Bridges Burned (Going Down in Flames #2)(71)

Bryn climbed the half flight of stairs and came to a small room with a pitched ceiling. Her breath caught in her throat. Pictures of her parents when they were still in school were tacked onto a makeshift bulletin board. She crossed the space and traced her fingers over the photos of her dad smiling with such love she had no doubt it was her mom taking the picture, and photos of her mom grinning like she was the happiest woman in the world. Under the photos there was a stack of books. Bryn picked one up and recognized them as part of the Legends series from the library, about a time when dragons could fall in love and marry without Directorate interference.

She opened the top book, unpinned the pictures, and carefully slid the photos between the pages to keep them safe. A piece of paper fell out of the book. She picked it up and saw a familiar circle divided into four sections, each section containing a triangle…the symbol for rebellion. She flipped through the pages in the remaining books, hoping to find more notes. But there was nothing. Had her mother drawn the symbol because she’d seen it somewhere, or did it mean something else? She could imagine her mother sitting up here, reading about people falling in love and fantasizing about running away. Now that she’d met her grandparents and lived in this world, she realized what courage it had taken for her mom and dad to do what they did. She was proud of them.

It was nearing dinnertime. Bryn decided to take the books and photos and hide them in her room. Not that she should have to hide them, but if her mom had taken the trouble to do so, she felt like she should continue the tradition. There might be other photos of her mom in the house, but she’d yet to see any, and her grandmother had never offered to show her where they might be kept. So she wanted to keep these photos safe. The drawing didn’t seem like something she should carry around. Since it had belonged to her mother, she wouldn’t feel right throwing it away. Instead, she slid the piece of paper behind the bulletin board.

She made it back to her room without encountering anyone. She used a damp cloth to clean the dust from the books, and then she put them in her book bag. If asked, she could say they came from the library, not that she expected anyone to go through her bag. Once that was done, she changed and freshened up before going to dinner.

During dinner, she listened to her grandmother talk about details for the Christmas Eve ball. She did her best to smile and nod in all the right places. If her reactions were off, her grandmother didn’t seem to notice.





Chapter Twenty-Seven


While she’d dreaded Christmas Eve for the sadness it would bring, she was grateful when it finally arrived. The ball could be fun. At least she’d see other people.

Bryn checked her reflection in the full-length mirror. The strapless emerald gown her grandmother had bought her fit like a glove, but not in a skanky way. It skimmed over her curves, looking like it had been made for her.

The dress was good. Her red, blond, and black-streaked hair? That was another story. Pick a color, any color. Per her grandmother’s request, she planned to tone down her hair for the big event. What color should she choose?

All the guests at the ball would be other members of the Blue Clan, which meant they’d all be blond. Once again, she wouldn’t blend. Would it be worth the consequences to use Quintessence to stripe her hair red and green? Probably not. She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed.

Every guest at the ball would be craning their neck to see if the Sinclairs’ granddaughter was up to their standards. And the answer to that question would be a great big fat no. She didn’t have their manners, which Jaxon delighted in pointing out to her. She didn’t have their grace, which is why she opted for silk ballet flats rather than the heels her grandmother favored. What she did have was a screw-all-of-you attitude and the ability to roast anyone who pissed her off.

Though it might be better to save those extremes as a last resort. For now, she’d deal with her hair. Just to see what it would look like, she colored her hair platinum blond. With her fair complexion, she looked anemic. Option number two, she switched back to her original strawberry blond. Too boring.

She returned her hair to red and blond stripes without the black stripes. There, she’d given up one color for her grandmother. That would have to be enough.

A knock sounded on her bedroom door.

“Come in.”

Her grandmother entered looking regal in an ice-blue gown that matched her eyes.

“You look beautiful.” Bryn meant it.

Her grandmother gave a genuine smile. “Thank you. You look lovely as well.” Her gaze traveled to Bryn’s hair. “I see you reduced your hair coloring to two. Maybe you could pick one for this evening?”

“I tried. Nothing looked right. I did get rid of the black for you.”

“For that I’m grateful.” Her grandmother tilted her head. “With your coloring, you should go for a darker blond. Give it a try for me. If you don’t like it, you can change it back.”

Why not? She focused and shifted her hair color to a dark honey blond. The image in the mirror surprised her. It worked.

“What do you think?” her grandmother asked.

If it had been her idea, she’d like it more. “It works, but…” How to phrase this without ticking her grandmother off? “I don’t want people to think I’m trying to be something I’m not. Does that make sense?”

Her grandmother walked forward and touched the hair on Bryn’s right temple. “Add a red streak here.”