I lie awake all night, then sit on the roof with Ren to watch the dawn. Word about my outburst must have made its way around Harglade Hall, because none of the sentries stationed outside my door seemed willing to object as I marched past, hand in hand with my little brother. They simply fell into step behind us as we made our way down to the kitchens, where Ren and I swiped a selection of fruit, pastries and a jug of mango juice before heading up the ladder and out the trapdoor on to the roof, the guards remaining below, lingering at the entrance to the attics.
The air smells of hot stone. Even at this early hour, Valburn is already bathed in hazy morning sun. Having thawed out during the night, I’m grateful for the flimsy material of mynightgown, though if Grandmother catches me wandering about wearing it I’m sure she’ll lock me up for good, and this time melt down the key. But I can’t find it in me to care. I have enough to think about already.
It all plays on a loop inside my head. The stirring in my chest. The bitter cold. The ice, the glass, the blood. My cousin’s words echo softly in my ears.
How burdensome you must have been to her, Blaze. How … disappointing.
What would my mother have made of it, I wonder? Would she have screamed, stumbled backwards, looked at me with fear in her eyes like the other Etheri? Dragged me from the scene and hidden me away like Grandmother did? Maybe Ember was right. Maybe I was nothing but a disappointment to her.
To my dismay, I realize that a small cloud of drizzle has formed above my head.
‘Not again,’ I mutter, but Renly just laughs in delight, sticking out his tongue to catch the hazy droplets. I put an arm round his shoulders, pulling him close and breathing in the comforting scent of clean linen and chocolate. He smiles at me, his mouth full of pastry.
‘You smile just like Mother did, do you know that?’ I tell him.
‘Do I?’
‘You do.’
He smiles again, pleased, then says, ‘You never talk about Mother.’
I swallow the lump in my throat. ‘That’s because it makes me sad.’
‘That she’s not here any more?’
I nod.
Ren nuzzles into me, his hair tickling my nose. ‘You’ll always be here, won’t you, Blaze? You’ll never leave me?’
Guilt slams into me so hard that I feel winded by it. Because there’s something I haven’t told him. Something I never could.
‘How do you stand it?’ Flint once asked me. ‘Being shut up here while I can do whatever I like, go wherever I please?’
‘I’m used to it,’ I replied. ‘I don’t know any different.’
This was true enough, but not the whole truth. The whole truth is that I was able to stand it because I told myself that it wasn’t forever. That one day, when I came of age, I would be free to sail across the Second Sea and start a new life far from Ostacre. It was my mother who first told me the tales of the rolling deserts of Veridia, the star-spangled skies of Obsidia, the endless grassy plains of Thresk – beautiful, dangerous isles saturated with ancient magic. Ever since, I’ve felt this strange, unmistakable pull towards the Otherlands, one that has only grown stronger in the years following her death.
I have it all figured out. In the depths of the old world, I could be someone new. I could reinvent myself entirely. I’d come back and visit, of course, yet I’d no longer be a burden to my family.
But leaving always means leaving something behind. Or in this case, someone.
Renly looks up at me, his dark eyes wide and questioning, but at that moment Flint appears through the trapdoor.
‘There you are,’ he calls.
‘Here I am.’
He throws himself down next to us, snatching up a handful of berries. ‘I knew I’d find you two up here.’ He pauses, squinting at me. ‘Gods. You lookawful.’
‘Charming,’ I tell him, as the drizzle peters out. ‘So are you here to lecture me or laugh at me? Because whichever it is, I’m really not interested.’
He brings a hand to his chest, wounded. ‘Neither. I’m here to look after you. And, fine, maybe laugh a little. I’ll leave the lecturing to Grandmother.’
I grimace.
‘Oh, stop fretting. By all accounts, everybody had a smashing time.’
I let out a groan, burying my face in my hands.
