Chapter 32
ANQA CRAMMED her rear into the cave, fanning her feathers and kicking dirt into their faces.
“Control that damned bird of yours,” Damion barked, as he shouldered his kit and then picked up the manticore venom sack.
“Damion, you go with Honey today,” Kaelan said. “I need to talk to Magda before we meet with this witch.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Magda said. “You don’t need to ride—”
Anqa squawked, impatient.
“Yeah, why don’t I?” Damion said, letting the venom sack drop to the ground as he hefted himself up behind Honey.
Magda’s fists curled. “Damion, I said—”
He threw a grin back at her. “The nymph smells better than you anyway.”
Anqa pitched herself out of the cave, dropping before she could spread her wings and gain altitude.
Magda’s fist tightened, itching to connect with Damion’s smug face.
“Where did you go last night?” Kaelan asked.
“Oh . . . fuck off,” she said as Gur swooped in.
She and Kaelan stepped apart as Gur padded to a stop, his face coming between them, his wings brushing the sides of the cave.
“I don’t know what that means,” Kaelan said over the semargl’s head, “but it doesn’t sound very polite.”
She ran her hand over Gur’s mane as he maneuvered around, his tail whapping Kaelan in the face.
“You’re very perceptive,” she said. “It means it’s none of your business where I went.”
Hero clambered up her back and onto her shoulder.
“You told me he was asleep,” she said to him.
He turned his butt to her, tail wrapping around her throat.
She returned the gesture by flooding her mind with images of rats snapping in traps. He dug his claws into her skin until she stopped.
Kaelan tried to snag her, but she slid away and hurried up to Gur, who had lowered himself into a crouch. Climbing up, she slid between the branches of his wings. Kaelan approached more slowly, frowning up at her.
“You ride in front today,” she said down to him.
“I don’t know how to steer this thing,” he said.
Gur growled.
“He’s not a golf cart,” she said. “He knows where we’re going.”
“What’s a golf cart?”
“Oh, just get up here. We’re wasting time.”
Kaelan heaved himself up, seating himself much farther back than necessary. She drew away from him even more, until her knees were locked over Gur’s hindquarters.
Kaelan twisted to look at her over his shoulder. “Are you going to tell me why you’re angry?”
“No,” she said. “Gur.”
Gur launched from the cave. Magda dug her fingers into his fur, crouching low between his wings as he flapped rapidly to pick up speed and then glided over the water. The waves were violet-hued in those whispering moments before sunrise.
Though they weren’t touching, she could feel Kaelan emanating discontent.
North along the gray crags of coast, where the water was the silver color of her mother's eyes and the air cooled to an autumn crispness.
When they set down in an apple grove around noon, for a quick break before they headed out to sea, she dropped off Gur’s back end. Hero disembarked from her with great speed. She chose a likely tree and tested her new courage by climbing as fast as she could.
Honey and Damion were already on the ground. Anqa preened her russet and gold feathers.
Kaelan was not put off though. He climbed the tree after her. Apples dropped down in droves as he ascended.
“Those were all the best ones,” she said to him, balancing with a foot on two different branches.
He glowered at her, his back to the trunk, blocking the way she’d climbed up. “I thought you hated heights.”
“I thought you hated apples,” she said, plucking a fine pink and gold one from the branches, “imp.” She took a big, crunching bite of the apple, but the flavor was lost on her.
A shadow passed over his eyes. And she hurt, because he hurt.
Damn him.
“What’s going to happen,” he asked, “when we meet this witch?”
She sighed. “You really wanted to talk about the witch?”
One of his arms clung loosely to a branch over his head. The rest of his frame leaned against the trunk. “I don’t know what I want to talk about. What happened? Something changed. I wish you’d tell me.”
She took another bite, chewing slowly as she considered her words. “I’m going to try for the Crown,” she murmured, “when the time comes.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because it’s the only way to truly change things,” she said. “And . . . the King . . .”
“What about him?”
She crunched into the apple, gazing down at the ground, utterly unafraid.
Once, not so long ago, the very idea of climbing up a tree and staring down at the ground, nonchalant, would’ve paralyzed her.
But now, thanks to Kaelan, the fear was simply gone.
She was grateful, but it unsettled her. He wasn’t just a peculiar Pixie Prince who was in love with a nymph and didn’t want to be claimed.
He was here to help her, and he had been helping her, but he was also making her life all the more difficult.
“What if Endreas becomes King?” he asked. “Will that change whatever it is you’re planning?”
She sighed. “Why do you keep asking about him?”
“He’s my brother.”
Chewing seemed safer than speaking, so she filled her mouth with sweet apple flesh.
“Do I . . . remind you of him? Is that why you’re angry?”
A chunk of apple stuck in her throat. She coughed it out, tossing the apple aside.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She waved him off. Hanging onto a branch above, she tightrope walked back towards him. “You’re nothing like him,” she said.
“Then what is it?” he asked. “I thought . . .” His chest rose and fell heavily. “I thought we were friends.”
The bruise on her heart panged.
“We are friends, Kaelan. It’s one thing for you to help me become Radiant, but Endreas will come after me.
If you’re with me, he might kill you, even if he doesn’t know it’s really you.
After what happened the last time . . .” Her breath caught.
All the pain of his death came back to her fresh.
“That can’t happen,” she said strongly. “If this deal goes through with Eris, you could have a real chance at a new life, one that’s not fettered by the incidental circumstance of your birth.
I was wrong, when we first met, back in that iron prison.
When you told me you loved a nymph”—pain wrenched in her chest—“I thought you were a na?ve fool.”
“Magda, I—”
“But I was wrong,” she said, sagging. “You asked me before if I was in love with Endreas and . . .” She shook her head.
“You were right. How would I know what love feels like? I was only ever taught to protect myself.” She chuckled humorlessly.
“Everything I know about love I learned from human romance novels.”
He was stone-faced. “You don’t want me to help you become Radiant?”
“I wish I didn’t need your help,” she said, “for you own sake. But I do. Regardless, if I succeed or I fail . . . afterwards, flee. Take Honey and go home. Please believe me. You don’t want this life of being a Prince, of battling your family or teasing apart the riddles of prophecy.
If you can hide, if you can escape, if you can leave all of this behind, do it. ”
His green eyes combed over her face for such a long time, her cheeks began to burn.
“You think I should go back to being an imp?” he asked finally. “Is that what you’re going to ask this witch to do to me?”
“Was it so bad?”
That darkness rolled over his face again.
It seemed like it was doing it more often now, or maybe he’d always been like that, given to brood.
She had no idea. She really didn’t know him at all.
And yet, she had a piece of his heart. It was rooted in her.
She could feel it burrowing deeper into her chest. If he died again .
. . how much of her would he take with him the next time?
“At least as an imp,” she said, “you were safe.”
And if he became one again, or went into exile, he would be safe again.
And she wouldn’t be at risk of experiencing the same kind of madness that had overtaken her the last time.
She’d been ready to kill the King. It hadn’t been an idle thought.
It had been a promise between her and the inexplicable grief.
Only it wasn’t inexplicable. Now she understood.
Being someone’s heart-place connected her to him in an inextricable way. A dangerous way.
“Will I ever really be safe, Magda?” he asked.
She ground her teeth, resisting the urge to tie him up, hang him from a tree, and lob rotten apples at him until he understood just what they were getting themselves into.
“Why don’t we wait until we speak to Eris before you decide you’d rather make my life more difficult than save yourself?”
She crouched down, grabbed the branch, and swung out of the tree to the ground.
Damion glanced up from where he was lounging, brow tilted in an aggravatingly haughty way. She was about to march over and punch him when Honey twirled by, dropping a crown of colorful wildflowers on his head.
“You look just like a Prince,” Honey said with a deep curtsy.
Magda laughed as Damion glowered.
“Thanks,” he grumbled, pushing up to his feet and pulling off the crown. “Not really my colors though.”
Kaelan dropped down behind Magda.
“Are we leaving now?” Honey asked. “I so do love flying. I’ve never met a witch. It’s very exciting.”
“It’s not exciting,” Magda said. “It’s dangerous.”
But Honey just stood there, grinning.
Magda ran her tongue through that empty space where her tooth had been and turned to Kaelan and Damion.
“Once we’re past the gate islands, a fog will appear. In that fog will be a light. It is absolutely crucial that I never take my eyes off of this light. If I do, we will be lost.”
Damion ran his fingers over the scars on his jaw, as if trying to smooth them away. “I had an uncle who tried to find Eris’s island. He never returned.”
Magda leveled her gaze at him. “Many do not. And not just because they lose sight of the light. There are other things in the fog.”
“What kinds of things?” Kaelan asked.