Phoenix Flame - Sara Holland Page 0,72
the winter and made cardboard boxes into forts. What’s real is you sat next to me on the bus the first day of kindergarten, even though the other boys made fun of you. What’s real is that every dog in the neighborhood was your best friend.”
I’m tearing up now and have to stop and catch my breath before going on. I didn’t even really remember all of this, but it rushes back as I speak, a waterfall of images.
“What’s real is that you always picked flowers for Mom, and she couldn’t be mad at you even though you wrecked her garden. You always let me choose the TV show, and you’d sit with me and watch whatever dumb little-kid shit I chose. What’s real is that we loved you so much and it’s honestly been freaking awful growing up without you.”
One silent moment passes between us. Then, wordlessly, Nahteran leans over and wraps me in a hug. I hug him back, the tears escaping and rolling down my cheeks. Even though he’s a foot taller than me now—which seems unfair—he feels like home.
“Please stay at Havenfall,” I mumble into his shirt. “Whatever happens with the Silver Prince and Mom, stay here with us.”
Nahteran lets me go and turns to look out over the mountains again, but keeps one arm slung over my shoulder. “I want to,” he says kindly. “But we can’t hide out forever, no matter how great this place is. Someone has to take our answer to the Silver Prince.”
“Not necessarily,” I whisper. “What if we choose not to make the trade?”
His arm around me goes tense. “Then I don’t want her to die alone, in a world where no one cares about her.”
“Then, what, you’ll just go on working for him?” I ask. I don’t mean to be combative, but my voice rises anyway, bitterness and fear mixing together inside me. “Or will he kill you? Because I can’t imagine he’ll just let you walk out again.”
“I know that.” Nahteran sounds contrite but resolute. “But it’s like I said earlier. The Silver Prince will achieve what he wants in the end. If I’m at his side, maybe I can reduce some of the collateral damage.”
“He’s not unbeatable,” I point out. “We beat him before. I beat him, and God knows I’m pretty useless most of the time.”
A small, sad smile plays around Nahteran’s mouth. “I disagree.”
“Don’t try to distract me with flattery.” I elbow him lightly in the ribs. “Look. I know he’s terrifying. I’m scared of him too. But if you just admit defeat in advance and go along with what he’s doing, you’re allowing it to happen. Trust me. I know I was bragging a minute ago, but I was this close”—I hold up my thumb and pointer finger half an inch apart—“to letting him manipulate me into giving up Havenfall while Marcus was out cold.”
“If I fought him outright, I’d have been dead or brainwashed like Bram years ago,” Nahteran says, wooden. “I figure it’s better to be a pawn and retain my free will. Maybe save a few people along the way. Besides, Maddie …”
He hesitates, like he knows I won’t like what he’s about to say.
“Would it be the worst thing in the worlds if what the Silver Prince wants comes to pass?” he asks. “Whether it’s in two years or a hundred, at some point, Oasis will fall and everyone inside will die. The Byrnisians aren’t responsible for what the Silver Prince does. Don’t they deserve a chance to live?”
I don’t have an answer to that, at least not a simple one. So instead I bounce back another question. “What’s his plan, then? What is the Silver Prince imagining?”
“I don’t know exactly,” Nahteran says without meeting my eyes. “But I can tell you what I’m imagining. Just peaceful coexistence, that’s all. If I can figure out how to replicate the armor I can create safe zones where Byrnisians outside the wall can live here in peace. And not just Byrnisians. Solarians, though obviously they don’t need the phoenix flame. Fiordens, whoever else.”
Nahteran looks sidelong at me. “I heard some gossip about you and that Fiorden soldier, Brekken. Can’t say I like the guy so far, but just think, wouldn’t it be nice to at least have the option of being together with someone like that?”
My face heats up, and I fight the childish instinct to tell Nahteran to keep his nose out of my beeswax.
Because the thought of Brekken hurts. I