2. Isla
2
ISLA
I knew Glace was far, but for some reason, I didn’t realize just how far .
I’ve been traveling for hours, and still, there’s no shadow of land on the horizon. Although I love flying, I don’t love doing it alone. What I wouldn’t give for Lachlano’s company.
Not only is Agrippina and Reid’s son my best friend—along with Naeva and Elio—but he’s also the most entertaining person I know. One who never runs out of stories, since he loves adventure just as fervently as I do.
Multicolored scales shred the surface of the ocean beneath me. I drift lower to see whether the serpents are tardy partygoers like myself or true water beasts. Unlike us Crows, Serpent shifters are barely distinguishable from their beastly counterparts. Well, female Serpents. Male Serpents are so large, there’s no mistaking them.
After surfing over them for a while, I deduce they’re animals. I’m still well and truly alone on this journey.
Lach? I call out through the mind link, just in case he’s in feathers.
He mustn’t be, because I get no reply. Another hour slinks by in silence. Fatigue nibbles on my muscles and slows my pace. Did I start off too strong? Probably.
I peer ahead of me, my heart pouncing when I spot a speck of white on the horizon. Unfortunately, it’s not attached to any landmass. However, the free-floating iceberg injects me with renewed vigor since it’s not the sort of thing that bobs in our warm oceans.
Over the next hour, I call out to Lachlano a handful of times.
Finally, his voice echoes between my temples. Isla?
I need a dress.
Did you undergo a dramatic growth spurt overnight, or are we just listing random wishlist items? ’Cause if we are, I need better gloves.
I snort. I need a dress for the Jubilee, smartass.
You’re…you’re coming? Shock and glee brightens his tone.
Sure am. Keep my arrival under wraps, though. It’s a surprise.
Who are we surprising?
My parents.
Can I tell Naev?
Yes, but swear her to secrecy.
A few minutes later, he says, She says Asha packed her several extras.
I love Asha.
As he gives me directions to Naeva’s suite, my stomach churns with anticipation. And nerves.
So. Many. Nerves.
On the upside, it makes my long flight wink right by and camouflages the ache developing between my wing bones. For a while, at least.
As the minutes melt into even more hours, my wing flapping becomes almost nonexistent. Like the small gulls below, I ride the whistling northern wind. Twice, I almost end up in the surf but miraculously manage to power myself back into the sky. When I hit a cold front, I think I’ve arrived, but no such luck.
The progressively frostier air bites into my aching bones and hardens my joints until I think I might not make it to Glace. I’m about to cave and reach out to my father for succor—consequences of my impromptu coming be damned—when strokes of white and emerald-green appear on the endless carpet of blue.
I blink to make sure it’s not a mirage. As the line of land expands, I alternate between disintegrating into smoke and beating my wings, wishing I could retain my discorporate form for as long as my father.
Once I breach the capital’s walls, I examine the Korol’s underground castle, counting the domed skylights to Naeva’s room.
Was it first from the ocean, or from the mountain?
Lach?
He must be back in skin since I get no answer. I scroll through our earlier conversation. I believe he said from the mountain. As I land, patrolling guards in thick fur-lined coats survey me with guarded stares. One of them says something, but my eardrums are so stiff, his words bounce right off.
“I’m King Ríhbiadh’s daughter!” I call out. “Just joining my family.”
Brushing aside my snarled hair, I split my finger on my spiky hoop, then adorn the skylight with the circle fitted through with a cross, which I’ve perfected thanks to it being a symmetrical design. My palm sinks through the glass.
I try to morph into my shadows, but my shifter magic fails me, and I hurtle into the bedroom below with all the grace of a potato. Ugh, Lach. You could’ve warned me the palace was warded.
I suppose that if I lived in an underground palace, I’d have warded my ceilings as well. At least I landed on a bed. For a moment, I lay there, reveling in the plushness of the duvet that espouses muscles I didn’t even know I possessed before making this trip.
How I envy the others who’ve all had a day to recover from the strenuous journey. Not that most need a day. I imagine it took my father and grandfather all of a minute to recover. Lachlano, undoubtedly, too, seeing as he’s a beast of endurance.
I close my eyes briefly but then spring them wide to keep myself from dozing. I raise my sore arms over my head and stretch, all at once groaning and whimpering from the delicious strain, then proceed to peel my carcass off the bed. My shoulders and arms are so stiff that I almost cry when I twist onto my side to scrape myself off the cushy comforter.
When I finally succeed at sitting, I take a moment to peer around the giant bedchamber that puts our guest quarters to shame. Then again, Crows aren’t ostentatious like Fae. We do not gild our ceilings or carve pretty florals into them. We do not lay boards on our floors, especially not in a decorative pattern. And though some of us do rub charcoal and chalk over our stone walls, our art is neither ornately framed nor brimming with color—it’s subdued and neat.
A smile flips up the corners of my mouth as I picture the expression my father must’ve worn and the words he must’ve uttered upon entering his borrowed suite, which I imagine is glitzier than Naeva’s. Dádhi loathes extravagance just as fervently as Mádhi adores it. I took after her, to Phoeppa’s immense relief.
My thoughts dissolve as a cloud of eucalyptus hits me. Could that be…?
I sweep my legs off the bed and trail the scent to a bathroom tiled in gold and white stone. When I catch sight of a fogged door, one that will lead into a steam chamber, I give thanks to the architect for kitting visitor bathrooms with steam chambers, and to the Korol family for sparing no expense.
I rip my boots off my feet and all but tear my clothes off, then snatch a towel from a rack, secure it around my torso, and pop the door open with a cheery, “You’ve officially become my favorite person.”
When neither laughter nor a reply reaches me, I squint, trying to spot my cousin through the pale plumes that are so dense I cannot discern my own toes.
I take a careful step forward, my gaze sharpening when, over the hiss of water, I catch the rhythmic thud of a heartbeat. Someone’s in here with me, but it’s not Naeva. Her pulse wouldn’t drill the steam.
I’m about to call out Lachlano’s name and tell him that if he’s planning on spooking me, he will regret it, or at least, his cock will—but then the steam moves…thickens.
Only an air-Fae can manipulate the element. Before I can make myself one with the steam, an arm locks around my throat.
And then a deep, pissed-off voice bends into my ear. “I’m no one’s favorite person.”