Roseblood

?Seven?

"You really don't like her, do you?" I ask. "I mean, it's not like you aren't allowed to not like her—not in a romantic way, though—well no one is stopping you from liking her that way—I definitely don't like her that way—"

Stop rambling, says Elang, my voice of reason. I shut my mouth.

He waves my comment off. Rude, but I'm still relieved. "So can you finally tell me what happened?"

He still would never believe me. Especially him.

"Look," he continues. "You said that the other Bloods wouldn't believe you were going to say. Correct?"

I don't know what this has to do with anything. But I still nod my head.

"Well, they're gone. Now you can say what you need to without worrying about credibility."

"What about you?"

"Try me, Roseblood. I trust you."

Um, okay. That wasn't the response I expected—now or ever. But I guess I can tell him. It's not even that big of a deal. Or is it? Maybe what's big to me is small to him. It would make sense, right? Mother Earth, why am I so messed up today? At first I just wanted Aura to be kicked out, but now things just seem awkward. Adam is so tall and brooding and commanding, while I'm just...Pele. Who, mind you, can't even stay conscious after one semi-horrific event. And who isn't—

No. Pele, shut up. I take a deep breath. I'm not going to have a self-hate session in front of the Sparkblood heir. Never. Even my ego won't accept it. Elang would never allow me to get that low.

You got that right.

"Fine," I finally say. "Um..." I start to tell him an abridged version about finding Sey and the attack following. I'm trying to explain more on how Sey shifted—or whatever it was he did—but Adam interrupts me.

"How did you know to trap him?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said," he bites back. "What gave you the idea to make a giant bird cage?"

Oh. It seems a little stupid to say plants, even after everything I just told him. "It just came into my head," I lie.

Adam crosses his arms and gives me a harder than normal look that says he does not believe what I just said. "Are you sure? Because after what I just saw, and what the Airblood saw when she first came up to you, I doubt that."

I flinch. I can't help it, it's weird to be exposed just like that. Especially so quickly, like ripping off a bandage. And I'm not going to miss the fact that he just called me weak and doesn't think I can come up with a good idea. I can! Sometimes. Well, it depends on how great the idea actually is. If it's a really simple answer, than I can think it up. But anything too complicated is out of my pea-brained league. Wait, that's actually an overstatement; vegetable plants are a lot more clever than me.

He still doesn't have to be so blatant about it.

"Fine," I admit. "I, er, was told to do it. Kind of."

"Keep going."

"From a plant," I rush out. To my surprise, Adam doesn't say anything rude or self diminishing. Instead he orders me to tell him the rest. So I do, skipping over the part when I'm ambushed and most of my time at Fort Stone until I get to the tunnel part. When I get there, my hands get clammy and my breathing hitches. Great timing, panic. Absolutely perfect.

Pele, get yourself together! It isn't even a huge deal. You weren't hurt. In fact, you weren't even touched. Suck it up.

It's not that easy, common sense me.

Just calm yourself, my hawk coaches.

I can't. I'm nervous.

A hand places itself on the middle of my back. It's Adam, sitting right beside me.

"You're shaking," he says gently, his voice the softest I've ever heard of him. Which still sounds like my dad scolding me.

I nod shakily. "Sorry. I wasn't ever this nervous about the attack before. I haven't even really thought of it that much. It's funny how that happens, right? How people can just push things out of their heads until they think it's safe to think about it again. Well, I'm obviously not safe now, but you get what I mean, right?" I end with a small attempt of a laugh. Instead it sounds like a wobbly breath. It only makes me more than ready to die of embarrassment.

I take a few more breaths. In and out. In and out. God, I'm so nervous, but why?

Adams nods, as if he knows that I'm only telling him a half truth mixed in with the constant fright in the back of my mind. "I know what you're talking about," he says. Then he holds his hand up, splaying his fingers. "Here, look."

I raise my head and eye his hands. At first there's nothing, but then little orange sparks flare up in the shape of thin ribbons. They twirl to and fro, through finger gaps, up and down his wrists even. Something in me settles at the simple, aesthetic movements.

"Now," Adam says, his voice taking in a slow, melodic tone, "I am going to tell you a Sparkblood story. It's one that everyone knows of, but only few are aware of where it originated. It is called the Strongboy's Dilemma."