Chapter 5 #2
How is one meant to react when told—yet again—to leave behind the life they have always known?
To cast it off like an old, ragged garment for a shiny new one?
How many more times will it take until the fabric of who I am is worn thin, until the threads unravel and scatter so far that I can no longer weave them back into something recognizable?
Most likely, I should be filled with pride and anticipation. But I’ve always seen this new garment for what it is—made from the finest fabric yet fastened with a clasp of broken glass, waiting to slice into my throat.
The image of Luci’s prone body on the marble floor flashes through my mind once again. The sound of her choking sobs reverberates through my skull, and the cold, unfeeling words that followed echo endlessly.
Such a shame.
I’m more than accustomed to the brutality of the Aviary.
I’ve been on the receiving end of Lord Malis’s ire more times than I care to remember.
I’ve spent days locked in cells without food or water as punishment and been manacled with goiteía cuffs that burned my skin and left me feeling sick and hollow.
I’ve endured all this and more in the name of building resilience and instilling obedience.
Over time, the initial shock has faded, giving way to a smoldering anger I can’t quite contain. I find myself caught between the determination of my younger self, desperate to prove my worth, and the resentment that now lingers in my present.
A sharp tap comes from my door, and I drag myself out of bed with a sigh. I trudge to the door, my fingertips brushing the spot where I have my dagger hidden beneath my linen pants, and crack it open. I pull it wider when I find an Owl peering back at me.
“The Eagle commands your presence.” His tone is hushed, but it quivers with urgency.
I peer over his shoulder, unease curling in my stomach when I see Nyssa hovering in the hall behind him.
I arch a brow at her in question, and she returns it with a shrug, no more enlightened than I am as to why we’re being summoned in the middle of the night.
Calliope’s words warp through my mind, but not once had she mentioned Nyssa.
So, perhaps this summons is about something else entirely?
“Now.” The Owl’s demand cuts through my thoughts before he turns on his heel and starts striding down the hall.
I slip out of my room and pull the door shut, falling into step beside my friend. “Any idea what this is about, Sparrow?” It’s strange to call her by her new name. In my heart and mind, she will always be Nyssa to me, regardless of what the Aviary commands.
She groans under her breath. “Of all the birds in the realm, I get named after the plainest one. Why couldn’t I be called Starling? Or Falcon?”
“I think it’s cute.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Nyssa turn her head to glare at me. “No red-blooded woman aspires to be thought of as cute, El.”
I bite my lip to hold in a laugh. “It could be worse,” I offer with a shrug.
“Yeah, like what?”
“I hear there’s a species of bird common in Reveza called a dickcissel.”
Nyssa makes a choking sound and slams a palm over her mouth, smothering her laughter. “Okay, you’re right. I’ll take Sparrow over that any day.”
The Owl leads us up the stairs, and we trail behind him in silence up to the eastern tower, where the masters reside.
My shoulders tighten with each step, the earlier unease chased away by our lighthearted chatter creeping back in.
Nyssa’s hand slips into mine, and she gives my fingers a gentle squeeze, a small reminder that we’re not facing whatever is about to come alone.
I throw her a grateful smile, but when our guide comes to a stop and raps his knuckles on a set of double doors emblazoned with an eagle, I let our hands fall apart.
Without so much as another glance in our direction, the Owl leaves, and a voice calls us in from the other side.
The scent of old books and parchment is the first thing I note as we enter Lord Malis’s dimly lit study.
I take in the ancient relics and manuscripts lining the shelves, each one carrying the weight of centuries of history within its worn and tattered pages.
It makes me question how so many rarities have made their way to this one room in our broken kingdom.
My gaze finally lands on Lord Malis as he looks up from his desk. The edges of his mouth curl into a sardonic smile as he gestures at the chairs facing him. We settle into them without a word as he watches us intently—a silent warning that any disobedience will result in swift punishment.
“Sparrow. Starling.” His fathomless eyes lock on to me, making my skin crawl. “Thank you for coming at such a late hour, but I am sure you will appreciate the magnitude of this situation once I give you your assignments.”
Nyssa and I sit in silence as we wait for him to continue. Calliope’s warning from last night rears up in my mind once again, and I grip the edges of my seat, trying my best to smother the rising sense of foreboding.
“As you are no doubt aware, Alpha Flight has recently returned from an assignment in Eretria. What is not commonly known among the order is the purpose of their mission. Over a year ago, we received word from one of our Songbirds that the king of Eretria had come into possession of a weapon. A weapon so lethal it could mean the end of our world as we know it. Following that initial message, we lost contact with our Songbird, and we can only assume someone captured him.”
Lord Malis stands from his desk and walks to the window, staring out into the abyss of darkness beyond as he continues.
“Few in our kingdom will remember what it was like during the God War. Destruction and bloodshed devastated the lands, and—while we are no longer at war—the divides in our kingdoms have only become more pronounced over time. Tensions are rising across the Empyrieos, and the songs we have heard suggest war may no longer remain in the history books. King Daedalus is poisoned by greed, parading as a visionary with claims to reunite the kingdoms under one crown. With this weapon in their hands, Eretria holds an advantage over the rest of the kingdoms. We cannot allow his vision of one kingdom with one king to come to pass.”
I keep my expression clear despite the urge to frown. What type of weapon could be powerful enough to tip the scales in a war? I’m about to ask when Lord Malis turns back to face us, and his next words steal the air from my lungs.
“The two of you will accompany Alpha Flight when they return to Eretria and assist them with infiltrating the court and finding the weapon. I cannot stress enough the importance of success. The fate of our kingdom—our realm—depends on it.”
The two of you.
My mind races as I struggle to hold myself together.
Why us? What do we have to offer on a mission like this?
We’ve barely had a moment to adjust to becoming Songbirds, and now we’re being thrust straight into this.
A mission so ambitious, it seems almost unattainable.
And then there’s Nyssa. Why didn’t Calliope mention her if she’s bound for the same journey?
“And once we have this weapon, Eagle,” Nyssa asks, cutting through my rampant thoughts, “what will be the extraction plan?”
“Your Flight Commander will fill you in on the details in the coming days. For now, that will be all.”
Nyssa and I bow our heads and stand to leave. As we reach the door, Lord Malis calls out, “Starling, a word.”
Nyssa shoots me a worried look, but I force an encouraging smile as I close the door once again behind her. I’m given no indication to sit this time, so I stand before the desk, hands clasped behind my back.
No matter what, I am strong enough for this.
I recite the familiar mantra, the same one that has guided me through countless hours of harsh training, as I wait.
Lord Malis reclines in his chair, his cold, emotionless gaze fixed steadily upon me.
He picks up a small dagger from his desk, tapping it against the palm of his hand.
I steel myself to not so much as twitch under the brutal intensity of his surveillance.
The seconds drag by before he finally speaks.
“Do you know why I took you into the Aviary?”
The question catches me off guard.
It’s rhetorical—both he and I know the answer. Not only is the Eagle the authority of the Aviary, but the position also makes him an advisor to the Crown.
“Because my father wanted me gone, Eagle.” I force myself to remain still as he rises from his chair and approaches me, splitting my attention between his face and the dagger he still holds.
“Yes, and when he consulted me on the matter, I could not let such an opportunity pass me by. To have the royal blood of the Sorrows here, within my control. The possibilities, what I could accomplish with you. Endless.” My pulse spikes as he circles me, and a rush of energy floods my body when I lose sight of him.
Cold metal presses against my neck before he whispers his next words in my ear, dripping with something hungry.
Greedy. “I wonder, if I slit your throat open now, what else might bleed out of you?”
With effort, I force myself not to lash out—silently thanking all four of the Anemoi that he’s standing behind me and can’t see the strain that must show on my face. I school my expression to one of acceptance as the cold steel falls from my throat and Lord Malis steps in front of me.
“You will play a very particular role in this assignment, and I need you to be prepared,” he says.
Sharp words build on the tip of my tongue. Jagged and cutting, like shards of broken glass. But I swallow them down, wincing as they slice and scrape my throat along the way. “I will do whatever the Aviary requires of me, Eagle,” I say instead.
A cruel smirk curls his pale lips. He’s satisfied with the response, like he thinks he’s finally broken me. Decimated the person I once was.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
“You will play the role of…” He pauses, dragging out the moment like a viper before it strikes. “Princess Aella Sotiría of the Sorrows.”
His words land like a physical blow. It’s as though they strip away the fragile armor I’ve been clinging to, exposing the vulnerable parts of me I’ve tried so hard to protect.
I blink slowly, trying to reassure myself.
I was expecting this.
Joining the Aviary, being told by my masters not to dye my hair, the decoy—my decoy—acting out a false life among the acolytes. I knew there was a reason.
Still, just the idea of pretending to be my former self, the person I used to be, is a cruel joke. Reducing me to nothing more than a role I once played and will inevitably play again. The hardest part is that his words compel me to face the truth—this is all I’ll ever be.
My nails bite into the palms of my hands so hard I’m sure I’ve drawn blood. All I know is I can’t breathe, and I want to scream. But while pure chaos takes over my mind, I maintain my forged expression of passive acceptance.
I won’t let him see beneath the facade. I won’t let him have more power over me.
“As the Eagle commands,” I say with an incline of my head.
I don’t miss the flash of disappointment in his black eyes. Of course, the sick bastard wanted it to hurt.
I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
“Come now, Princess Aella,” he tuts, “Aren’t you curious why?”
“Why?” I force the word from my lips, almost wincing at the vicious cadence to it, but—fortunately—he’s all too eager to explain and doesn’t appear to notice.
“You will compete in Eretria’s Royal Trials to earn the position of the prince’s bride,” he begins, his gaze sharp and calculating.
“But this isn’t just about you—or even the Crown.
The Sorrows need true influence within Eretria’s court.
Their kingdom has long been a thorn in our side, obstructing trade routes and refusing negotiations.
And now, with whispers of their weapon, we can’t afford to remain in the dark.
“If you succeed, you won’t simply become a bride; you’ll be our eyes and ears at the heart of their power. Every whisper, every secret, every plan they hatch will flow back to us. This isn’t a game of romance—it’s a calculated move for control.”
My throat constricts at the smugness of his tone. I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry as sand. I’m seized by the sudden desire to lunge at him, snatch his blade, and shred the satisfied expression from his face. To paint the manuscript-lined wall with the crimson of his blood.
I breathe deeply and blink the violent vision away.
“What of my decoy?” I ask.
“She is being dealt with.” Something sinister gleams in his gaze, and I shiver. “Now, have I made myself clear?”
“Of course, Eagle. I’ll do my best.”
“You will not do your best. You will win.”
The edges of my vision blur before slamming back into sharp focus, just to watch any hope of a future crumble in the wake of his expectations. Winning would not only mean I would be trapped in a life at the side of a foreign prince. It would mean being the Eagle’s puppet on a set of long strings.
A fate there would be no escape from.
“You won’t disappoint me, Aella.” His cold voice cuts through my racing thoughts, but it’s the next words that shred through my mental defenses. “You remember what happens when you disappoint me, don’t you?”
Images invade my mind before I can strengthen my defenses.
Shattered planks of a boat…bubbles floating to the surface of a dark, hungry canal…a too-small hand reaching…and then gone.
The air leaves my lungs in a shuddering exhale. I blink rapidly to clear my vision, nervously twisting the ring on my finger to help center myself.
“I’m glad you are still clear on what’s at stake.
I would hate for any harm to befall our dear Nyssa.
She is a promising Songbird, after all.” His smile is as malicious as his words, sharp teeth glinting in the candlelight.
“If you succeed, I will allow her to stay there—you will need a handmaiden or two.”
“That is most gracious, Eagle.”
“Dismissed.”
I lower my head once more, forcing myself to turn and walk from the room with a measured stride. All I want is to run. To scream my rage at the lonely moon in the sky.
But I won’t. I can’t.
The Eagle’s message is obvious. If I fail, Nyssa will pay the price.
If she is the cage he chooses to trap me with, I will gladly stay prisoner for the rest of my existence. Anything to keep her safe.
I push the fury to the back of my mind, bury it in the shadows that linger there, and lock it away where no one else will ever find it.
Hopefully, not even me.