Chapter 7 #2
She curses and glares at the top bunk like it’s hiding a nest of poisonous snakes. “How long are we at sea again?”
“About a week, depending on the weather.”
At that moment, the ship gives a sudden lurch, and we both fall forward onto my bunk.
“Notos’s balls! What was that?”
I push back the hair that’s escaped my braid, amused at the fact she’s already adopted the sailor’s curse I taught her the other day. “I think the crew pushed off from the dock.”
“So we’re not about to be buried in a watery grave?”
“Not yet.” I grin wickedly, and she groans.
“I hate this endless rocking motion already.”
I eye her skeptically. “We travel on ferries all the time.”
“This is different,” she pouts.
“Come on, the last thing we need to do is make a poor impression and arrive late for our meeting.”
“Ugh. I just want to lie here and pray to the Anemoi for swift winds.”
“That’s the spirit,” I say cheerfully.
She salutes me with her middle finger but reluctantly hauls herself off the bunk and trails after me.
When we arrive, the rest of Alpha Flight has already assembled in the captain’s cabin.
Nyssa and I rush to our seats at a large oak table, its surface carved with a detailed map of the Empyrieos, every line and contour etched with remarkable precision.
As Flight Commander, Raven sits at the head of the table, with Lark taking the seat to his right.
Both scrutinize the nicks and grooves in the wood like they hold all the secrets of the realm.
“We all know the aim of our assignment, but I’ll go over it once again for the benefit of our new members.”
Eyes from all around the table flick toward Nyssa and me. Heron rubs at his temple and leans back in his seat.
“Our orders are to infiltrate the Royal Court of Eretria and seize the weapon they have found. On our last trip, we narrowed down a list of potential locations where it could be hidden. On that list are the dungeons and passages below the castle and the vaults hidden within the mountain.” Raven pauses and casts his eyes around the table.
When everyone nods, he goes on. “We have extensive logs of the guard detail and schedules throughout the palace, including these specific locations. Additionally, we’ve managed to bring some assets on board, mainly servants and a few lower-tier guards.
This time around, our presence will be more public.
Starling will pose as Princess Aella and participate in the upcoming trials set to take place in one and a half weeks.
Her role is partly to distract the royal family during our search for the weapon, but her ultimate objective is to win.
Sparrow and Myna will accompany her as handmaidens, and will remain in Vilea after.
The rest of us will assume positions as servants and guards within her entourage. ”
“Remind us why the Fledglings needed to come,” Heron says, his tone suggesting this isn’t the first time this conversation has taken place. “Myna knows the etiquette and protocols. She could easily have played the part.”
Myna snorts and shakes her head.
“That could have worked,” Raven says slowly, “except Myna is more valuable if she can disappear and help with the search. Besides, Starling has received specialized training for a role such as this.”
Heron lowers his chin, taking in the information, while I fight to keep a straight face.
A knee brushes against mine beneath the table, drawing my attention to Nyssa. She offers me a small, reassuring smile, and I return it with quiet gratitude for her unspoken support.
It feels surreal to listen as the others discuss this part of the mission.
Instead of the anger I might have expected, a wry sense of amusement takes hold.
Nyssa and I are the only ones who know the truth about my identity.
Even the most revered Nightwings in the Aviary remain oblivious, shrouded in the same carefully maintained ignorance.
“Starling has a charm to change her hair and eye color to match the princess’s and will make her transformation before we reach Eretria.” Raven’s tone brooks no argument, and Heron narrows his eyes at me from across the table.
I offer him a cheerful smile in return.
That’s a definite no on the hair braiding.
Lory tries—and fails—to smother a laugh, his hazel eyes sparkling with mirth in the lantern light.
“Rather than heading to Port Serre on Eretria’s southern coast and traveling overland,” Raven continues, “we’ll be taking a route along the eastern seaboard and traveling through the Sarathros before docking at Corinth.
It will extend our time at sea by a few days, but from that point, the court is a three-day journey by carriage. ”
My heart pounds with each detail, a drumbeat of anxiety and anticipation.
The thought of competing for a prince’s hand—a future I never envisioned—tightens my chest with dread and defiance.
At the same time, the realization that this plan has been in motion for so long without my knowledge stirs a mixture of betrayal and determination.
A week’s notice isn’t enough time to arrange these details.
Nyssa catches my eye, brows lifting in a way that tells me she’s thinking the same.
“The king is anticipating our arrival?” Myna asks.
“He is.” A shadow flickers across Raven’s face, gone as quickly as it appeared.
“We sent a bird expressing our intention for Princess Aella to compete. The king responded with an extension of his hospitality but a refusal to delay the trials to await her arrival. With the time constraints, he also said there will be no one to greet us upon our arrival to the kingdom, but we will be welcomed at the palace.”
The cabin goes silent, the weight of the king’s pointed slight settling over our group like an unwelcome shadow, each of us acutely aware of the implications behind his words.
Since the God War, the Sorrows has been regarded with lower esteem than the other kingdoms, a sentiment led by Eretria.
But failure to greet foreign royalty upon their arrival is a clear display of just how little respect they hold.
Heron clears his throat, commanding our attention. “Do we have an exit strategy?”
The Aviary whispers about him as well, though not as often as they do about Myna. But they speak of his sharp wit and strategic mind, said to be as incisive as his features. Watching his eyes meticulously scan the map, I can see the foundation behind those rumors.
“There will be plenty of chances for us to act and make our escape. With the entire court occupied by the trials and the final celebration ball, only the servants will be paying attention. Our success will hinge on how swiftly we locate the weapon and how effectively we manage to secure it.” Raven surveys the room one last time, meeting each gaze with a quiet confidence.
“Until then, stay focused. We can’t afford missteps. ”
With a curt nod, he turns and strides out, his presence commanding even as he leaves. The others exchange brief glances before following, their footsteps echoing softly against the walls until silence envelops the space.
Until Nyssa and I are the only ones left at the table.
I bite my lip, suffocating under the weight of guilt while she sits deep in thought, her brow furrowed in a way that makes my heart sink.
Because I know I haven’t been fully honest with her.
I told her about the Eagle’s plan the day after we were summoned to his study, explaining my mission beyond Alpha Flight’s and how it would affect her.
But I left out one crucial detail: the Eagle’s threat to her life if I fail.
His cold, piercing gaze and the weight of his words still haunt me. I didn’t want her to carry that burden, didn’t want her to feel the crushing anxiety that’s kept me awake every night since. But now I can’t shake the fear that shielding her may have left her unprepared for what’s ahead.
At first, the idea of royal espionage had thrilled her.
Her eyes lit up like she’d been handed a grand adventure like those told in the Aviary.
But now, as we sit in this tense silence, I wonder if reality is hitting her harder than we expected.
This isn’t just a game of wits or cunning.
The mission is far more dangerous than I ever imagined for our first assignment.
I feel guilty for burdening her with this. Guilty for not telling her the whole truth—not that she could have refused the assignment. Now, as I watch her wrestle with her thoughts, I don’t know if she is overwhelmed by trepidation or is simply bracing for the dangers about to crash down on us.
After long, drawn-out minutes, she finally breaks the silence. Instead of the hesitant confession I anticipated, Nyssa’s laughter bounces off the walls of the cabin.
“I still can’t believe you have to compete for a prince,” she finally gets out between gasping breaths, laughter shaking her shoulders.
My confusion dies a swift and brutal death, and I hit her with my most murderous glare. “Nyssa.”
“Yeah?” she manages, her voice trembling as tears of laughter bloom in her eyes. She tries, and utterly fails, to wrangle her grin into something resembling control.
“Shut the fuck up.”
As night descends, the ship glides farther away from the familiar shores of the Sorrows.
The sea calmed throughout the day, and now the gentle sway of the vessel should bring comfort, yet sleep remains out of reach.
Restless, I turn over and grab my pack from the floor, rummaging through its contents until my fingers close around a small vial.
Lifting it into the moonlight trickling through the porthole, I study the tiny black seeds within, their surfaces glistening in the dim glow.
The temptation is overwhelming—to take just one and let its soothing embrace pull me into a dreamless sleep. Just one.