Flame and Sparrow (Flame and Sparrow Duology Book 1)

by S.M. Gaither

For everyone who’s ever been told they’re ‘too much’— Go ahead and burn as brightly as you want to.

I came to more fully understand what Savna had known from a much younger age—that the gods took whatever they wanted and did not give back.

If I die in this temple tonight, at least my death will fan the flames of our rebellion.

sometimes what was considered monstrous changed depending on the lighting.

He was one of the only people standing perfectly still. His smug smile was gone, his shadowed face oddly contemplative. I glared at him and nothing else. As everything else steadily turned to little more than bleary, smoke-obscured blurs, he became my only tether to this realm, this lifetime. I directed every angry, desperate thought I had in his direction. All my bitterness. All my rage. The familiar hatred cocooned me as it always did, bringing safety and warmth as I sank into it, making me invincible and— The guard looked up. Our eyes met. All the warmth in the world abruptly disappeared. A strange sensation reverberated through my body, pricking at my skin like needles. I couldn’t readily name the feeling overcoming me, but I no longer felt wrapped in anything safe—I felt as if the outer layers of me had been scoured clean off, casting glaring firelight onto all of the ugliness underneath.

The flames were hot, charring the platform and engulfing more and more…yet I was only sweating. My skin felt burned and blistered in places, but a quick glance at even the most uncomfortable spots revealed a body perfectly intact. The fire licked at my skin like spiny grass tickling it. Irritating it. Nothing more. The entire world had gone up in flames all around me. But somehow, I was not burning.

The most stunning man I’d ever seen stood before me. So stunning that it took me a moment to realize I’d seen him before—it was the guard from my prison. I was certain of it. Yet, it wasn’t him at all. He’d looked imposing from the moment I’d met him in my dark and dingy cell, but in the suddenly bright, clear day, with his edges accented by the firelight walling us in, he looked…inhuman. His hair, dark blond with hints of red, was long enough to tie into a knot—and some effort had been made to do this, but several strands had pulled loose, presumably ruffled by the hood he’d been hiding beneath. It should have looked messy, especially combined with the bit of scruff along his jawline. And perhaps it would have if that jawline had not been so strong, so sharp, and the rest of him had not looked so disgustingly…perfect. As if nothing about him could ever truly look disheveled. His eyes were definitely silver, but I now saw hints of blueish-green in them as the day brightened around us, like pockets of calm water breaking up a grey and stormy sea. The cloak he’d worn had been cast aside, and beneath it he wore a finely-tailored shirt of white linen, its sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms covered in strange markings—swirls of black edged in red. Like the godmark I’d seen on his wrist earlier, these red edges seemed to glow, making me think of molten rock cracking through charred earth. With each pulse of glowing light, the walls of flames surrounding us brightened ...

“You can spit at me again if you’d like, but it won’t put these fires out.” His voice was low, a rumble of confidence flirting with arrogance. He waved a hand, lazily, at the walls, and the flames roared even higher, their glare bright enough to obscure the sun itself. “Only I can do that.”

“You don’t truly understand what you’re getting yourself into, Little Sparrow.”

The gods were cruel without cause. Without mercy. Without regret.

am not afraid.” The god studied me for one last, long beat. “You aren’t, are you?” Before I managed a reply, he reached out and took my thin arm in a powerful grip. His hand was so massive it was able to encircle my forearm entirely. As he squeezed, a heat just short of burning radiated from his palm, searing a path all the way up to my shoulder. As he drew his hand away, black marks like the ones on his skin twisted along my own. He traced a finger down to my wrist, and some of the darkness sank into my body, leaving only a small blot in the shape of a twisted flame, similar to the one most of his marked humans carried—albeit darker than any I’d ever seen.

“The mark I gave you will offer some protection until we meet again…assuming we do meet again, and you survive the afternoon.” I tried not to scoff at the challenge. “And after I survive it? Then what?” “I’ll send for you when I’m ready to do so.”

The God of Fire was nowhere in sight. And the mark he’d left on my arm, the one he’d promised would help protect me... It was gone.

“Your…your arm.” A tingling sensation swept from my scalp down my spine. Fear followed in its wake, trying to freeze me in place, but I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, lifted my arm, opened my eyes again… And there it was. The god’s flame-shaped mark had once more appeared on my skin, bright and burning for everyone to see.

The God of Fire was waiting for me, somewhere close by, somewhere beyond the edges of my familiar world. I felt him the way I felt storms approaching on a summer day—as a shifting pressure against my body, an electric pulsing that made the hairs on my arms stand on end.

“Sometimes admitting we’re lost is the first step to finding the way, isn’t it?”

“The Edgelands are a dangerous place, and the Death God is dangerous company.” “Aren’t all gods dangerous company?” I thought I saw the hint of a smile twitch his lips. It disappeared just as quickly. “Yes. But the younger the god, the more volatile their presence and powers. And Zachar is the youngest of us.”

He lifted his hand, the motion slow and hesitant with thought, and gently grasped the necklace’s charm. Turned it over. Studied it. His fingers brushed the hollow of my throat, leaving a tingling trail of heat in their wake. “You wouldn’t have died,” he finally said, letting go of the necklace and turning away again. He said it with such conviction that I couldn’t help but ask, “How can you be sure?” “Because.” “Because why?” He scratched Moth’s chin, causing the griffin to purr and rustle his wings. “Because I know a wildfire when I see one. And I don’t think those villagers would have been able to put you out so easily.”

“Be still, miran-achth.”

Uuuu nicknames 🥳

“I was… a prince. Of that kingdom you mentioned—Galizur.” “From a prince to a god,” I mused.

“I told you before that I knew a wildfire when I saw one, didn’t I?” I nodded. “Wildfires are sometimes hard to predict,” he concluded,

“I am not some hapless, giggling virgin who’s going to throw myself at your feet every time you flash a crooked smile my way.” “That’s a shame,” he said, “because I love it when hapless, giggling virgins throw themselves at my feet.”

“But if it helps you relieve some of the obvious burning tension you’re experiencing, then by all means, you can go fuck yourself.” “I’m not usually a fan of the solo routine, as it were.” He smiled brighter, clearly enjoying himself now. “You don’t happen to know where I could find some giggling virgins, do you?” “I can’t help you there.” I kept my voice perfectly even, determined not to seem flustered, as I added, “But I’m in a generous mood, so please feel free to think of me while you take care of yourself. Just know that it’s as close as you’ll ever get to the real thing. So I hope you enjoy it.” He stroked the hard line of his jaw as if considering my offer. And I swear the bastard stopped just short of winking at me as he turned away, chuckling, and said, “I was already planning on thinking of you.”

“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.”

“You look nice, by the way. Radiant, even.” He exchanged the chalice he’d repaired for the glass of wine on the table beside him. “For an elf,” he added with a glance at my ears.

“Your appearance doesn’t make me want to claw my eyes out tonight,” I informed him. “You’re almost pleasant to look at, even. For a god.” His smile brightened.

“I feel…” he replied, slowly, “as though someone should have taught you not to play with fire.”

“So let’s keep the danger in mind,” he murmured, “and please believe me, Little Sparrow, when I tell you that I could set fire to every inhibition you possess, and when we are finished it will only be you and I among the ashes. I will be the only thing you can think of, and it will not be disdain that you feel toward me, I can promise you that.”

“And now I feel like you and that dress should get out of my sight,” he said, “before we do something we’ll both end up regretting.”

“I don’t think he would have cared if I’d drowned. I think—” I choked on the words as I tried and failed to push myself upright. I stubbornly tried again, and succeeded this time, though the pain in my side made me so dizzy I nearly fainted. “I think…” I gasped “…that he’d be happy to have the ordeal over with, honestly.” She placed a steadying hand on my arm. “He would be happy to have it over with,” she agreed. “But I don’t think you drowning is the ending he’s hoping for.”

“Well, I suppose it’s lucky I’ve never based my worth on how useful I could be to a man. Or to a god, for that matter.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I might actually miss that smart mouth of yours while you’re gone.”

“Well, I would tell you to feel free to think of this mouth while I’m gone,” I said, “but I’m sure you were already planning to think about it.” His gaze finally fixed on me, burning with possibility and promise as he said, “Among other things.”

“You’ll have to come back soon enough, of course,” he continued without missing a beat. “I’m afraid we’re stuck together until we see our deal through to the end, for better or worse.”

“Karys?” My name, so soft and so clear from Dravyn’s lips, startled me; I couldn’t recall him ever calling me anything aside from Sparrow. As I opened the door, my lips curved in a slight smile. “You actually do know my name.” He returned the smile, faintly, stepping inside and offering me what he’d apparently gone to retrieve—a bracelet comprised of glass beads. I took it and held it up to the window for a closer look. The forgelight’s glow ignited the translucent glass, revealing the true depth of colors swirling in each of the beads’ centers. “Your work?” I guessed. He nodded. “And infused with a powerful dose of my magic. Whenever you’re ready to come back, it will show you the way to me and help you get here.”

A monster, but a monster who had gifted me the sun. Who had offered me healing in every way he could after my trials…and then let me go when he saw no other way to aid in that healing. He was still the villain. I couldn’t forget that. It was just… In my head, I’d written our story much differently.

Dravyn stood among the lingering, swirling embers, his eyes the most terrifying shade of red I’d ever seen, glowing like two hellish pits of molten rock. Those terrible eyes flashed from the broken piece of bracelet scattering the ground up to the grip Andrel had on my leg. His voice was quiet but deadly as he said, “Let go of her. Now.”

Dravyn turned his head slowly back to Andrel. Released him. Took a single step back, and in a voice tight with suppressed rage, he said, “If you ever touch her like that again, I will find you, and I will not simply remove your hands—I will carve them off in the most painful, gruesome manner possible.” His voice slipped into a growl, so low I could barely hear it over the pounding of my pulse. “But don’t worry: I’ll be sure to cauterize your wounds when I’m done.” A flame, wicked and blazing white, appeared in his hand. “I am a most generous god, after all.”

His voice lowered. Still annoyingly calm compared to mine, but clearly frustrated. “Tonight I just needed to make sure you were okay.”

“I didn’t need you to interfere!” Pain spasmed through my injury, edging my tone toward wild, unhinged. “I don’t know what you were thinking, but I never needed you to swoop in and save me. I don’t need you to burn the world down for me—if I wanted that done, I could do it myself.” “I was only trying to help.” “I didn’t want your help!” I practically roared. “I don’t want anything from you and your stupid court! I wish you’d left me alone—I wish you’d left me alone on the very first day we met, when I was burning on that platform!”

“He’s never done anything like this before.” “If he did it once, he’ll do it again.” “You have no idea what he’s done for me, all the—” “What he’s done for you?” “Yes.” “Does he remind you of those things often?” I couldn’t deny this. His eyes narrowed. “So it sounds more like he did those things for him, in hopes of locking you into some sort of contract with unspecified terms.”

“I am calling in that favor the God of Healing owes me,” he said. “Be angry about it if you’d like. I don’t care. I will not watch you suffer any more tonight.”

“Put your daggers away, my Sparrow. You’re not on trial at the moment. And everything I do and say is not meant to start an argument with you.”

My sparrow 🫠

“Sometimes we hold on to painful things, I think, because letting them go feels like letting go of the person who gave them to us.”

“Smite you?” Dravyn laughed a quiet, humorless laugh. “No, Sparrow. I am not going to smite you. I’m not in the mood today.” “But maybe you will be tomorrow?” “We’ll see.”

“What are you laughing about?” “You have the look on your face.” “What look?” “When you’re curious about something, your forehead gets a very deep groove.” He pointed to his own forehead, trying to mimic it. “And your lips part, as if you’re trying to inhale it all in, in every way possible.” I tilted my face away from him, blushing. “You don’t have to hide it. I like that look on you.”

“Better too curious than willingly ignorant,” Dravyn said.

I leaned back, marveling at the towering, colorful circle of branches overhead. Dravyn sucked in a breath as I reclined into him, his hands sliding lower, following a natural path toward my inner thighs. He realized what he was doing and started to pull them back, but I reflexively pressed my hands over his and held him in place. For balance. Mostly for balance. The motion made him chuckle. He buried his face against my hair, breathing in my scent, nose and lips grazing the side of my neck. “Did you forget what I said about not becoming too aroused?” “Did you?” “I’m perfectly in control of my arousal, thank you.” His hands moved beneath my palms, and I wondered—for the span of a shaky breath—what it might be like to make him lose that control. “In control for now,” I mumbled. “Yes.” His fingers massaged my thighs, moving closer to the center of them but stopping just short of stroking the sensitive spot at their apex—a demonstration of the control he touted. His mouth dipped closer to my ear as he said, “But we’ll see what happens later, I suppose.”

“You know, I don’t think you’re as in control as you claim.” He reached out and gathered a fistful of my shirt, dragging me the final few inches to his chest. His fingers remained clenched in the fabric, holding me in place, and his voice was quiet but frayed, teetering on the edge of losing restraint, as he replied. “I will admit you test that control like no one I’ve ever met.” I felt a smile curving my lips. His mouth crashed against it an instant later. It didn’t end there, this time—not as the soft, hesitant brush of lips we’d shared before. This time it was deeper, darker, as wild as the woods surrounding us. He took my bottom lip between his teeth. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make me feel like he intended to leave a mark, to claim my mouth and all the rest of me as his own. The thought of being branded in such a way drew a soft moan through my lips. He responded by bringing his other hand up and threading it through my hair, pulling me deeper into the kiss until I was breathless and forced to draw back for air. “This is a bad idea,” I gasped into his mouth. “For so many reasons,” he agreed, and kissed me again. I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging tightly, but the force of his kisses still sent me staggering backward over the uneven ground. He solved this by guiding me toward the closest tree, pinning me against the smooth bark. With my tiptoes balanced on a thick root, I was taller than him, putting my breasts almost level with his mouth. His...

“Should I be concerned?” I asked, jokingly, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You really did intend to smite me, didn’t you? But you’re stealing me away to some even more remote corner of your territory to do it.” I felt his chest vibrate with a suppressed laugh. “You’ve caught on to me. Nothing gets by you, does it?” He pressed a kiss to my ear with the words, and I shivered.