Chapter 16
Sixteen
E quipped in full gear, Dawson was irritatingly gorgeous in a way he made look effortless, leaning against Beck.
Infuriatingly, the sight of him made Alaire’s stomach tighten.
The gods had surely put too much effort into him to spite the rest of them.
His turquoise eyes looked like the depths of the untouched sea.
He’d retied his hair, highlighting the sharp angles of his face.
He was already pushing off Beck, his fae hearing picking up her steps.
His eyes drank her in as she emerged from the castle’s shadow.
The gargoyles hooted behind her like poorly trained owls.
“Here you’ll need these,” Dawson said, handing her a pair of goggles.
“Where are yours?” She eyed him skeptically.
“The celestial bond shields my eyes during flight. You don’t have that protection.”
She tugged the goggles over her hair.
“Ready?” he asked, holding out a hand to help her up.
The pull in her chest urged her forward. “As much as I can be.” She took his hand and climbed over. He settled in behind her in the slight dip of Beck’s back. She was flush against his chest, close enough to feel his heat through her leathers.
She gulped. Flying had always intrigued her, but sitting atop Beck, she was second-guessing it. The ground seemed like a safer, more stable place. Feet were meant to remain on the ground. Why change it?
Dawson whispered against her ear, “Don’t worry, Firework. I promise not to drop you.” He slid a hand around her waist. Her back went rigid, and he tightened his arms around her, bracing for take-off.
Without warning, Beck shot into the skies, fast and furious. Alaire screamed. Beck climbed higher into the sky. She dared to look down at the ground below. At this height, everything except the castle looked like a miniature playset.
The air was much cooler up here, and though she would never admit it, Alaire was grateful that Dawson suggested she change.
She couldn’t imagine still being in that flimsy material.
She didn’t want to even think about how much more would’ve been exposed pressed against Dawson.
His body was solid and toasty against hers.
Dawson held what looked like a braid of feathers, a sort of reins.
She spread her hands into Beck’s feathers, trying to anchor herself without touching any parts of Dawson that weren’t necessary.
Before she could shift forward, his grip around her tightened, drawing her closer with ease.
She scowled at the movement. He laughed under his breath, clearly relishing her irritation.
The pull in her chest was dragging her in the opposite direction.
She ignored it. It only grew, an unrelenting force, until her head smashed into Dawson’s chest.
“Oof.”
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t me.”
A soft laugh tickled her ear. “Why do I find it difficult to believe that causing me pain wasn’t intentional?”
“I can’t deny the thought has crossed my mind, but I can’t take credit for it this time. The pull is directing me south.”
Dawson didn’t utter a single word to Beck as he banked left, changing course. The telepathic connection—so cool.
Wind roared around them, an unrelenting force against her skin, but suddenly, there was silence. A soft hum of magic coiled around them like an invisible cocoon, muting the howl to a whisper. His aether at work.
For the first time, the world felt still.
The knot that lived within her relaxed slightly.
She closed her eyes, focusing on the rise and fall of her chest. The rhythmic thrum of Beck’s beating wings, the bite of the high-altitude air as the scent of salted wind and frosted evergreen settled over her.
“I hadn’t expected flying to feel so peaceful.”
“Flying helps when my head gets too loud,” he said, the warmth of his breath skimming her neck. “Especially when I’m thinking about my father.”
A thumb absentmindedly brushed her hip bone. She twisted her hands deeper into Beck’s feathers, fighting the urge to lean her head back against his shoulder.
“My mother refused to tell me who he was or what happened to him. It’s an ache, a missing presence, I still feel. I would do anything to have known him, to get him back.” He lowered his voice, sounding almost wistful.
The confession was somber and unexpected. It was the first sliver of something real, a glimpse behind the facade. Up here, who they were back at the academy felt so far away.
“I’m sorry.” She hated how inadequate the words felt, but they were all she had. Maybe Dawson’s life hadn’t been as easy as she’d assumed.
“Thank you,” he said, the pain evident in his voice, but his grip on her waist tightened.
Alaire turned back to look at him. His teeth bit into his bottom lip, the rawness of his emotions hovering right below the surface.
She turned back, fixing her gaze on the horizon ahead.
Then, quietly, Alaire offered her own truth.
“Life in the orphanage was difficult—life after it was tougher. Even now, it’s still hard to see the amount of food we have access to here and not think of those nights my stomach gnawed at me while I slept.
Our food was rationed, so every child at least got something.
But it was never enough. It was even worse on the streets.
The conditions right here in Cielore are abhorrent. ”
Dawson didn’t adjust his hold on her, but she felt his sharp intake of breath.
“One of the only bright spots during that time was my friend Blake. A null, he was shunned by his family. He volunteered at the orphanage. Blake taught me everything I know, trained me in combat and breathwork. Without him, I wouldn’t have survived.
” Her throat tightened, but she continued.
“He was drafted when the war resumed and killed in action. Because he was deemed as disposable as the humans.”
She traced the rachis of each of Beck’s feathers.
“I’m telling you this not because I want your sympathy but because this is happening in your territory, Dawson.
My story is far from the worst and one of thousands.
You are a prince of House Aetheris. You’re in a position to make changes. So make them.”
For a long, weighted moment, he said nothing. But he flexed his hand around her waist twice, telling her he was listening.
“A truth for a truth, prince.”
For the rest of the flight, they remained silent when suddenly, her body felt heavy and sluggish. The pull that generally existed in her chest fell like bricks tied around her ankles.
“I think we’re here,” she said over the wind to Dawson.
Cassiopeia Forest was an impenetrable woodland of dark, dense foliage. Beyond it lay the Phantom Gap, an area entirely shrouded in mist, teeming with creepy and bloodthirsty things. Legend claimed those who lingered too long in the forest went mad from the souls who never made it out alive.
Beck’s landing was smooth and graceful. Dawson helped her dismount, and she stared at the ominous depths ahead.
He checked the placement of his daggers and broadsword. She’d completely missed just how armed to the teeth he was.
High-pitched screams carried from deep within the trees.
“Not happening. I refuse to go in there.” Alaire backed away when pain lanced through her stomach. She doubled over with a sharp gasp.
Dawson rushed to her side, his hand running lightly up and down her spine. “Are you okay?”
She wrapped her arms around her middle, focusing on the soft bed of pine needles beneath her boots. Shuffling a step toward the forest, the pain eased slightly.
Are you fucking kidding me?
“I’m fine,” she ground out. “But this thing wants us to go into the forest.”
“That pull is what’s causing this?”
She nodded, straightening as the worst of the pain subsided, though she kept her arms wrapped around her waist for the lingering aftershocks.
Dawson cupped her face, tilting her head up until their foreheads touched.
“Focus on me,” he said softly, his breath warm against her skin. “Not the pain. Just me.” His fingers slid beneath her braid, massaging her scalp as he held her gaze.
The pain finally ebbed, leaving her shaky but upright. The intimacy of the moment made her chest tight in an entirely different way. She stepped back, breaking the contact before she could do something ridiculous—like lean into him.
“I still despise you,” Alaire muttered, turning toward the tree line.
“The feeling’s mutual, Firework.” He chuckled behind her.
With confidence she didn’t feel, Alaire marched into the forest. This better be worth it.
Dawson caught up quickly, Beck trailing behind.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the temperature dropped. She shivered, rubbing her arms for warmth.
Under the cover of the trees, Alaire tried to recreate the feeling she’d summoned before. She focused on the anger she’d felt when that chink within had broken free—clapping her hands together, dragging them down her leathers, waving them in the air. Nothing.
Out of the corner of her eye, a small orb of light whizzed into view, floating before them. The pull inside her practically jumped up and down; like recognizing like.
She tilted her head, studying it. “It would seem we have a personal tour guide through Cassiopeia Forest.”
“Magnificent,” Dawson murmured in astonishment. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Her brow furrowed. “You’ve never seen an orb before?”
“I’ve seen an orb,” he said flatly. “I’m talking about the type of magic that led you here—sentient magic.”
“Oh. I would’ve preferred not to be led through a dark, creepy forest in the middle of the night by an excited orb.”
“Could be worse.”
“Debatable.”
The ground beneath her boots was soft and squishy. Heaps of Black Mondo grass blended with the darkness, their thin blades like fields of spiders huddled together. She gave herself a sharp shake, forcing the image away.
She kept her eyes fixed on the light ahead.