39. Chapter Thirty-Eight #2
I shrugged. “Maybe one of the deities doesn’t want either of those prophecies to pass. Or maybe Maris actually knew about the bond too, but she also foresaw a moment when we break it, and…”
“And then one of you kills the other.”
I frowned at my coffee.
While Bren had taken a bath in my washroom, I’d hurriedly changed in the privacy of my closet. A knock on my door came shortly after, but it wasn’t a servant delivering an outfit for my brother as I’d expected. It was Archer himself.
Expression oddly solemn, emotions too quiet for me to read, he’d held a tray in his hands, a change of clothes tucked under one arm. A steaming cup of coffee and a plate of eggs, fruits, and toast rested on the tray.
“You forgot to take your breakfast when you left. You’ll need your strength for the journey.”
I’d accepted everything speechlessly, hastily setting the tray down on a side table so I could take the spare clothes from the prince.
When I tried to find the words to thank him, he simply thrust the clothes in my hands with a crooked grin.
“They might be a little loose on your brother. All this muscle fills out those shirts, as you’ve noticed. ”
I didn’t have time to roll my eyes before Archer was gone, retreating silently back to his own room. For a moment, I’d stared after him. When I’d returned to my room and sipped my coffee, I’d discovered it had the exact amount of cream and sugar I liked.
We hadn’t taken breakfast in the dining room very often together, but it had happened a few times. Apparently, Archer had watched me more closely than I gave him credit for.
Another strange pang flooded my chest, one of remorse and longing and fear hopelessly knotted together.
Now, I cradled my coffee as a freshly clean and dressed Bren sat next to me on my bed, devouring the rest of the sandwich he’d assembled earlier and stealing some of the fruit off my plate.
“Yes, I guess that would be when we’d be free to kill each other.
” The words didn’t feel right on my tongue.
All of last night’s hate didn’t have the same strength or sting to it, not when I was holding the coffee Archer had prepared for me.
“Anyway, since we have until dark, why don’t you help me with my research?
I’ve been switching between trying to find the cure for everyone in Everhaven and looking for how to break this bond so I can actually go home. ”
Bren studied me sadly. “Yes, we have to find a way to free you.”
Hours later, when Bren’s and my reading in Archer’s private library proved fruitless and we’d joined Archer in his rooms to gather our packs, we’d set out.
Our path in the dark took us through the prince’s secret tunnels, out one of the back servants’ doors, and into the more questionable, decrepit alleyways in the heart of Rainsong.
Unseen animals skittered through the shadows, making my skin crawl.
The torch Archer carried cast a small glow over the slimy brick walls as we passed, illuminating the derogatory messages and scribbled depictions of burning phoenixes or revenants devouring humans smeared across their surfaces at regular intervals.
Death-lovers.
Soul stealers.
Fire demons.
The names grew fouler the more I read, until I had to avert my eyes in disgust. Clearly, Archer wasn’t the only one who had connected the phoenixes to the revenants ravaging the world outside the capital, though, here in their protected bubble, I was a little surprised anyone cared.
I had expected fear and hatred of phoenixes; not concern about the revenants that, here, felt like a distant concern.
Like Rainsong’s citizens would be happy to feast and dance their nights away while the rest of Emberglade fell around them.
At last, we left the city proper behind and approached the graveyard and the edge of the boundary that kept out other beings. The one that Brenton and I could only cross once we shifted into our phoenix forms.
My entire body trembled with a combination of eagerness and trepidation, longing to spread my wings but also dreading it, knowing the price if we were caught.
I didn’t think the crown prince could spare Brenton and me then, even if it cost him his own life—I had the terrible impression that King Wystan would only look at his son as a traitor and declare his daughter as his new heir instead.
The posted guards at the edge of the graveyard scowled as we approached, though their stern expressions softened somewhat when we neared and they realized Archer was the one holding the torch.
“Your Highness,” the female said, her rich brown eyes scanning his form and making a show of her surprise. Her gaze lingered on his muscles before searching his face, clearly appreciating his features.
Typically, I might have had to hold back my laughter, but tonight I was too relieved to have Archer’s charm and good looks offering us any sort of favor.
“We’re here to relieve you of your post,” Archer said, flashing her a wide smile to sweeten his words. “There was a disturbance in the eastern district, near Mossworth’s Edge. They’re wanting backup in case there are shifters attempting to cross the border.”
“Fire demons,” the male guard snapped, his face twisted with fury. The female nodded with disgust.
“Very well, Your Highness. I’m surprised you don’t want to be there yourself to punish them.” The female fluttered her lashes.
“Don’t worry, if there are any trying to come into Rainsong, I know you’ll restrain them and we’ll dole out justice soon enough.” Archer’s teeth flashed in the night. My stomach twisted.
We waited as the guards crept through the graveyard and back toward the city, silence settling around us.
Mist was rolling in from the Cinderwood’s borders, curling about the gravestones like ghostly, groping fingers.
Tree frogs and insects filled the air with their music, a sweetly familiar song that, unfortunately, didn’t alleviate my nerves.
Bren openly scowled at the guards’ retreating backs. “Bigots,” he muttered, casting me a disgusted look. “If we shifted now, we could burn them where they stand.”
I reached out, grasping his arm. “Bren.”
“I’m jesting,” he muttered, “but they deserve it.”
“No one will be burning anyone alive,” Archer interjected, his expression unusually somber as he lifted his torch, studying the rainforest. For the first time, I wondered what he was thinking and feeling, preparing to venture into the heart of enemy territory.
Was he afraid? Disgusted? Hoping to scrape some piece of information from us that I refused to let slip, so he could later go back and destroy our entire haven?
Perhaps because my own emotions were a vicious tangle, I couldn’t discern which feelings were his, or even if I was sensing any of his at all.
“Let’s not waste another moment,” Archer muttered once the guards were out of sight. “We won’t be left here alone for long.”
My nerves twisted further at the thought of shifting right now, with Archer’s gaze solidly on me.
Something about the thought of transforming before him made me feel vulnerable, like I was revealing some secret part of me, some facet I had kept hidden.
He already knew what I was—had already seen me in full and partial phoenix form—and yet, he’d never seen me change.
Shaking off the discomfort, I drew a breath.
Already, I could see Brenton’s feathers flash red and orange in the moonlight.
I closed my eyes, drawing on the power waiting for me in my core, ready and eager to finally be unleashed again.
Though my fae form was as natural as my phoenix form, keeping one contained for too long left me stifled.
Being able to shift at last felt like I was finally freeing the truest part of myself, allowing myself to be both fae and phoenix.
The transformation came effortlessly. My wings expanded, wind ruffling my feathers.
I stretched in relief. I’d been cramped into the wrong shape for far too long.
Lifting my head toward the sky, I took in the clear night eagerly, ready to be in the air again.
In phoenix form, Bren and I couldn’t talk, but we could communicate with one another in much the same way Archer and I did through our bond.
He’s so puny, my brother observed, glancing downward.
It was odd to study Archer from this perspective, when we stood taller and larger than the crown prince, the male who’d held so much influence over my circumstances, my actions, and my very feelings for weeks.
Are you really sure that you’d share the same injuries if I used fire? Phoenixes can’t burn.
We can if we’re dying, I snapped back. Don’t try anything.
I shifted my gaze back to Archer, who was gazing at us silently, his green eyes drinking in the sight of us in our phoenix forms.
Or rather, drinking in the sight of me.
If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought the emotion that swelled briefly through our bond, one that was decidedly his and not mine, was awe.
You’re thinking of burning me to a crisp, aren’t you? His mouth twitched, but he neither smiled nor frowned.
I don’t really feel like dying today, so I’d say you’re safe for now. I dipped my head forward, lowering myself until I was closer to his level. Remember, there’s no time to waste. Quit dawdling and humble yourself enough to climb on.
This time, Archer’s mouth did twitch into a brief smile. Putting out his torch in the dirt, he laid it on the ground and obeyed.
Let’s go home, Bren said, and we launched into the sky.