Chapter 21
I scream and the sail snaps open. Too much—too hard—and the boat flies through the water, crashing into a dock on the other side of the canal.
A sob rips from my throat as her hand disappears beneath the bubbling surface last, as though she’s reaching for me—begging me to save her.
A cold grip tightens around my throat—
A door slams in the outer room of my chambers and I bolt upright in bed, my heart racing as I blink away the remnants of my nightmare. They’ve been much too frequent since I stopped taking the somniseed.
The sound of raised voices and heavy footsteps gets closer, and I scramble toward my nightstand, grabbing my dagger and ripping it from the sheath as the door explodes open.
“Fucking Notos!” I shout, relief washing over me at the sight of Nyssa and Raven. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
I throw the dagger onto the bed and rub my hands over my face, flinging myself back down among the pillows. An expectant silence fills the room, and I peer through my fingers to find two furious faces watching me.
“What?” I ask, dropping my hands.
“What?” Nyssa repeats, her voice dangerously calm.
“You can’t ask what. I asked it first.”
“What the fuck, Starling?” Raven thunders, storming farther into the room. “Where were you last night?”
Realization dawns on me as his question penetrates the morning fog of my mind. The memories of last night’s journey with Titaia through the tunnels crash through my thoughts. I bolt upright again, an unrestrained smile taking over my face. “I found it.”
“What do you mean?” Raven crosses his arms over his broad chest as he continues to glare at me. “You found what?”
“The weapon,” I say with a casual shrug.
Nyssa’s jaw drops, and Raven’s eyes sharpen on me, the muscles in his jaw flexing, words clawing at his throat, but nothing comes.
His fists tighten at his sides, and for a fleeting second, I think he might explode.
Instead, his voice is low, taut, almost breaking.
“Do you think this was worth it? Risking yourself? Do you have any idea—” He cuts himself off, his chest rising sharply like he’s swallowing something bitter.
I slip out of bed, stretching my arms above my head, and saunter over to the closet.
I grab the first gown I see and retreat into the bathing room to change.
When I turn back, neither of them has moved an inch.
Both still look incredulous and furious.
Raven narrows his eyes at me before spinning on his heel and stalking off.
“Meeting,” he barks. “Now!”
Nyssa shakes her head at me. “You are in so much trouble.”
I wince. “How bad is it?”
She doesn’t respond at first, a contemplative look on her face. “He was really worried, Aella—so was I—but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him act that way before.”
“I don’t understand,” I say, but foolish little butterflies take flight in my stomach, beating their wings in time with the pounding of my heart.
I smother them—holding my breath captive as I hunt down and extinguish each flicker from existence. Once it’s done, my chest aches with the new emptiness.
Much better.
She scowls at me, grabbing my arm and towing me toward the sitting room.
I freeze when every pair of eyes turns toward me. Anger and irritation radiate from each of the Nightwings, making the atmosphere stifling.
“Uhhh, good morning?” I say, folding my hands in front of my body as I shift beneath the heavy weight of their gazes.
Heron scoffs, shaking his head and looking around at the others with frustration written on his face. “What did you all expect, taking Fledglings on a mission like this?”
“Songbirds,” I correct, collapsing onto the sofa.
“Enough,” Raven snaps, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Starling, why don’t you enlighten us all about your revelation this morning?”
I narrow my eyes and sit up straighter at his tone, irritation coiling through me. “First, let me preface this by saying I tried to find someone last night. But this is an enormous palace to search for trained spies and assassins.”
Raven’s jaw tenses, but he nods. “Go on.”
“I believe I found the location of the weapon.”
“You believe,” he presses, “or you know?”
“I know,” I say, the words steady as I hold his gaze. We stare at each other, unblinking, neither of us willing to back down.
A throat clears.
“How did you find it?” Lory asks, and I tear my eyes away from Raven to study the frowning faces of my Flight around me.
I hadn’t seen anyone watching the hallway, but I’d assumed one of them was nearby—just out of sight. Judging by the matching echoes of curiosity on their faces, they were needed elsewhere. Maybe they have their own missions here. Just as I have mine.
“The hidden passage we were monitoring,” I say evenly. “I found the key to open it.”
Silence stretches, taut and charged.
“And the key?” Myna prompts.
I take a deep breath, settling myself more comfortably on the couch as I mentally prepare myself for a long morning. “Blood.”
By the time I’ve finished relaying my story of Sphinx, the blood mark hiding the secret tunnels, and Titaia’s wish to free the poor creature, my head is pounding.
The others spend hours drilling me with questions and sketching floor plans of the passageways and tunnels that lead to Keres’s workrooms.
As I predicted he would, Raven almost loses it when he hears how I followed Titaia. But his ire is nothing compared to the furious silence I receive when I tell them of my bargain with Sphinx.
I sketch out the goiteía from her collar, and Heron and I devise the best sequence of marks to nullify them.
If those don’t work, we will need to damage the carvings enough to break through the binding effect.
Afterward, I watch in silence as the others make plans and Raven gives everyone orders to prepare.
I’d hoped he would stay once we were done, but he storms out before I even have a chance to ask.
Sorrow and irritation war within me as I recall his refusal to even look me in the eye as he left.
It’s not that I don’t understand what I did was reckless—I do.
But taking a chance on Titaia and making the bargain are also the reasons our mission may be a success.
The memory of Sphinx’s luminous eyes lingers, and I can still hear her voice, low and steady, whispering of secrets and promises.
The weight of our pact presses on my mind now, the invisible mark on my chest pulsing with the implications of what I’ve done.
There is no going back, no undoing the deal.
But I can’t shake the question buried deep in my chest—what price would I pay if we fail?
A soft scuff sounds behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to find Lark watching me from the doorway, a more serious expression than I have ever seen on his face.
“What?” I grumble.
“I know you won’t want to hear this.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “But be careful with Raven.”
“You’re right.” I glare back at him. “I don’t want to hear it. Besides, there’s nothing I need to be careful of. I’ll be staying here, and he will be returning to the Sorrows.”
“If that’s true, then why did he have us searching this entire palace to find you last night instead of the weapon?”
I open my mouth to respond but stop, his words hitting me like a sudden wave.
If what Lark says is true, then Raven had been worried enough to delay their search because he believed I was in danger.
The idea catches me off guard—I hadn’t thought that kind of concern was even possible, not after seeing how angry he was.
But could it be that his anger was masking something deeper, something closer to genuine fear?
The foolish butterflies from earlier reappear, but Lark’s next words put an end to them once again.
“You know what the Aviary demands of us,” Lark says quietly, his voice lacking the familiar teasing lilt. His gaze is steady, almost sad. “It’s the kind of place that doesn’t tolerate second priorities. Even wanting one…it’s a liability.”
The words aren’t cruel, just measured, a truth sharpened by affection. They strike a chord I don’t want to hear.
After a brief moment of hesitation, Lark turns away and walks out, quietly closing the door behind him.
I grind my jaw in irritation, but it bleeds out of me. It doesn’t matter; I know where Raven and I stand.
Soon, it will be in two separate kingdoms.
The sanctuary of the performance troupe is a stark contrast to the grandeur of the palace.
Dimly lit and infused with the faint, earthy scent of incense, it feels more like a haven than a rehearsal space.
The lyre’s dulcet tones weave through the air, synchronizing with the soft rustle of silk against stone.
Yet beneath the elegance of each note lurks a constant undercurrent of unease.
Eleni circles me like an exacting hawk, her sharp eyes scanning every movement, every line of my posture.
Her perfectionism pushes me past my limits, her demanding nature both a blessing and a curse.
Pan, however, is my anchor—his humor and playful reassurances cut through the weight of expectation that Eleni never spares me from.
Nyssa stands apart but watchful, her quiet solidarity a reminder that I’m not alone in this.
It’s an unlikely mix, but somehow, it works—though I can’t ignore the guilt that creeps in when I use the troupe performers’ camaraderie as a shield for my true motives.
Uncovering the weapon’s location has shifted the stars in our favor, but the relief was fleeting.
With the Flight now focusing on an extraction plan, the weight of what lies ahead presses heavily on all of us.
Every detail matters—every misstep could unravel the fragile thread of hope we cling to.
My role is clear enough—prepare for the third trial, gather information when possible, and ensure my performance provides the necessary distraction.