Chapter 32
“Quickly, El,” Hali says, panic sharpening her voice. “We need to get the sail down.”
I don’t know what I’m doing, but I rush to help her with the boat’s sail. Her father was a fisherman, so she knows better than I do. I fumble with the ropes, my hands trembling, but finally the sail falls.
A smile tugs at my lips, but the triumph doesn’t last long.
“This was a mistake, Aella.” The cold voice freezes me in place, and my eyes widen with terror as they land on the man standing at the dock’s edge, two cloaked figures hovering behind him.
The Eagle.
“Grab her,” he says. “Kill the other. There is no room for disloyalty in the Aviary.”
Hali whimpers beside me, gripping tightly to my arm.
Fear clutches at my heart, a sharper pain than Hali’s fingernails biting into my skin. I shove her back and charge toward the cloaked men before they can board. I slam into one, knocking him into the other, and we fall to the dock.
“Go, Hali!” I scream at my friend.
One man grabs me, and I struggle against him as the other stands and makes for the boat.
“I can’t,” Hali says, snatching an oar and pushing off from the dock. “There’s no wind! Please, Notos.”
Don’t let her die. Please don’t let her die.
Something wild rises within me. Something chaotic. Destructive.
It’s too much—
I scream, and the wind screams with me.
The sail snaps open. Too much—too hard—and the boat careens through the water, crashing into a dock on the other side of the canal. It shatters, and Hali cries as her body is thrown, the sound cutting off as her head smashes into a wooden post and she falls into the water.
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 neck, forcing my gaze up to the monster looming over me. The Eagle’s mouth twists into a sneer.
“Such a shame.”
I blink away the remnants of the repressed memory, but my unleashed the?kós latches on to the lingering pain.
The moment I took the ring off, it roared to life, rising from that hidden place within the depths of my soul.
The place it had been slumbering.
Suppressed.
The world is sharper, the air crisper. And rather than hearing the wind like a whisper, I hear it like a scream.
Fear forgotten, I breathe in deep, relishing the way the air dances through my fingers.
I clench my hands into fists and pull—drawing the element toward me—watching with a mixture of horror and fascination as the soldier’s eyes go wide.
He drops his sword, and both hands fly toward his throat as he falls to his knees, his face turning blue as he struggles to draw his next breath.
“Not…possible,” the soldier chokes out.
“It shouldn’t be,” I agree. Because he’s right.
The Anemoi never gifted control of the wind and skies. That power belonged to the gods and mythical beings in bedtime stories. The very idea of anyone else possessing it would be considered blasphemous.
Dangerous.
Cautiously, I step forward, picking his sword up off the ground.
“More…will come,” he gasps. “He will…”
I straighten and hold the blade to his neck. My eyes connect with his as they beg me for air.
“Let him try,” I say, drawing the blade across his throat.
With a shuddering breath, I turn and walk back a few paces until I spot the ring, nestled among the bloodstained grass where I dropped it. I kneel and pick it up, the moonlight shining across the small goiteía carved on its inner surface. The ones that kept my the?kós hidden for so long.
The wind keens—a broken sound—and whips the loose hair around my face.
I ignore it, slipping the ring back on my finger.
My eyes close as relief washes over me, the world softening around the edges.
The power still hums beneath my skin, a restless storm waiting to be unleashed.
Even with the ring back on my finger, I can feel it, like a caged beast clawing at the bars.
I press a trembling hand to my chest, trying to steady my breathing, but the soldier’s face lingers in my mind—his wide, terrified eyes, the life draining from them.
Another image rises unbidden: a face framed by dark, cascading curls, cheeks kissed by sunlight, and a playful, teasing smile. My breath catches, my heart tightening painfully. Hali. The memory is still too raw, her loss a wound that refuses to heal. My childhood friend, too soft for the Aviary.
Too good for someone like me.
I exhale a shaky breath as the charmed ring forces the memory back into the depths of my mind where it belongs. But the weight of it lingers, pressing down on my chest like a stone. I open my eyes, and my breath catches again—this time for an entirely different reason.
Myna stands before me, her face unreadable, but her gaze cuts through me like a blade.
I hold it without blinking, even though I’m screaming on the inside.
There is no doubt she saw.
I glance past her, scanning for the other members of the Flight. Each of them, however, is absorbed in their own task—either putting an end to their battles or searching the fallen soldiers for any signs of life.
“Myna.” Her name comes out choked. I have no idea what I’m going to say. Panicked thoughts clamor in my mind, each fighting to take precedence. I clear my throat and start again. “Myna, what you saw—”
“I saw nothing.” Her words are firm, but her eyes betray her.
There’s something there—something I can’t quite name.
Fear? Pity? Understanding? I want to ask her why she’s protecting me, why she’s willing to keep my secret, but the words catch in my throat.
Instead, I nod, swallowing the lump in my chest. Myna turns away, her shoulders stiff, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ve just made an enemy—or an ally.
“Thank you.” The words travel from my lips on a sigh.
A lifetime of keeping this secret, and my efforts almost crumbled away in the blink of an eye.
It’s not that it would have been strange for me to have the?kós, I just shouldn’t be able to harness the power of the wind.
To many, the idea would be sacrilegious.
My panic may have made me vulnerable, but my fury left me exposed. I can’t let it happen again. I need to regain control, to tame the maelstrom that rages within me.
“Aella!”
Nyssa runs at me, throwing her arms around my neck. Over her shoulder, Myna frowns. The air stutters out of my lungs when her lips firm, but she shakes her head and turns away.
I pull back from Nyssa, cupping her face as I examine every inch of her. The tension in my shoulders shifts a fraction when I see she’s mostly free of blood.
“Are you okay?” I ask anyway, needing to hear the words from her lips.
“Yes. And you?”
“I’m fine.” I lean in closer, until my nose brushes the arch of her ear, and whisper, “Don’t forget to call me Starling.”
Her eyes widen as she jerks back, and she nods.
Raven approaches us, the others in tow. They’re all painted in gore from head to toe. Lark moves to Nyssa’s side, draping an arm across her shoulders and drawing her in. Uncaring or oblivious to the filth that covers him, she nestles in closer.
The remaining tension drains from my body as my eyes track over Raven. Even though blood drips from his skin, none of it appears to be his own. His gaze is cold as it wanders my body, but when his eyes meet mine, the iciness retreats, relief returning some of their usual warmth.
My heart clenches with the need to go to him, to touch him and talk to him and reassure myself that he is okay. But my muscles lock up, my feet growing roots and making me immobile.
He must see a hint of my internal struggle written on my face, because a small frown creases between his brows before he turns to Lory. “How the fuck did they catch us unaware? If it weren’t for Starling waking us, we would all be dead right now.”
Lory winces, showing no trace of the typical jokester I’ve come to know. “I was checking on the weapon to make sure it was still secure. I’m sorry, Commander. They must have been too far out at that point—I didn’t hear them approaching.”
Raven’s jaw clenches before he nods tersely.
His eyes flick back to mine, but he doesn’t question me.
If he was already awake when I went back to wake the Flight, then no doubt he witnessed my nightmares chasing me from the homestead.
Gods, the walls are so worn down he could have heard me falling apart outside.
“It’s no longer safe to stay here until morning,” he says. “The soldiers must have tracked you when you left the court, and we don’t know if they’ve communicated with Keres or not.”
“More will come,” I say, the soldier’s dying words as he struggled for breath flashing through my mind. I clear my throat when all eyes turn to me. “The last soldier I…he said more will come.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.
No one speaks, but I can feel the weight of their thoughts pressing down on me.
More will come. The soldier’s warning echoes in my mind, a grim reminder that we’re not safe.
That we’ll never be safe. His words were sharp, like the edge of a blade, cutting through the fleeting hope we tried to cling to.
Because what we’ve started here will not end once we leave Eretria behind.
I see the same realization etched across the faces of my Flight—tightened lips, clenched jaws.
We all understand the weight of our actions, knowing the consequences will shadow us, lingering with every step we take, even if we escape this moment.
The silence stretches on, broken only by the distant rustle of leaves in the wind.
It feels like the world is holding its breath, waiting for the next blow to fall.