Rising Flames | Throne of Glass

8

'It's suicide to attempt a rescue, as much as we miss Aelin.'

Sam didn't just miss her, he needed her. Enya, on the other hand, was content to wait rather than risk her neck to save her sister. 'But-'

Lightning fast, Enya pressed a dagger to his lips. 'No. Nine lives' worth? I'm predicting that will be at least a year.' With an equally fast movement, Sam wrenched the dagger from his lips. Enya crossed her arms. 'Honestly, we're never going to get along at this rate. If this is the case, go. Go be reckless. Instead, I'm going to stay here and plan what to do for when we finally see her again.'

Sam slumped. 'I know. It's just-'

Enya cut him off. 'The grief. I'm not as close to her as you. I don't, and can't understand your pain. But,' she pushed an apple into his hands, 'how about we try to get along now? I learn from you, you learn from me.'

'We just met.'

'Sam Cortland.' He almost couldn't bear the way she addressed him. It wasn't condescending, but it made him feel small and flustered nonetheless. 'Would you die for Aelin?'

'Yes.' There was no hesitation in the answer.

'Aelin is my blood-sister whom you are willing to die for. I trust you enough. Friends?' Enya held out a scarred hand. She saw Sam instantly rake his gaze over her palm.

'She has many scars too.' But he took her hand, squeezing tightly. His own palm was calloused, too. Drawing back after a heartbeat and running a hand through his hair, Sam said, 'This friends thing - I'm really not too familiar with that concept.'

Enya grinned. 'I had many in the Sessiz Suikast. Did Aelin ever tell you about Ansel?' Sam's face paled ever so slightly. 'What?' she asked.

Sam dropped into the sofa, and leaned back, his brown hair brushing her thighs. After taking a bite of the apple, he spoke. 'Let me tell you a story.'

~

Enya held her head in her hands. She had moved to the couch, and Sam had shuffled up for her. His toes were poking her ass, and if it weren't for the numbing shock, she might have laughed. 'Ansel... a traitor? And Mikhail died?' she whispered. Sam nodded gravely. The sun's bleeding rays streaked in through the wide window, turning Sam's hair to a bronze fire, and Enya's own a living flame. 'Gods. Just... Gods.' But she knew the Gods were powerless - they were just ghostly, myth-based figures whose names gave people the belief and courage they needed. Useless idiots the rest of the time.

Sam removed his toes. His face was sombre and sympathetic, but he said nothing for a long while. Finally, after giving the fireplace mantel a too-long look, he said, 'There used to be a clock there. And a silver tea set on the table. When the paralysis wore off, I walked in here to find shattered glass everywhere.'

'Paralysis?'

'Arobynn drugged me with Gloriella so I was immobilised and presumably replaced my body with a mauled one for Celaena to see.' He sighed. 'It's almost six. Can you cook, or shall I?'

Enya was shocked, to say the least. 'Arobynn-'

'Is a bastard. Are you going to cook?'

Enya had spent seven years doing chores - she knew well enough how to cook a decent meal. And many other things. 'Tell me,' She asked, 'What does Aelin like? What can she do?'

Sam walked to the kitchen. 'She likes reading.'

Enya chuckled. 'I gathered that from the bookshelves.'

'She is terribly awful when it comes to the area of housekeeping,' he said over his shoulder. 'What about you?'

'I can cook and sew as I had to help out with the elders in the Red Desert. Cosmetics and books weren't ever particularly appealing, so I saved up gold and silver for music. I play the bansuri.'

Sam raised his brows. 'Impressive. Celaena plays the pianoforte. But I don't think she has ever picked up a single needle or thread in her life.'

Enya laughed and joined him at his side. 'I'll do the vegetables.'

They worked in silence for a few minutes, the sound of blade on wooden chopping boards the only noise heard in the apartment. 'If you don't mind my prying, why were you separated?'

'I have the vaguest memory of nearly being burnt to death by Aelin when we were weeks old. There's a scar on my scalp that proves that. And although I'm demi-Fae, I don't have fire abilities.' Best to keep the knowledge of her heightened senses and abilities a secret, as there was no need to give him any higher ground than necessary. 'Our parents thought it may be safer to... split us.'

Sam said, 'Have you ever considered returning to Terrasen and reclaim the throne?'

'Return to Terrasen, yes. Become queen? Well, Aelin is the older of us, so she decides.' Enya grinned a little.

Half an hour later, dinner was finished. Sam eyed the platters appreciatively. 'Not too bad.'

Enya snorted. 'I need spices.' Three years from the Red Desert, and she still hadn't lost her longing for the exquisite tastes of their meals.

'Spices and a bansuri will be attainable from the market tomorrow.' Upon seeing her raised brows, he said, 'I want to hear you play.'

~

Enya gazed at the bansuri laid on the table before her, the wooden instrument polished and gleaming in the noon light.

Sam sat on the couch, his keen eyes tracking her expression, her movements as she reached for the bansuri. Its weight was slightly lighter than she remembered - though daggers were incomparable to a wooden stick. She raked a nail over the mouth of the instrument - clean.

'I haven't poisoned it,' Sam called.

Slowly, she lifted it to her lips and played a long note. She hadn't forgotten how to play; the instrument seemed as familiar as ever. 'Go on,' Sam encouraged.

'Give me time,' she snapped back.

Another breath, another note.

And then she started playing.

It was slightly off at first, but the music gradually drifted back to her. She would sometimes stand atop the roof of the fort and play to the stars at midnight, the warm desert breeze ruffling her hair. There was none of that feeling, though but she still closed her eyes and gave everything to the music.

~

The sun had set, leaving behind a bleeding trail of crimson. Slowly, that faded too, and the moon rose, the stars beginning to appear.

The Lord of the North was distant up above, and Enya raised the bansuri to her lips.

A scuffling from behind her made her whirl, clutching her heart.

'Oh, it's you again,' she said, a smile breaking over her lips. 'You scared me.'

He walked closer, a sheepish grin visible on his face. 'I heard you playing last night. I thought you might be here again. So. Will you play for me?'

They'd been friends for some time, although he wasn't always around. She gave him a long look before finally saying, 'All right.'

He stood beside her on that starry night as the music of the wind danced around them, echoing across the vast dunes. And when she finished, they stood there, shoulder to shoulder, silent for the duration of that night.

~

'That was beautiful,' Sam said.

'No, it wasn't,' Enya blushed.

'Well, if it wasn't, then I want you to play every night till you think it is.'

Enya pushed her brows together. 'Why?'

'I need a distraction. Music helps.'

Enya nodded slowly. 'As you wish.'