Chapter 33 #2
Kinlear stood beside her, looking up. His grasp utterly white on the eagle’s handle of his cane as he watched her settling herself, her hands in Six’s feathers.
‘Do me a favor, when you’re in the midst of it?’ Kinlear asked.
Ezer released a heavy breath, a cloud of white. ‘A little late for favors, isn’t it?’
But he cocked his head and smiled. ‘When you make the Descent … enjoy it.’ He placed a hand on Six’s neck, and to her surprise, the raphon did not stiffen, or twitch her tail twice. She leaned into his touch, purring softly. Like she finally trusted him. ‘Just … don’t die.’
Ezer’s stomach turned. ‘Thanks for that, Prince.’
And then his hand fell away and he was gone, back to join the others who stood watching.
She glanced back and found Arawn with them.
She saw his hand reach for his cloak pocket, and her speaking stone warmed.
She reached for it on instinct, perhaps because in moments … she could die.
Six can do this, he thought to her as their eyes locked, and she felt like they were worlds apart. She must do this … so that I can make it right. So that I can earn your forgiveness, one step at a time.
Her dark heart shifted.
A tiny, insignificant crack, and it allowed a tendril of his light to shine through.
He’d lied to her.
But his lies didn’t feel the same as the ones from Ervos. They felt more like stones instead of boulders, more like broken pieces they could still form back together, if she wanted.
She’ll do just fine, Ezer thought to him, fingertips around the speaking stone. As for earning my forgiveness … you already have it.
She would not linger on hatred.
But even as he smiled, relief flooding across his face, she thought back, it is my trust, Arawn Laroux, that you must earn once more.
She released the stone and turned away from him.
She closed her eyes and felt the snow on her face, heard the whisper of the wind in her ears that said, ‘Fly, Ezer.’ She focused on the warmth of Six beneath her, and the steady beating of her heart.
She blocked out everyone, everything, but the two of them.
She dug her hands into Six’s feathers, leaned forward and whispered, ‘Okay, Six. Let’s fly.’
The raphon broke into a jog, and Ezer settled into it. The rhythm of her body, the beat of her heavy paws against the snow.
Six’s wings snapped out when they were twenty paces from the edge.
They were lovely, casting a dark shadow across the cliffside, where morning light had begun to spill through the snow, a beam of beauty in the chaos.
Six’s wings were a drum.
Ezer’s heart matched them, until they were almost at the cliffside.
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
She could feel the moment they lifted off the edge. It felt like pressure upon her shoulders, and the wind became colder, stronger.
Her stomach dipped as they careened down, down, past the window wall in the Citadel, the rock face mere inches from Six’s paws.
Ezer held on, as the wind pulled at her cloak.
Her hair.
Her breath left her lungs as they picked up speed, as they fell, headlong, towards death.
She was going to splatter on the rocks.
She was going to end up broken for good, and Six would break with her, and—
Trust her, Arawn’s voice appeared in her mind. Trust Six.
And the second she thought it, a vision filtered into her mind.
A beautiful sunset.
A feather, drifting gently in the wind as it headed for a cluster of mountain peaks. Not the Sawteeth’s fierce dark crown, but someplace different. Someplace where the mountains were smoother, softer, wholly covered in white.
Ezer practically gasped at the shift in vision.
Because while her body tumbled down from the cliffside, her mind was rooted to the spot, somewhere else.
If she imagined away the wind, the cold, the rocks at the bottom of the cliff and the seconds between herself and death …
She let herself sink into that beautifully painted vision from Six.
There was no battlefield, no cloud of living shadows.
Instead, there were distant rolling mountains, thousands of them as far as the eye could see, and in their center, a glittering blue lake.
Its shoreline was crusted with ice, and when she looked out across the water …
she saw the reflection of a black-winged raphon.
And with it, a rider – herself – perched atop the raphon’s back.
They flew like they were one body, one soul.
The wind was a breeze instead of a torrent. The sky was a place to dance instead of fight, and as they flew …
Others joined in with them.
Ravens.
An entire flock, guiding them as they sang a mournful song. They headed into the wilderness, where no one could stop them.
Not even the wind.
‘Thank you,’ Ezer whispered, and she stayed there, safe and sound and warm in her mind, while Six lead the way. While Six faced the fear for her.
And Ezer was not afraid.
When it was over, when Six carried her safely back up towards the cliffside, and landed … the King nodded his approval. The Queen’s cold blue eyes held her … and so subtly, she approved with a lift of her chin. The Masters, too, and the vote was decided then and there.
‘You were magnificent,’ Kinlear said as he came to greet Ezer.
He held out a hand to help her down, but she did not need it.
She was capable on her own.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said, as Ezer stopped before him.
‘Tomorrow?’ Ezer asked.
He nodded, his eyes bright, as he turned and looked across the Expanse. ‘The vote was four to one.’ Ezer wondered who that one denier was. The Queen? Or … she hated to think it … Arawn? ‘Tomorrow … at the dawn of Realmbreak … we fly.’