Chapter 19 #2
“I still need some fluffy leaves for the bouquet,” she says, sticking out her bottom lip. She looks around, now eyeing every single plant as if each one is harboring a deadly secret. “Is anything else going to paralyze me?”
“Paralyze, no. But see this red one?” I walk over to another bush and pluck a dark-red bloom.
“This is crimlock. If you dig up the root and then boil and drink it, it’ll give you the worst stomachache of your life.
” I flick the petals onto the ground and scan the other flower bushes. “I think the rest are safe.”
“Well, maybe stick close just in case,” she says shyly.
“Sure. I’d love to.”
“I was going to visit the aviary, too, if you want to join.”
“There’s an aviary here?”
Poppy’s face lights up. “Yes! It’s my favorite place on the entire mountain.”
We continue along the path for a few feet before she stops to pluck some thick green leaves.
“This should be good.” She tucks the bouquet inside her brown canvas shoulder bag. It swings at her side as she walks.
“So, tell me all the gossip,” I beg. “You must know everything that happens at the Dagger. Like…for example, who stole Mako’s gold chocolate? Do you think it was Raven?”
Her laughter sounds rusty, as if it’s not a sound she’s accustomed to making. “I have no idea, but I love his dedication to the mystery.”
“Same. Okay…what else…” I scan my brain. “Is Evlynne always such a quat?”
Poppy coughs out another laugh. “I guess I can see why you’d think that. Evlynne is tough. But I think you have to be when you get pregnant so young.”
My jaw drops. “Evlynne has a kid?” This is the first I’m hearing of it.
“Yeah. They live in the valley. His name’s Fisher, and she had him when she was nineteen. I think the baby’s father abandoned her. Or she left him? I shouldn’t say. I don’t actually know what happened.”
“Then the father’s not here?”
Poppy shakes her head. “I think he’s in the wards.”
I tuck that nugget of information away.
“So you knew Gray from the Command base?” she asks me. “I heard someone say that.”
“Yes. We became friends there, but I had no idea he was a Mod until I got here. Hell, I had no idea he was still alive, because the asshole faked his own death. We held a funeral for him.”
Poppy opens her mouth as if she wants to say something, but then her cheeks turn pink, and she shifts her gaze to the path ahead.
“What is it?” I push.
“Nothing. Just…” She gives a little shrug. “If you’re on for him, you could probably just wait it out.”
“Wait what out?”
“Nothing. I shouldn’t say anything.”
“No, tell me.”
“Karra cheats on him all the time.”
Whoa. Okay. I wasn’t expecting that.
“Does Gray know?” I ask with a frown.
“I think so. They’ve been on and off for years. I don’t think he’s that invested. He and Saint don’t really seem like relationship boys.”
Sounds about right, considering all the women I see sneaking out of Saint’s room every morning.
“How did Saint enter this conversation?” I tease, and Poppy ducks her head so I won’t see her blushing. It’s impossible not to. Her entire face is redder than crimlock. “Uh-oh. Does someone have a crush on Saint?”
“It’s not a crush. I just think he’s cute, that’s all.” She groans. “Whatever. Come on. The aviary is through here.”
I drop it because I’d like to be friends with this girl, and I don’t want her thinking I’m some jerk who’s going to relentlessly tease her about her crushes.
My eyes widen as Poppy opens the gate for us, because this is the last thing I expected to find on the mountain.
The aviary is a large enclosure tucked against a dense thicket of trees, its wire fencing nearly camouflaged by vines and foliage.
Clusters of trees provide shade for the birds, which are soaring from branch to branch, and there’s even a small rock pond running through the middle of the enclosure. Crystal-clear water and smooth stone.
“Wow,” I marvel. “You know, I’ve never actually seen an aviary before.”
“It’s more of a sanctuary. We take care of injured birds and—well, not ‘we,’ ” she corrects, blushing again. “Scarlett does all the work, but she lets me help out sometimes.”
We walk in, and I feel a sense of serenity as we’re surrounded by the sound of rustling leaves and the soft whisper of the breeze.
I hear the faint birdcalls, tweets, and chirps, various melodies that make me smile.
It reminds me of our clearing in the Blacklands where we spent three years.
The birds used to flock to the clearing because it offered one of the only sun pockets in the entire forest. They’d sit on branches and bask in the weak sunlight that penetrated the thick black mist.
In the center of the aviary sits a wooden structure, a hut really. The wood is sagging and gray, weathered after years in the elements, and half of it is covered with creeping vines.
“What’s in there?”
Poppy heads for the propped-open door. “Come see.”
Inside, the air is at least twenty degrees warmer and a hundred times more humid. I breathe in the scent of wood and straw, along with that earthy bird scent. About a dozen birds take up residence in the hut.
“This shelter is for the birds that don’t feel like flying. They’ll usually come in here and hide out,” Poppy explains.
I see sparrows and jays, and even a wren. The little brown bird is perched on a ledge against the wall.
I shift my gaze to the rafters, raising a brow. “Is that an owl?”
She nods. “Scarlett found him last month with a broken wing.”
I’ve encountered plenty of wild creatures in my life, both in the Blacklands and during a decade of ranching, but it’s eerie to see all these birds in one space. All perfectly content to be indoors.
A blue finch flutters over our heads and settles on the ledge across the room.
“Do you release them into the wild after they’re healed?”
“Most of them, yeah. Unless Scarlett thinks they won’t survive out there.
And some of them are just too stubborn to stay away.
Like Buttercup.” Poppy grins up at a fat yellow budgie.
“Every time we try to release her, she comes back. She’s stubborn.
They all have their own personalities.” The teen’s cheeks are flushed again, this time with excitement.
“See that raven over the door? That’s Didi.
She’s such a troublemaker. Constantly bullying the others. ”
I snort.
“And the sparrow at the window is Marvin. He thinks he owns the entire place. Super bossy.”
Without warning, the silent wren sails off her ledge and flies directly into my palm. I gape as she perches on the edge of my finger.
I turn to Poppy in amazement. “Do you think she knows my name is Wren?”
The teen stares at me for a second.
Then doubles over laughing.
“Of course she doesn’t,” Poppy sputters. “She’s a bird.”
Suddenly I’m howling, too, because…well…yeah. That was a stupid question. This is the first time I’ve felt relaxed enough to let down my guard and just break out in giggles, and we’re both panting by the time our laughter dies.
“I rescind the question,” I say primly. “Let’s pretend I didn’t reveal how gullible I can be.”
The bitchy raven—Didi—is now squawking and flapping her wings at Marvin the sparrow. She has way too much attitude for a bird. It’s impressive.
I extend my hand. “Want to hold her?”
Poppy’s smile fades. She shakes her head. “Not allowed to touch them. Scarlett’s rules.”
“Shit, then why did you let me?” I flick my finger, and the little wren flaps away, resettling on the window ledge.
We stand there for a moment, listening to the soft chirps and soothing fluttering of wings. These injured birds, flitting from one perch to another, the owl shuffling along the wooden beam along the ceiling…they seem so free, even here. Unburdened. I can’t remember the last time I felt unburdened.
“Do you come here every day?” I ask her.
“Not every day, but a lot.” She turns, and I follow her gaze out the window, where the mountain peaks loom in the distance, dark brown against a light-blue sky. “It’s peaceful. I can think here. Or when I’m gathering flowers. The quiet helps me clear my head.”
She hesitates, and I can tell she wants to keep going, so I encourage her with a smile.
“My mother is overprotective,” she finally says.
“I’ve noticed.”
“She’s too much sometimes.” Poppy’s features grow strained. “I can’t even leave the base for an hour without her linking with me, checking if I’m okay.”
Yeah, I noticed that, too. Her veins have been rippling on and off since we left the clearing. I assumed she was using telepathy, but her words confirm it.
“And the constant hugs and I love yous,” she moans. “It’s so suffocating—” She stops, visibly guilt-ridden. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“I won’t. And I understand. I can see how it gets annoying.
” I surprise myself by reaching for her hand, giving it a squeeze.
“And, well, I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings, they’re totally valid, but…
for what it’s worth…I would kill to have a mom, or any parent for that matter, who cared about me that much. ”
Poppy frowns. “You don’t have parents?”
“I was raised by my uncle. And trust me, he never hugged me. He did tell me he loved me, but very rarely.” I offer a shrug.
“Anyway, sometimes putting it into perspective helps. One day she might not be there to fuss over you, and I guarantee you’ll miss it.
” I glance around the little bird hut again, inhaling a deep breath.
“I get why you like it here so much. It really is peaceful. And it’s sort of a reminder, too. ”
“Of what?”
I gesture to the finches, who are now happily chirping to one another as if they’re having a real conversation. “Like, if these guys can be happy even with their broken wings and other injuries, if they can keep singing, then so can we. It reminds us to not let the world take away our joy.”
A soft smile tugs on her mouth. “I like that.”
The joy of our aviary excursion stays with me during the entire walk back to the Dagger. But the moment we near the air lock, a sharp female voice cuts through the air.
“Poppy.”
My good mood fades. It’s Fiona.
“Come here,” the older woman orders, beckoning her daughter with a stiff hand.
Poppy’s posture changes, her shoulders sagging just slightly. I don’t miss the way her bare arms glint in the sunlight. She’s communicating telepathically. I bet Fiona has a lot to say about seeing us together.
Sure enough, Poppy’s eyes shutter as she turns to me. “Thanks for the plant lessons.”
She’s gone before I can say goodbye.
Hawkins is waiting for me in the Temple, where we spend about an hour harnessing gold.
I’m making progress, my confidence growing after each training session.
As we sit in the ethereal blue shimmer of a daggerstone alcove, I feel the energy surging inside me, a silent current traveling underneath my skin.
I’m learning not to force it. To just slowly gather the gold dust.
Wrap it around my hands…
Let it build, thread after thread…
Just let it grow…
Today, I even feel it humming in my torso rather than staying isolated to my hands and arms. I keep breathing, slow, steady, letting the energy pulse through my veins.
For a moment, I’m tempted to incite Hawkins.
I bet I could if I tried. That’s how powerful the energy is right now.
But he didn’t agree to be incited, so I resist the temptation to push that boundary.
Afterward, when he announces the session is over, I don’t get up just yet. I fidget with my hands in my lap, biting my lip unhappily.
“Does it ever get to you?” I ask before he can go.
“Does what get to me?”
“Having people fear you because you can incite.”
He shrugs. “You get used to it.”
“Before I came to meet you, I was out walking with Poppy. When we got back here, Fiona practically dragged her away from me like I was a carrier for an Old Era plague. I get that Fiona hates inciters. But…I don’t know. It hurts that some people don’t trust me.”
“Of course they don’t. There’s no way for them to protect themselves from you.”
“They don’t need to,” I object.
“My advice? Stop trying to make anyone like you. Find a fucking hobby or something.”
“Is that what you do? Distract yourself with a hobby?”
It hasn’t gone unnoticed by me that he spends every single meal alone, except for the rare times Kallister eats in the mess hall.
I suspect Kallister feels bad for the guy, because he always invites Hawkins to eat with him.
Every time I see their veins rippling in telepathic conversation, I wonder what on earth they talk about.
Hawkins is the least affable person I know.
“I suppose,” he answers. “I hike. I fly.”
“Like planes?”
He gives me a look that says, Are you a total imbecile?
“Sorry, dumb question.” God, this guy makes me nervous. “I didn’t realize you were a pilot.”
“Not officially or anything,” he mutters. “None of the mission leads would ever work with me.”
“Oh.” I feel a twinge of sympathy for him.
“But I enjoy it. Sometimes I get special permission from Kallister to take an aircraft out. If it’s not in use or whatever.”
For a moment, I’m silenced by hesitation, until I can no longer fight my curiosity. “I heard a rumor that you incited someone by accident.”
His expression turns to stone, but I’ve already opened this door. Might as well keep going.
“Your girlfriend…Zoe, right?”
He keeps staring.
“She fell off the Ledge?”
That gets me a quick nod.
“And you were arguing when it happened? That happened to me once,” I confess.
“With my uncle. I was furious with him for dragging me out of a party with my friends, so I shouted for him to turn the truck around and accidentally incited him. We were nearly crushed to death.” A shaky breath slips out of my throat. “It scares me.”
“What does?” His voice is gruff.
“Having this power that I can’t control. Knowing that my emotions might trigger me to incite someone to do something dangerous. Something that hurts them or, worse, kills them.”
“Then learn to control it.”
“Is that possible? To fully control it?”
Before he can answer, my device beeps. I pull it out to find a message from Gray.
Fancy a flight?