Chapter 33
She got the news when she woke. The Queen had arrived. So today was the day of their Demonstration with the Descent.
Six stood still as Ezer brushed her and oiled her feathers.
‘Are you ready?’ Ezer asked.
The raphon’s tail twitched once.
Yes.
And in her mind, Ezer received a vision:
That same dark feather, floating alone in an endless sea. But the wind came and lifted it. And the feather soared away, no longer alone. No longer lost.
‘Good girl,’ Ezer said. ‘Just try not to crash this time.’
The raphon lifted her head, her dark eyes unblinking as she stared at Ezer.
A huff, as she considered and cocked her head to the side.
And then her tail twitched twice.
‘That’s hardly comforting,’ Ezer said.
But then Six set her heavy beak down on Ezer’s shoulder, the weight so much more than it had been just months ago. And another vision came.
The dark feather soared towards the Sawteeth. And even in the wind, even in the snow, it did not falter.
It fought like hell to reach the other side.
When she stepped into the Aviary halls, Izill was waiting for her, an enormous box in her hands.
It was wrapped with a delicate golden bow.
‘From the prince,’ Izill said. ‘Kinlear,’ she added, when Ezer’s eyes widened as she unwrapped the box.
A weapon. A short sword with raven’s wings for a hilt.
The very same one from her labyrinth.
‘Where is this from?’ Ezer asked.
Izill pursed her lips in thought. ‘They gather many weapons on the battlefield. It could have been forged by anyone in Lordach for all I know.’
Ezer gasped as she lifted the blade and found it nearly weightless, a far cry from the training sword she’d begrudgingly used. This one … this was a work of art. It felt like it was made for her.
Black diamonds shimmered on the pommel, embedded into whatever substance the sword was made of. She held it to the light, and it sparkled like it was spun with stars.
Some part of her wanted to place it back in the box, because it was yet another part of her dreams coming true.
And she knew – oh gods, she knew how it would end for her.
I’ll change that part, she promised herself. I will not fall to Kinlear’s blade.
Izill led her to one of the many countless rooms inside the Aviary and braided her hair while Ezer ate breakfast.
The food tasted stale today.
Even the water felt dry on her tongue.
‘A warrior’s braid,’ Izill said as she worked with careful hands. ‘So everyone can see how strong you are.’
Ezer had never spent much time looking at herself, not wanting to see the ugliness of her scars. But when Izill was done, and she’d guided her towards a mirror …
‘Look at you,’ Izill said. ‘You are radiant.’
She’d braided her hair back away from her face … the better for others to see her shadow wolf marks.
They stood out, stark raised black lines against her pale face. In the past, she would have winced at the sight of them. But today, she did not see her smallness, nor her scars.
She saw strength staring back at her.
She saw who she really was for the very first time.
‘Thank you,’ Ezer whispered as she took Izill’s hand and squeezed it tight.
‘Don’t thank me,’ Izill said, and led Ezer from the room. ‘It’s you who is about to give everything for us. Just … kick the Descent’s ass.’
Then Izill gasped like she was surprised she’d uttered the word.
‘I won’t tell anyone,’ Ezer whispered with a wink.
They left the room together, hand in hand.
Kinlear was waiting for her in the catacombs when she arrived.
‘Ezer,’ he said as he turned to her, leaning on his cane. He had on a matching dark cloak. ‘You look …’
‘The hair was Izill’s doing,’ Ezer said, her cheeks reddening.
Kinlear smiled and reached out to tug the end of her long braid. ‘I was going to say lovely. But I don’t think that’s it.’
‘No?’ she asked.
Kinlear said, ‘You look fierce. Formidable. Strong.’ He smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering on her cheek. ‘You look like Ezer, the very first Raphon Rider of Lordach, worthy of her name.’
And then he leaned in and ever so gently pressed a kiss to her cheek.
It was soft.
Delicate, like he was taking his time.
Testing the moment.
When he pulled away, he stayed there, his lips just beside her ear.
‘Are you ready, Ezer?’ he asked.
He smelled like red wine and woodsmoke, and she was surprised at how good it felt to be close to him. To feel his words sighing into her ear.
‘Yes,’ she breathed.
When he pulled away, he was smiling again, his arm held out to her.
She took it.
And together, they turned towards Six.
A small crowd had gathered at the cliffside, just at the top of the black stone steps. The Masters, dressed in white with their golden armbands, all of whom made up the War Table. And with them, crowns upon their heads, were the King and Queen of Lordach.
The King was sitting in a wheeled chair.
As if he no longer had the strength to walk. And right there beside him … Ezer averted her gaze from Arawn.
‘You’re a quick study,’ Kinlear said as she led Six across the snow. ‘So be aware, my father looks like hell froze over. Bow to him. Don’t speak unless spoken to. My mother?’ He chuckled. ‘Gods help you. And me.’
‘What?’ Ezer yelped. ‘Why?’
‘She detests me,’ Kinlear shrugged as they crested the hill. ‘Because she thinks me the weak link of our family line. An embarrassment that never should have been. Today, we prove her wrong.’
Her heart sank, but she had no time to question him further as they closed in on the crowd.
‘Mother. Father,’ Kinlear said as he stopped before his parents and bowed respectfully. ‘Brother,’ he added, glaring at Arawn.
Don’t look at him, Ezer thought. Don’t you dare do it.
It was an effort not to raise her eyes, not to let her heart ache for his.
The King hardly looked like himself. He’d wasted away … stringy white hair, shallow cheekbones, his body so frail beneath a mountain of runed blankets it was a wonder the chair had made it across the snow at all. His eyes were milky white, and he squinted, as if he struggled to see.
Her heart stuttered.
This was what the power of the gods did to a mortal body.
This was perhaps the worst, most undeserving penance of all.
His sole purpose was to serve the Five, to strive for perfection under the weight of their laws. He’d protected the weak, led his army with glorious invocations granted …
He’d fought against the Acolyte with everything he had.
And now he would die early.
A victim of what the gods created him to do.
It was no wonder he seemed to hate people like her.
Queen Dhyana sighed as she looked down at him. Like she had no love for the King, no sorrow that she would lose him soon … only a duty to stand at his side as his Matched.
She was the picture of Arawn. Pale, white hair, soft blue eyes. Wrinkles formed at their edges, despite her being only in her forties, for she was a powerful Realmist who helped sustain the extra food source in Touvre, Lordach’s capital.
She’d invocated plenty, to ensure her people survived.
Her eyes slid to Six and narrowed. ‘So this is the beast that nearly killed my son. An ugly thing, isn’t it?’
Fire churned in Ezer’s gut. And then Dhyana’s cold eyes fell upon her. ‘And you. A bit small for a Rider, wouldn’t you say? And quite the pairing you two make, scarred as you are.’
‘Mother,’ Arawn warned.
But Ezer wanted her to look.
Wanted her to see what good Lordach had done for those like her. The ones raised in forgotten shadows … called to war anyway.
Kinlear sighed. ‘Your presence in the north is uplifting as usual, Mother. I think you’ll soon see that my Rider is more than capable of ensuring the Black Wing Battalion remains a successful mission. She’s proven herself to me time and again.’
‘You are not the one to decide.’ His mother turned her icy gaze on him. ‘Look at you, Kinlear. Standing in the cold ready to catch your death, trying to play savior. You’re dressed like a sloppy tavern bard when you should be inside, resting—’
‘A prince does not rest,’ Kinlear said. His voice was so firm, it almost felt like he’d yelled the words. ‘This is my last chance to do something of worth for this kingdom. I’ve worked, tirelessly, to ensure the raphon flies. I will not back down now. Not when future peace is so close.’
‘The future,’ the Queen said carefully, ‘that lies in your brother’s hands when he is king soon.
Not yours, Kinlear. I hardly doubt that this –’ she waved a hand at Ezer and Six, who had broken character by now and was sniffing playfully at the snow.
Ezer jabbed her in the side – ‘can survive what is required to save Lordach.’
Gods, the Queen was awful. Truly awful.
Perhaps it was better not to have family.
Perhaps Ezer had been spared.
‘Yes, we’re all aware Arawn has a future,’ Kinlear said.
‘And if you want him to keep it … you’ll spend your time praying for my success, instead of wishing I would go back inside and hide.
I am done hiding, Mother.’ He took a breath, like he was forcing his cough not to appear.
And then, in a way that made Ezer’s lip twitch with the effort not to smile, he added, ‘I’ll have you know that this cloak is designer, straight from Touvre.
And certainly not anything a tavern bard could afford. ’
‘Enough,’ the King spat. His voice was pained. ‘We are here for the Descent.’
‘I’m glad you see reason, Father,’ Kinlear said. ‘Shall we begin?’
‘Yes,’ the King said. ‘Make the Descent.’ His milky gaze slid towards Ezer. ‘Alone.’
Kinlear gasped. ‘But—’
‘The Rider goes alone, Kinlear. Until she has proven her worth. Should she survive the Descent … we’ll take our vote then.’
The cliffside was clear before her.
The open sky, empty and waiting.
Too soon, the test of her bond had arrived. Too soon, she asked Six to bow, so she could climb on.
There were only the two of them, alone with the wind.