Chapter 45
Ani
He’s staring at me, eyes wide, and I suddenly understand how Eli feels as English words tumble out of my mouth to fill the void. “I didn’t know I could start over,” I rush to say. “Not like this.”
“You did not need to start over,” he says gently in English, ever ready to follow my lead. “You continued.”
I huff a small laugh. “That’s very poetic.”
“It is accurate.”
My fingers slide along one of his upper arms, feeling the strength there. Familiar now, known.
“When you thought about leaving,” I say quietly, “I was terrified you would.”
He doesn’t look away. “I know.”
“And I didn’t know how to ask you to stay without sounding like I was trying to own you.”
“You were not trying to trap me,” he says immediately. “You were afraid.”
“Yes. But not just of you leaving, but of you thinking of me as a mission you had from Ree.”
He shifts, propping himself slightly over me, one hand braced near my shoulder so he doesn’t press his full weight down. His other hand cups the side of my face.
“I do not stay from obligation,” he says.“I stay because I choose to.”
There it is again. Choice.
“You and your structural decision-making,” I murmur.
A faint smile touches his mouth, driving home just how much he has changed by being around me.
“I have been refining my phrasing,” he says, sass in his tone.
It makes me smile. I study him in the dim light, the steady calm of him, the way he looks at me like I am not a performance or a project or a temporary alignment of survival.
Just me.
“I love you,” I say again.
The words feel softer in English. Not dramatic. Not urgent. Just true.
One of his knuckles brushes just under my eye.
“I love you,” he sings, switching to his language so I can feel the resonance in my bones.
Each thrum telling me how much he means it. No hesitation. No qualification.
The nest creaks softly as he settles us into a more comfortable position, pulling me into him. I tuck my head beneath his huge chin, my wings settling instinctively around us like a shield.
His breath is slow and steady against my ear.
“You are my chosen permanence,” he murmurs into my hair, back to English again.
I smile against his skin.
“Good,” I whisper. “Because you’re mine.”
The wind moves through the leaves above us, and the treehouse sways gently in its cradle of branches.
Held, just like we hold each other
We fall asleep like that.
***
We’re sitting in the shallow cave that overlooks the lake when it comes up again.
Szhe’ka’s wings.
Or rather, the lack of them.
The cave is warm from the afternoon sun, the stone still holding heat.
Ree has spread maps—sketches, really—of the surrounding terrain across the flattest part of the rock floor.
Thivoll stands near the entrance, tail swaying lazily but eyes sharp.
Kroaicho leans in the shadows, listening, but also counting zhas hoard.
Olivia is closer now, warming to us more with each passing day, eager to discuss strategy, her sharp mind whirling faster than even mine, though in a much more linear fashion so she gets to an answer far quicker than I can.
I am so damn jealous, but the Bitch doesn’t even try to rise. She’s like a distant memory. That mask would have never drawn someone as suspicious as Olivia this close.
No. Our budding relationship has everything to do with who I am now… the real me.
My tongue is just as sharp, but I turn that weapon to my enemies now.
And we have plenty of them.
I’m sitting cross-legged beside Szhe’ka, my wings tucked tight against my back so I don’t knock over the charcoal Ree is using to mark paths.
“We need tech,” I say, staring at one of the rough drawings of the northern ridge. “If prosthetics are possible, then that’s not just a someday dream. That’s a plan.”
Szhe’ka goes very still beside me.
Thivoll snorts softly. “We will get him his wings, little human. First,” he says, voice low and practical, “we need more allies.”
I frown at him.
“And to kill more hunters,” he continues bluntly. “If we go searching for advanced tech now, we die. Right now, we need to keep building our strength.”
He’s not wrong.
I hate that he’s not wrong.
Ree glances between us. “We only have so many natural fighters here,” she says carefully.
“Szhe’ka is a fighter,” I point out.
He shifts beside me, feathers rustling. “Ani,” he starts.
“No.” I look at Ree first. “You’ve seen him. You’ve seen what he does when the hunters get close.”
Ree nods slowly. “He’s strong. But—”
“But what?” I push. “Because he can’t take to the sky right now, that means he doesn’t count?”
Thivoll’s tail flicks once.
Szhe’ka’s hand settles over mine. “I have a long way to go,” he says quietly.
I look at him. He’s not offended. Not defensive. Just honest.
“My balance is different without full wings,” he continues. “My strike angles are slower. I am still relearning how to use my body on the ground. In open combat, I would cost you.”
The words land heavy.
“You would never cost me,” I say immediately.
He squeezes my hand. “I am better positioned guarding,” he says. “At the cave. At the lake. Protecting what we build. Not chasing hunters into open terrain.”
It’s not self-pity. It’s strategy.
Ree nods. “He’s right. Defense is just as important as offense.”
Olivia shifts forward slightly. “We need more strongholds like this one. Places that don’t fall the second we leave them. Wroahk and the Many Teeth are what protect this one. We will need protectors for at least one more foothold so we can push north.”
Szhe’ka meets my eyes. “I can be that.”
He’s not giving up. He’s repositioning.
I inhale slowly. “Fine. We all have our roles. Mine will expand as soon as I learn to fly without crashing into rocks.”
A faint chuff escapes Thivoll.
“Chicken,” Ree blurts out, then cackles.
“Hey,” I protest. “That was one time.”
Szhe’ka brushes what’s left of his wing against mine.
Even grounded, he feels like the sky.
And I don’t intend to leave him behind.
“Back to strategy,” Olivia says, as laser focused as always. “I was thinking—”
Azoeul explodes into the cave like a storm given legs, interrupting her.
“The serpent requires assistance,” he says without preamble. “The Silver human is destabilizing.”
The words slice straight through the warmth.
Szhe’ka is already sitting up. I’m on my feet a heartbeat later, pulse spiking. “What happened?”
“Heart instability,” Azoeul replies in his even tone. “The serpent cannot regulate her alone.”
We’re moving before the echo of his voice dies, out of the cave and into the sharp daylight.
Ree doesn’t hesitate. She turns to us. “Kira. Ani. You’re flying me.”
My stomach drops.
Kira blinks. “Right now? Have you seen us fucking fly?”
“Yes,” she commands. “Immediately.”
Thivoll’s roar splits the clearing. “No.”
The sound shakes the leaves overhead.
Ree’s voice doesn’t rise. It sharpens. “We do not have time for ground travel.”
“I will carry you,” he growls.
“You will be too slow,” she fires back.
His jaw clenches. “This is reckless.”
She ignores him, stepping toward us. “Now.”
My heart is hammering but my body is already shifting into readiness. Kira swallows hard and moves to Ree’s left side. I take her right.
Thivoll steps in front of us, eyes blazing. “If she is injured—”
“We don’t have time for this,” Ree says, and there’s steel in every syllable. “Move, Thivoll.”
For a split second, I think he won’t. Then he steps aside with a growl that is more promise than surrender.
Kira and I hook our arms under Ree’s.
“On my count,” I say automatically, trying to ignore the fact that my palms are sweating. “One—two—”
We launch.
It is messy.
Ree is small, but dead weight shifts unpredictably in the air. Our first lift jerks sideways, wings colliding in uneven rhythm.
“Sorry!” Kira yells.
“Match me!” I shout back.
We wobble hard to the left. Ree’s grip tightens but she doesn’t panic.
Below us, Thivoll roars again, rage and fear tangled together.
“Stabilize!” Ree commands.
I force myself to breathe.
“Okay,” I snap. “Kira, shorten your downstroke. Watch my timing.”
“I am watching!”
“Then match it!”
Our eyes meet midair. No sarcasm. No bravado.
Just determination.
We adjust. Wingbeats thrum once, twice—
Then align.
Ree’s weight settles more evenly between us. I shift slightly to counter drag. Kira angles her shoulder to balance torque.
We are not graceful, but we are learning in real time.
Below, Thivoll’s furious, howling silhouette shrinks as we gain altitude.
“Hold steady,” Ree says.
Kira’s jaw is set. My teeth grind together in anxiety, but we figure it out mid-flight. Breath syncing, muscles adapting, instinct kicking in where fear wants to take over.
We keep ourselves aligned. We don’t drop her.
And we fly.