Except I threw it all away on girls and boys and parties. I let her down. Ifailedher. If only I’d applied myself, I might not have underestimated my cousin. But who am I kidding? I was blinded by my own arrogance long before Ember’s fireball met its mark.
I drift into a restless sleep, my dreams filled with soft lips and fresh snow.
I’m woken sometime later from a blow to the head.
‘Sheen?’ I croak, blinking blearily into the shadows.
It’s not Sheen. Sitting in my lap is a small dark object, which I realize upon closer inspection is a piece of fruit. Purplish-black in colour, resembling a fig. I glance up at the branches above and see that I am indeed slumped beneath a fruit tree.
Maybe it’s not my time to die after all.
I cradle the fruit in my hands and take a large bite, then another, and let out a groan of relief as the hollow hunger eases with every mouthful. I’m too weak to climb, so I shoot down some more, gorging myself. It’s only when I lean back against the tree, my palm resting over my stomach, that I recall another of Iris’s warnings about the Greenwood.
Never eat anything that grows in there.
Bile rises in my throat. I curse the star I was born under, and then every constellation in the sky. She never told me why, but I get the feeling I’m about to find out.
47
Blaze
Iopen the door to my quarters before Fox has the chance to knock. His dark hair is tousled from sleep, and his buttonless jacket reveals a sliver of golden torso.
‘Oh,’ I say, startled. ‘It’s you.’
‘It’s me.’ He grins as he sinks into a half-bow then lets his gaze rake upward as he straightens, for gone are the blood-stained shirt and tattered trousers – I am dressed like a Rain Singer. The swathe of blue and dove-coloured fabric is modest in length but cinched at the waist with a thin piece of rope which I’ve tied in a neat bow.
Fox swallows, then extends his arm. Naturally I ignore it, but fall into step beside him as we make our way out of the cave tunnels and down the gorge, with Scout darting ahead.
The Singers beam as I pass. They dip their heads or reach out to clasp my hands, and their excited murmuring bounces off the stone walls.
Om Shikara, Om Shikara, Om Shikara.
I try not to look as mortified as I feel, but smile and nod as graciously as I can.
‘First Heir, then Queen, and now God,’ says Fox. ‘Talk about rising through the ranks.’
A little girl toddles up, holding out a tiny dragonfly whittled from driftwood.
‘Thank you,’ I tell her, admiring the figurine before slipping it into my pocket alongside Renly’s wooden knight. ‘It’s beautiful.’
The girl ducks her head, pleased, then skips back to her mother.
It isn’t long before River appears and carefully extracts us from the throng. We follow him across the pebbled shore and into the mouth of a large cave, from which faint whirring and clicking sounds emerge. Scout’s ears prick up in interest.
The Elder, Harana, is already waiting for us. ‘I understand that you’re looking for something,’ she says, plucking a torch from a bracket. ‘And that time is of the essence.’
‘That’s right,’ Fox and I answer in unison, then glance at one another, bemused.
‘River suggested that having your own mounts would allow you to cover more ground,’ Harana continues, holding the torch high to illuminate the cave beyond.
It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. Then I see them. Dragonflies – around two dozen of them, their slender bodies a bright cobalt-blue, their long gossamer wings intricately veined and shimmeringly transparent.
I blink. ‘You mean, we’ll be …flying?’
Harana gently nudges two of the dragonflies awake; theirbulbous eyes flicker open and fix on us. ‘I assure you, it’s perfectly safe.’
‘Provided we don’t fall to our deaths,’ I mutter.
