Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
Atlas
“How much time do we have?” I ask.
I’m asking how much time Rafe has. How long until his body begins the transition process again?
“Not long?” Master Pugstone says, turning to Master Lychen. “A week ago, it was as much as a day between. But that has accelerated.”
“It has been four hours since his last transition,” Master Lychen confirms. “I believe it will be less time than that.”
“Well, that is no time at all,” I growl, rising with Violet still in my arms.
“I have alerted Darkan, Galeor, and Lark,” Aldric informs me. “I was sleeping during the reign of Arimeed, who was not even valiant. But my instincts tell me that all griffins should be at the eyrie. We have no active engagements.”
Just another layer of risk.
“Bring them all back. Ensure our other forces and the other eyries are alert to our absence.”
I address the room, calling forward the head servant who waits by the door.
Rafe must be moved. The Sundial Chamber prepared in accordance with the lore. Darrion, Fenix, and Lark are to report the moment they arrive. Our ground forces are to be notified, as well as the other eyries who have pledged their support.
With Violet in my arms, I stride from the room.
Violet
Atlas carries me the whole way. I am barely aware of our passage along corridors beyond I do not know this part of the eyrie. My intellect has gotten lost somewhere between a universal worry for Rafe and worry that what we seek to do will not be enough.
And time. I feel it ticking with every beat of my heart. He is stable for now, but none of us can really know for how long that will last… when his next transition will begin.
Beyond that, there is the war. My cursed sister and her allies stalk these lands, hurting the innocents.
I tell myself her being here has nothing to do with me, yet the connection still gnaws at me.
Shame. Blame. The old guilt rising that perhaps, somewhere along the way, I might have done or said something that would have changed her for the better.
If only I had stayed. If only I had tried harder. Perhaps she would not be here at all.
I rouse from my rumination as two grand double doors with a depiction of the sun on them are swept open by the servants who hurry ahead of us.
Atlas strides inside and comes to a stop. Our silent collective, which includes both scholars, their assistants, and a veritable army of servants, two of whom bear Rafe’s litter, likewise comes to a stop.
Rafe remains quiet and seemingly at peace. He sleeps deeply in the wake of a change, and I’m relieved he shows no sign of distress from being moved.
“I had forgotten how imposing the room is,” Master Pugstone says, breaking the silence.
Which is when I lift my eyes from Rafe and take in where we are.
Put simply, the room is spectacular. It feels as though it has been set upon the very crown of the eyrie.
A great circular chamber crafted from black iron and glass rises around us, the roof a vast glass dome that bathes the space in muted light.
The panes carry a faint amber tint, softening the harsh glare of the morning sun.
Beneath our feet, buff-colored stone forms a beautiful spiral pattern that draws the eye toward the very center of the room. To the north side, opposite the double doors through which we entered, stands an imposing sundial—easily twice the height of a man—its slender shadow cast across the stone.
“In the center,” Atlas says, breaking the spell.
My eyes shift to Atlas. Servants move around us, but I get lost in the commanding man who bears the mantle of leadership in ways more noble than a king wearing a crown.
I take in the strong column of his throat, his handsome face, and the intense nature of his strange silver eyes.
They lower as though sensing my study and rest upon me.
This man can leave me breathless with a mere look.
He is arresting, utterly controlled, and a little unbending at times.
But he is also an easy man to follow and to trust in.
His people love him not because he is kind or good, although he has those qualities too, but because they believe he is fair and just, because he can and will make the hard decisions that are sometimes necessary for the greater good.
I admire him. He is as easy to admire as he is to love.
“I love you.”
His eyes widen.
I smile. I have shocked this unshakable man, it would seem.
Then his lips curve into a smile. “As I love you, my mate and soon-to-be Queen.” His smile drops and the intensity is back in his look. “I would break the world for you were it necessary to keep you safe.”
I believe him.
A part of me feels unworthy of this devotion, and yet another part decides I will lean on his strength and give him back the different kind of strength I harbor and all my love.
By silent cue, he gently lowers me to my feet.
“We must prepare,” he says, turning to the expectant scholars and waiting servants.
“Ancient rituals require ceremony. I would have nothing overlooked that might interfere with what is to come. In this, you and our scholars are ahead of me. Tell me. Guide me, so nothing is missed and nothing is left to chance.”
And so orders are made and put into motion.
“Are you ready?” Atlas asks of me. Like the room, I need to prepare, to bathe, and to change. A small cluster of attendants wait to take me away.
I center upon the memory of a young girl who read many books, who dreamed of griffins, and who will today become their Queen. Who understands love and how fragile and precious it is. Who would give all of it up in a heartbeat if only Rafe would wake up.
We have one shot at this.
For Rafe. For the people of the eyrie. For Acton Trussell and the many towns and villages that make up this community.
For the first time since I was dropped onto a stony platform by a griffin, and through all the wild days that followed, I am not as a lost princess seeking escape in a myth I once read in a book… but as a Queen in waiting.
They are my people now. Their fight is mine.
“I am,” I say.