38. Thirty-eight
Chapter 38
I was woken early in the morning by the sound of a fist pounding against the door. Oraik made a soft groaning noise and rolled over away from me, burying his face into the pillow. We’d fallen asleep talking.
“Wake up, you lout,” Kalcedon snapped, his voice muffled through the door.
The fist knocked again, louder. Oraik stumbled out of bed and opened the door an inch.
“What d’you want?” he mumbled. “It’s too early to be murdered.”
“Meda isn’t in her room, or downstairs. We have to find her.” Kalcedon’s voice was harsh, worried.
“Calm down, I'm right here,” I said sleepily, and curled around my pillow. There was a long pause.
“...Meda?” Kalcedon’s voice was soft.
Oraik stepped aside, and Kalcedon pushed the door open. I would have loved to sleep longer, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen. I yawned and swung my legs out of bed. My mouth tasted like sour wine.
"Right. Of course she is," Kalcedon spat. His mask was already on, so I couldn’t see his expression. He turned and walked away, slamming the door behind him.
“What was that about?” I mumbled.
“He really hates me,” Oraik said. He yawned, scratched his head, and fell back onto the bed.
“I’ll go after him,” I said. I’d slept in my dress, thankfully, so there was nothing to do before heading out the door.
I didn’t have to go far. Kalcedon perched on the staircase, sitting on the top step with his elbows resting on his knees. The pain roiling off him was sharp, nearly toxic. I was surprised the walls didn’t start weeping salt water.
“So that’s still happening,” he growled as I approached from behind. I sat next to him and leaned against the wall.
“What, Oraik and me? We're just friends.”
“I know that .”
“So what’s your problem, then?” I said, and poked Kalcedon’s shoulder just below his mask’s cowl. But he didn’t turn his head to look at me.
“You make more sense with him. You’re happier with him. I don’t fit into it.”
His power was a sour, sinking weight spreading like fog. I pursed my lips.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“ Am I? You aren’t the first person to have left me, Meda.” Kalcedon’s mask swiveled to look at me.
I rubbed my eyes, exhausted, hungover, and a little surprised he was being such a brat.
“Finally having a friend doesn’t mean I like you any less. And Oraik might make me laugh, but life’s more than laughing.”
“Eudoria hasn’t even been dead for two weeks. Two weeks . I’m glad you’re having fun, drinking on sin-boats and seeing the world.” He stood up and stomped down the stairs. I stared after him and heard the door of the inn slam.
It wasn’t fair of him to bring up Eudoria. I was doing such a good job of not thinking about her.
I sat on the steps in silence until Oraik spoke.
“Who’s Eudoria?”
I hadn’t even realized he was behind me, but I didn’t turn around. I leaned my head against the wall. How could I even begin to answer that question? Eudoria was so many things. A foolish part of me still believed she was just waiting for us on Nis-Illous. That when the Temple won against the Colynes and the faeries, everything would go back to the way it had always been. Eudoria would ask me if I was done organizing the new books and tell me not to dream so big. Kalcedon would come in from the garden, corner me into eating a slice of fresh melon, and not let me go until I told him how good it tasted. I shook my head, then sniffled. Tears built behind my eyes.
“Damn it,” I whispered hoarsely, and wiped them away.
Oraik sat down beside me. Then he put a hand around me and pulled me against him. I tensed for a moment, haunted by Kalcedon’s words, before turning and burying my face against Oraik’s shoulder.
“We don’t have to talk,” he murmured. “I’m sorry for whoever you lost. I knew you’d been through something , but. Well.”
“I’ve been trying not to think about her. He’s hurting. I know he’s hurting. Badly. She was his family.”
I was interrupted by a distant, piercing shriek, followed by the muffled sound of a crowd screaming. Oraik went stiff. His hand tightened on my shoulder.
“What was that ?” he whispered.
“I don’t know.” I wiped my eyes and stood, then hurried to my room for my shoes. Oraik did the same. We re-emerged simultaneously and clattered down the stairs just as Kalcedon wrenched the door to the inn open.
“Come on ,” Kalcedon snapped. I ran past him onto the street, then turned.
Oraik was headed outside, but Kalcedon stopped the taller man with a hand on his chest. Oraik glared down at him, but Kalcedon held firm.
“This isn’t over,” I heard Kalcedon tell him in a low voice. “She’s mine.”
Kalcedon released Oraik. The prince pushed past him and joined me in the middle of the street looking angry. I gave Oraik a weak smile. I was going to have to talk to Kalcedon about that, probably.
I turned in a circle, scanning the city to figure out where the commotion had come from. It became clear when a large, winged shape burst into the sky two streets over, then turned and dove back down. It was dark brown and heavily feathered but moved so quickly that I could not make out more detail than that. I felt a thrum of wild, untamed magic, similar to the drake’s but somehow different. Thicker; heavier without being hotter.
Whatever the beast was, it was fae. Kalcedon sprinted forward, searching for an alley to the next street over. I hitched my skirts and followed. Oraik loped beside me.
More screaming. Not a non-stop flood of it, but waves, as if in reaction to the creature’s movements. We spotted the alleyway we needed, visible from a distance because a half-dozen people suddenly flooded out from it, eyes wide with panic. I felt another rush of strange magic. If I could run and draw runes, I’d take Kalcedon’s power and throw a shield over him to keep him safe. But he was getting too far ahead of me, and I couldn’t move my hands with any precision. So I just ran as fast as I could.
I cut through the alley and emerged on a broad avenue only a little out of breath. We were close to the gorge. The street turned into a bridge abruptly some twenty feet to my left. Kalcedon was only a few feet in front of me, having stopped when he reached the street.
In front of me an elderly woman fell over and screamed. I started towards her to help her up. But she froze mid-scream, her features unnaturally still as magic crashed through her. Even her wind-tossed white hair paused, suspended in the air. A swift grayness came next, obliterating the color of her flesh and clothes alike. I gasped and turned.
Stone figures peppered the street, statues in perfect full detail, crouched or running. A mother huddled over an infant. One man’s arm was thrown out to the side, shielding another man. A girl’s arm was cocked back, holding a stone as if ready to launch it.
“Goddess,” Oraik breathed.
“Stay back,” I told him.
The creature swung towards us. Its front limbs were wings, the midpoints taloned claws that it dug into the ground as it moved. Even on all fours the thing was taller than Oraik. Its owlish face held wide golden eyes framing a short beak. Long feathered ear-tufts rose from the top of its head.
It opened its beak to shriek. I felt the build of magic thrumming hot in the creature’s throat.
“Kalcedon!” I shouted, sketching the beginnings of a defense.
He understood. A torrent of familiar magic slammed into my sigils, powering a glistening wall in front of all three of us. The creature’s spell crashed like a wave over the shield. I wished I could reach out and steal its magic, but it felt different than Kalcedon’s, different even from the pureblood faeries. Utterly wild, mindless, raw.
I couldn’t see Kalcedon’s hands move; his back was to me. But something shot from his fingers, a bolt that rammed through the creature’s wing and left a gash. Blood dark as plum syrup sprayed. The creature keened and reared back on its haunches, lifting both taloned wings up then lunging in with its beak. It met my shield, then shrieked again.
The shield shattered. The shriek didn’t make it through, but it shattered it. I’d never seen that happen before, never realized it could. If I were as good as Tarelay, I could make a shield that would absorb the magic, bend to it. I started sketching sigils again, desperate and fast.
The creature spun away. The good wing clipped a statue, knocking the frozen man over the ground. His stone hand and nose shattered.
“Forget the shield! Take it down!” Kalcedon bellowed. “Before it gets anyone else!” He threw another bolt. It missed the beast and cracked the wall of the building behind it.
Something to stop it screaming , I thought, and twisted out a choke-attack that could, supposedly, strangle a victim.
The beast writhed. The big dark wings flapped, carrying it a few feet into the air before it crashed forward and down. I dove out of the way as the creature slammed past me into the building, showering dust down onto the street. It twitched once before falling still.