Chapter 5 #2
“It sounded pretty right,” Sybil says saucily. “And you gave very detailed descriptions at the time.”
I can’t help smiling. Of course I did. Kellan was my first love, my first—and only—lover, and Sybil is my best friend.
“It was great,” I admit. “I just didn’t want what he wanted in the end.”
“Which might be why Kellan can’t get over it.”
I bite my lip, slowly rolling it between my teeth.
That—and the fact that we’re still stuck together, day in and day out.
We both chose to stay with the Elite Wing, even after the breakup and all the ensuing resentment and unease.
If we’d gone our separate ways, things would probably be different.
Kellan would’ve moved on, and I could’ve stopped feeling irritated and guilty when nothing terrible even happened—no lying or cheating or violence.
I just broke his heart. “I wish he would get over it.”
“Me too—especially for his sake. A dragon shifter’s life is long.”
Sybil pours me a glass of water from the pitcher at my bedside, then pours herself one too.
She leaves mine where it is, within easy reach of my cocoon of pillows, and sips from her glass as she sits back.
Dehydration is an aftereffect of healing magic, and I worry sometimes that she doesn’t put the same effort into taking care of herself as she does into taking care of me.
“But if he’s not the one, he’s not the one.” She shrugs, draining half her glass. Then slyly, with interest she can’t hide sparkling in her eyes, she asks, “What’s this about Bale chomping straight through a weretiger to rescue you?”
Tension rips across my chest. I don’t answer right away, seeing it all in my mind again. Those burning amber eyes. That precise, deadly spiral. The brutal bite.
Goose bumps splash over me, but the sudden shiver feels hot and settles heavily at the base of my spine.
“He got there just in time.” My pulse beats hard, pushing a flush I can feel to my face.
“That’s it? That’s all you’re giving me?” Her expression begs for more, and my take-it-or-leave-it shrug makes her huff, incredulous. “He came, he killed, I lived?”
“That’s all there is to say.” I don’t want to bring up how Bale praised me, even when I nearly got Fyrestar and myself killed, or how he hesitated to let Kellan carry me home. There could be a hundred reasons for that.
“Your bright-red blush begs to differ,” she says tartly.
I heat even more, and my heart gives a nervous thump against my ribs.
Sybil is the only person to ever guess at my secret crush, but I’ve never confirmed it, even when she fishes for information.
I don’t want to admit it to anyone. Maybe I don’t even want to admit it to myself, because there’s nothing more stupid I can think of than getting involved with my king, the leader of the Elite Wing, and the man who holds the fate of my birds.
As much as I call the three of them mine, in truth, they’re also Bale’s.
I turn my attention to Fyrestar to avoid Sybil’s probing gaze.
His everlife heals him of his injuries much faster than any human magic could heal mine.
It also brings him back from the dead—something unique in Ellonrift, at least if magic endures.
I can’t imagine how many years Bale must’ve shaved off his own long life to put that gift into the warbirds.
I know he did it with the help of a human sorcerer, a woman long since dead.
The talented witch lived in lavish comfort here in Drayke Mountain for her remaining years, and I’m glad she did. “You okay, old friend? All healed?”
“Who are you calling old?” Fyrestar ruffles his feathers, but a soft coo follows the protest, negating its heat.
“If you’re old, then I’m old, so I should watch my words.” I’m roughly the same age as the warbirds of Torridaig, but since they’ve all burned back to their primal lifespark at least once, including Fyrestar, I’m their elder by far. “And I take it that means you’re fine?”
“Fit as a dragon, but it took three days.”
I gape at him. “Three days?” I whip toward Sybil, straining the tender skin on my back. “How long was I asleep?”
I don’t like the way she shifts in her chair. “A while…”
My eyes narrow. “Three days is a lot longer than it should take a warbird to heal.” Too long. It makes me want to reach into the night sky, pull down the Star of Ellonrift, and shake the magic out of her. “How long was I unconscious?”
She reluctantly answers, “Five days.”
I snap my mouth shut. This prolonged lack of Cealastra’s magic-replenishing eclipses is affecting us all now. Going by past experiences, healing should’ve taken a day for Fyrestar and a maximum of three for me.
Rim lifts his head, his tawny eyes reflecting my worry back at me. The phoenixes all have amber eyes like their maker, except for Fyrestar. His golden eyes match mine. “Embersol hopped around in Fyrestar’s feathers from dawn till dusk,” he mutters. “I’m sure that didn’t help.”
Sol chirps. “Not hop. Comfort.”
My heart melting, I smooth her little feathers as she heats with indignation, fluffing out her wings to puff herself up.
Sybil’s soft chuckle ends the budding quarrel. “I love watching you talk to your birds.”
I smile over at her. “Thanks for being patient. It must be strange to only hear half the conversation.” Scolding a little, I tell my birds, “You could let Sybil hear what you say, you know. She’s family too.”
Sybil just laughs again before the phoenixes can respond. “Don’t worry about it. They only have eyes for you, and it’s become a bit of a game for me to try to guess what’s going on. I hear one part and try to fill in the blanks.”
“But they’re much more interesting than I am,” I protest.
Her dry look could send Torridaig into drought. “Idallia, my dear, you highly underestimate yourself.”
“Okay, I’m fabulous,” I say just as dryly.
Instead of the smile I expect, she shakes her head, looking irritated.
“Why do you always say things like that? You are fabulous. And yet all you can see is that you’re different.
Who am I? What am I?” She looks upset, even angry, and I go utterly still, staring at her in shock.
We don’t fight. We never have. I make sure of it, because I don’t want to regret some stupid argument when she’s gone and there’s no going back.
“So what if you don’t know who your parents are, or why you can’t shift or glamour or do whatever else people do in Ellonrift?
Your dream has been to fit in, but maybe it’s better to stand out. Just be you.”
“Oh, it sure was fun standing out at school.” I don’t want this to escalate, but my anger is rising, too, along with the memories of being ostracized, tormented, and ridiculed. And before that, I was simply alone.
“Who cares about school? That was nearly two centuries ago.” Sybil swipes her hand through the air, making the water still in her glass slosh to the rim.
“You’re always wondering why Bale chose you for the final position on the Elite Wing.
It’s because he’s smart, and he’s got an eye for what he needs. ”
I snort. “He didn’t need me. I know I can fight—and fight well—but a dragon shifter can literally chomp a weretiger in half with one bite. It’s not the same.”
“What about Bloodwold vampires?” Her hard look pins me in place. “Firebreath doesn’t kill them like it used to, and fights come down to people and their blades. That makes you the best.”
Sometimes. When I can release that thunderclap inside me and focus my senses, moving so fast that I streak through the air. Unfortunately, it doesn’t happen on command. Or often, at all.
I blink and see blood splattering across a moonlit sky. There are severed heads on the ground. Everything is dark and there are no specific landmarks, so I don’t know if the sudden flash is something old, or something still to come. “Not better than Bale,” I mutter.
She waves a hand again, this time more careful of the water in her glass.
Her ire seems to wash away with the movement, her features softening once more.
“It’s not just about someone who can fight.
Bale Cinderheart has legions of soldiers all over Torridaig for that.
You unify. The Elite Wing fights hard for each other, and for all of us, but do you know who they’ll fight for the hardest? ”
“Bale,” I say automatically.
She shakes her head. “You. They’ll slash, burn, and claw through anything to make sure you live through a fight. That means they win. Always and no matter what.”
I stare at her, my stomach sinking. “No wonder I almost always end up in the middle of the formation. They’re bodyguarding me.” Especially Maia and Arran. There’s no way Arran couldn’t regularly take a more prestigious position if he tried.
“No, don’t think of it that way. And it’s not as if you can’t hold your own in a fight.”
“Oh, great. So I’m a cause?”
“Stop taking this all wrong,” she grumbles, setting her glass down with a thump.
Her gaze shifts to the birds on my bed. “And your phoenixes? It’s not like with the others, either.
They’re friends, allies, companions. But you four…
You’re fused in this circular mix of parent and child.
I don’t know who’s who half the time, but you’re a family. ”
Emotion jerks inside me, a rope pulling tight and anchoring me to my phoenixes. Rita and Gerard might’ve let me go without a backward glance, but I stopped caring the second my birds replaced them and offered a thousand times more than they ever did. “And?” I ask, the word a little shaky.
“If you want to label it—fine,” Sybil says. “You’re their cause. Just like they’re yours.”
They are, aren’t they? My birds. My team. There’s no length I wouldn’t go to. I would burn down worlds.
I exhale loudly, shaking my head. “I’m five times your age. How are you so wise?”
“Let’s not exaggerate. More like four and a half.” She grins. “And humans mature faster. We have to. We have fewer years.”
I sink into my bed, thoroughly depressed again. I see Sybil wither and fade before my eyes. I refocus my gaze and she’s back to normal, but I can’t help thinking that half her life is already gone, and at least half my time with her is already spent.
Trying to hide my sudden sadness, I ask, “How’s Stuart?
” They found each other here, after Bale recruited them both decades ago.
Sybil joined the ranks of Drayke Mountain’s prestigious healers, and Stuart has magical gifts that come in handy all the time.
He has a touch of foresight, like me, and he’s particularly good at dampening fae magic, which makes it harder for the fae to hoodwink anyone here with their cunning wiles.
When a powerful fae puts their full magic into it, they can probably convince anyone to do anything, including Bale.
“Stuart’s worried about you,” she says. “When you arrived on Kellan’s back, you gave us both a scare. We figured it must be dire.”
I laugh even though my heart’s not really in it. “I guess it was.” Five days. That’s terrifying. And three for Fyrestar worries me even more.
Sybil stands, stretching after what was probably a long, chilly day of keeping vigil at my bedside.
She should’ve lit a fire in the hearth, even if I almost never do.
“I need to get back to the infirmary. I’ve hardly been there in days, and it’s probably chaos by now.
We have a whole slew of new recruits who are either terrified after leaving home for the first time or flirting wildly with anything that moves.
I’m not sure which is worse, but no one seems to be studying their spells. ”
I find a real laugh this time. “Aren’t you glad you’re head healer now? You get to do all the fun stuff, like endless scroll keeping and wrangling horny teenagers.”
She levels a bland look at me. “You still give me plenty of real challenges.”
She’s got me there. “Thanks for everything.” I pluck at my blanket. “For staying, and bringing me food…”
“Always.” She flashes a cheeky grin, whispering, “On Kellan’s back!” to me just before she turns and walks to the door.
I half-groan, half-laugh, and she chuckles on her way out, leaving me alone with my birds. My smile widens. Everly would’ve kissed my cheek, fussed a little, and tucked my sheets around me, but Sybil has always tried to be more of a friend than a mother to me.
My smile fades. I just hope she doesn’t think I’m her cause and in need of protection. I have enough of that from the team.