Chapter 58
I smash through the frozen crust of my lake, chased by a heavy presence whomping through the water—herding me toward the surface.
Or maybe she’s not herding me at all, but simply following. Perhaps hoping that if she gets close enough that I’ll be forced to stop, turn around, and communicate.
Absolutely not.
Not even if she bit down on my foot and shook me half to death … though I’d rather she didn’t.
Creators, what if I just gave her the idea?
Shivers scuttle up my spine.
I swim harder, faster. Punch free of the lake and clamber across my shore, into my outer self faster than I ever have.
My eyes pop open.
Heaving breath, I check that I’m still in the slumber nook, relieved to find no shreds of meat caught between my teeth or blood slathered on my hands. Hopefully signs my Other didn’t go on a murderous rampage while I was getting emotionally beat up at her trauma trade station.
“Creators,” I mutter, kneading my face with the heels of my hands, stuffing down visions of somber folk staring out across a crumbled mountainside—past the obsidian peaks of a buried village.
Silencing echoes of a devastating song pushed from young Elluin’s lips as she stood beside an unfamiliar, powerfully built male with hair as black as mine who looked down on her with reverence.
A song used to shift the crumbled glacier in slow-moving increments, revealing the broken village beneath—
The many folk who did not make it out alive.
Most of all, I stuff down the swell of pride my Other felt as she stood at little Elluin’s back, watching her sing until her legs gave out … hoping to find even a single survivor amongst the snowy carnage.
I sigh, digging my fingers through my hair.
There’s nothing quite like choking on the aftertaste of martyrdom while preparing to hack a heart from someone’s chest cavity.
At least the trade was sufficient.
My arms flop to the pallet, jostling a piece of parchment. Frowning, I snatch it and scan Kaan’s script, feeling my heart sink past my belly button.
Creators … How long did I sleep?
Seems deep-diving into my internal lake has its disadvantages. Like missing important shit I’d usually wake up to.
Groaning, I burst into action. I fasten my white leather pants, securing the matching jacket beneath my chin when I notice my white cloak draped on the hooked seater that dominates the room, the faintest hint of something luminous glinting from beneath.
I still. Then move faster than I ever have.
Whipping back the cloak, I’m doused in a wave of brisk air that makes my skin pebble, squinting at the small silver moonshard—no bigger than four fists lumped together. Shimmery.
Beautiful.
A cold ache swells between my ribs.
He did it. He got it.
The backs of my eyes sting with such ferocity I squeeze my lids together—hard.
Wait until the flare of pain subsides before I open them again, beating back the urge to touch the shard’s jagged edges.
To caress the smooth dip that looks a lot like the ridge of a wing.
To take it in both my hands, pull it to my chest, and ball around it like a moon.
If I do any one of those things … I’m not sure I’ll be able to part with it again.
Instead, I release a slow breath and drape my cloak back on the shard, gently tucking it into place. I turn away, ignoring the shudder that crawls up my spine—achingly similar to the feeling I had while I was rushing back to the surface of my internal lake.
Not now.
I’m not ready to face that yet.
Jaw clenched, I get to buckling both sheaths around my thighs and stuff them full of blades, as well as all the hidden pockets in my pants and jacket. I wrap a dark shroud around the lower half of my face, just moving to the stairwell when I come across my muddy boots on the ground beside it.
Not where I left them.
I pull down my shroud, eyes narrowed on the pink feather—no bigger than the pad of my thumb—pinched between the laces. The soft sort of down found in the bowl of a Moltenmaw’s nest, cushioning a clutch of eggs.
A heavy sense of dread settles on my shoulders, my gaze shifting to where the moonshard is hidden to Kaan’s note tucked amongst my sheets … back to the lone feather decorating my Creators-damn boot.
“Fuck.”
“They left a while ago. I doubt you’ll catch them, even if you run.”
I whip around, finding Roan at the top of the twirled wooden stairway that leads to the upper level, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Still dressed in his muddy clothes, as though he finished his protégé location device, passed it off to Kaan, scaled the stairs, then flopped straight on a pallet and passed out.
“Oh,” I murmur, mind occupied with thoughts of Kaan’s note …
Once I’m back, we need to talk.
Seven small words never felt so ominous.
Shoving that mental sinkhole aside for later, I stab my foot in my boot and jerk my chin at the closed curtains. “Where’s the aurora?”
“Sank a while ago. It’s midslumber, perhaps?” Roan yawns so wide I see his molars. “They left just after it fell.”
A strike of luck. Hopefully the patrol is scarce where I’m headed and Sereme sleeps through the entire ordeal.
I’m just knotting my second bow when Roan’s voice cracks the stewing silence. “You’re, ahh … You’re not leaving to find them, are you?”
“I’m not the rescuing type,” I mutter, hoping the words echo all the way down into my Other’s icy den. Shave off that layer of expectation that I’m anything like the little girl she once doted on. “I’ll be back.”
I charge down the stairway, don my black, muddy cloak, then whip up my hood, snatching two vials of elixir from the shelf. I pocket one and smash the other against the wall, revealing the luminous litter of runes that keep the door hidden.
It gulps open, exposing me to the mist-laden world beyond, plagued with a scatter of parchment larks bouncing about in confused circles, trying to regain their bearings.
Poor things.
Everything is smudged in so much white it feels like I’m stepping into a croaking, buzzing cloud—two steps forward when the door glugs back into place at my back.
I’m just digging into my pants pocket for Sereme’s note when the atmosphere turns cold and frigid. An eerie silence settles, like all the little bugs and reptiles just upped and vanished.
Even the confused larks scatter.
There’s a shift in the air, making the hairs on my arms lift. My lips twist into a smile.
I scan the dense fog, waiting …
Before me, a large shape illuminates—wings stretching. Gloomy eyes blink open, so close my breath snags.
My smile grows as I reach up to rub the sloped span between Líri’s eyes, pulling my lungs full of her wild, musky scent.
She snuffs, blasting brisk air against my cheek before nuzzling into my abdomen. A plea blooms in my chest like an icy bud; her determined desire to come with me.
I sigh, running my fingers through the tendrils hanging from her jowls, figuring it’s misty enough that she’ll basically blend with the scenery.
“Okay,” I whisper as she tilts her head, nudging forward, almost pushing the breath from my lungs.
Request for a scratch beneath the jaw. “But only because you’ve proven just how quiet you can be. ”
That, and I’m certain she’s only pretending I have a choice in the matter.