” Fenix glanced at me over his shoulder, and I’d almost forgotten what he’d looked like, without all the layers to protect him from burning to ash. The scar around his neck now matched the one pulling at his cheek.
I approached and sat. My nightgown fell mid-thigh, leaving the rest of my leg to rest on the bench seat. “Not really, what with the windows being just holes in the wall.”
“Oh. Right, I well—” He made to stand.
“No! You don’t have to leave. If you wanted to be alone, I can just go somewhere else.”
“No, you—you’re alright. Perfect.” He shook his head and scowled at the same time a telltale shout transcended the walls of the lodging house, and I wrinkled my nose in camaraderie.
Really, I was happy for my cousin, but passionate reunions and our sharp hearing did not bode well for a restful night’s sleep. Untiltheywent to sleep, anyway. A deep groan reachedmy ears, so I focused on this unexpected addition to our little… whatever we were. “Tell me something about yourself, Fenix.” Anything to drown out the noise from the Folk and my cousin with her lover.
He ran a hand over his hair, parting the strands like digging through a flowing stream. The shaved backs and sides were freshly shorn, just a shadow against his scalp. “I, um, up until now, I’d never seen mountains before. At least, not this size.”
I remembered how Tomás had teased him for his age. Goddess, what was I even doing at thirty years? Still running after my cousin when I wasn’t diving into everything I could learn from the covens or the priestesses, no doubt. Just starting to truly recognize the endless possibilities of such a great gift, magic.
Though my upbringing was exceptionally privileged, being the daughter of the Prince of Versillia, his unfamiliarity with the world was telling. “How old you when you were turned?”
The old Fenix made an appearance, posture growing rigid, and he wasn’t looking at me anymore. Fabulous—I’d offended him. After Leen and Elián barely gave him any consideration, and Tomás’s teasing, I didn’t want—the thought of him coming all this way with us and being treated poorly didn’t sit well with me. Even if he’d come under the excuse that he was seeking an apology.
I didn’t need my magic to see that he was painfully lonely.
“I’m sorry.” I risked a hand on his shoulder, but when he tensed further, I pulled it back with another apology. “Forget I asked.”
One evening, during my studies at the Rhaestran Temple, I had lost myself in the library stacks, sitting by candlelight and delving into what happened to the human body when it was changed into a Vyrkos immortal. Weaving an old, old magic that had long grown sentient. It seemed untoward to call it a virus,a sickness, but the way it latched onto the body’s faculties and transformed, multiplying until all mortal life was suffocated, operated in a similar way.
And, in many cases, mortal life rejected the assault until a draw in the battle between body and virus resulted in final death.
I’d read many accounts that night, and the sensation of burning and being ripped from the inside out was included in just about every firsthand tale of the changing process. Even for those who’d requested to be changed for the chance of a long, long life, few reported they would make the same decision again if they had been fully aware of the pain.
Then, there were those who were changed against their will.
“I was twenty-three years.”
I didn’t draw attention to his answer, and I didn’t ask for more details. That hushed response felt like more than he’d given anyone in a long, long time, and I recited my gratitude to myself. The more time I spent around Fenix, the more clearly I saw him as more than the acerbic Vyrkos we met on the ship and who refused our help. When he wasn’t being actively yelled at or pestered, he was… quiet. Helpful.
“And how many years are you?”
“Two-hundred and thirty-five years.” Against his thirty, it seemed… I didn’t know, but how had I been judging Fenix’s lack of experience when I had many, many more years with not much to show for it? A wealth of knowledge in my chosen field, yes, but my own path? What did that look like?
The same swirl of thoughts with no solution other thandoingthrobbed between my eyes. My cousin was making her own future upstairs, and I was down here, feeling sorry for myself.
“You must have seen quite a lot in that time. And you all are from Morova?”
That was something to hold onto. “No. My cousin and I are from a kingdom called Versillia. It’s in eastern Eryva, if you’ve ever been.”
“No. Never. It’s a place with a monarch? Like here?”
Oh, Goddess, how did I explain? For a true, clear moment, I almost lied. But Fenix was looking at me again, Vyrkos-red eyes reminding me of the impending need to feed. “Ah, you see…” I huffed, and forced out the rest in one breath. “My uncle was the King of Versillia, so I am technically a Princess of Versillia, if the kingdom still stands.”
A nervous, shaking smile matched the turmoil of my insides. I rarely thought of what home was like now. IfVersilliaever crossed my mind, it was how it once was. When my parents had been alive. When Uncle Hugo and Auntie Liana would afford me far too many leniencies for my age. But, they were all that sort, encouraging boldness, curiosity, learning. Perhaps my cousin’s and my habit of running off at the mouth was inevitable. Where she was all brashness and sharp assessments, I spouted unwanted questions and let my search for knowledge lead me… well, lead me to places such as this.
It took a while for Fenix to decipher what I confessed but tried to obscure. I knew exactly when he understood because he started coughing, sputtering on his own saliva. “A—you’re aprincess?”
