Chapter 38
“I may not be able to see you, but I can feel the tension rolling off you.”
I huff out a breath at Myna’s whisper as I follow her down the curving steps to the Aviary’s dungeon, wrinkling my nose once again at the smell of copper and damp earth.
The weight of my decision clings to me like a second skin, suffocating but impossible to shed.
I’m standing on the edge of something massive, a choice that will ripple through everything I know.
Helping Xan escape will change everything—and they’ll know it was me.
There’s no hiding this. No coming back from it.
But even as the fear claws at my insides, something fiercer burns beneath it.
I have to do this. Not because it’s safe.
Not because it’s smart. But because it’s right.
“Just stick to the plan,” she whispers, adjusting the tray of food she carries as we round the last corner and step into the antechamber.
I almost groan when one of the Nightwings perks up at the sight of Myna. An antagonistic smile twists his lips—Cardinal, I think his name is—as he leans back in his chair, balancing it precariously on the two back legs while he throws a dagger in the air and catches it again.
“What are you doing here, Myna?” he sneers, and the other three guards at the table chuckle quietly beside him.
“I just left the kitchen, and Cook asked me to bring this down.” She eyes the bowl of slop and stale lump of bread on the tray. “I assume it’s for the prisoner.”
He plants the chair back on all four legs and eyes the tray. With a dismissive grunt, he pulls the ring of keys from his pocket and tosses them at Myna. She catches them before they land in the bowl of gruel. “You take it. I don’t feel like dealing with him today.”
Myna’s jaw tenses, her eyes narrowing on Cardinal.
But she ignores him, turning on her heel and heading to the heavy wooden door that leads to the cells.
She balances the tray in one hand and unlocks the door with the other, and—after a brief glance in my general direction—she slips through, pulling the door firmly shut behind her.
I exhale—a low, shuddering breath—and steel myself. Myna, Nyssa, and Kal spent all night helping me weave this plan into something that might actually hold. But this next part depends solely on me.
And I cannot fuck it up.
Clenching my jaw in anticipation, I reach down and slip my ring from my finger.
The ever-present the?kós slumbering under my skin erupts the moment the metal slides free.
Not a gentle surge—an onslaught. My breath catches as it slams into me like a crashing tide, too much, too fast. Thank the Anemoi that the air in here is thin and stagnant, or it would already be spiraling out of control.
The memory of Hali claws its way to the surface—lungs gasping, the weight of failure pressing in—but I force it back. Not now.
My vision sharpens, the bitter tang of salt and mildew stings the back of my throat, and the temperature drops even further. I wrangle my writhing the?kós under control and cast my mind back to the night in the clearing.
To the fear.
The fury.
The sluggish air tangles around my fingers, and I coax it forward, each breath a negotiation, each motion a test of will.
My teeth grit as I fight to hold my focus, struggling to maintain my tentative hold on control.
Slowly, I feel it move toward me, gradually picking up pace as I draw it farther from the guards at the table.
“Did any of you feel that?” Cardinal asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
I freeze.
He peers around the dimly lit chamber, his frown deepening, causing the brows above his keen eyes to pinch tightly together. The atmosphere in the room shifts, becoming charged with a sense of unease.
The question hangs in the air, unanswered, as his voice trails off into a tense silence.
The other Nightwings pause their murmured conversation, glancing around the room, their expressions morphing into ones of curiosity mingled with concern.
Cardinal rises from his seat, and my heart rate spikes.
My the?kós responds to the panic, pulling the air from the space around them so suddenly, they collectively gasp.
As one, the four of them stagger, clutching at their throats as their eyes go wide.
It doesn’t take long for the lack of air to take its toll. One by one, they collapse to the cold stone floor of the chamber, their bodies limp and unconscious.
I slam the ring back on my finger, and the magic snaps into stillness. A haze drops over my vision like a veil pulled tight, and I stagger back, chest heaving.
Too close.
It’s always too close.
Wasting no time, I dart to Cardinal’s side and kneel next to his still body.
Holding my hand over his mouth, I exhale sharply when I feel the faint whisper of breath against my skin.
I make quick work of checking the others, confirming they’re all still breathing, before I open the door to the cells and head down the narrow corridor.
When I reach Xan’s cell, I find Myna—the ring of keys hanging from her hand while she still holds the tray with the other—watching him with narrowed eyes.
The man himself sits on the ground, head tilted back and eyes closed.
I pull the concealing pendant over my head, shivering as the magic falls away, just as Xan opens his eyes.
“Have you come to talk my ear off again? I think it might be more painful than the visits from your boy, Raven.” He spits the name like it’s poison on his tongue.
“Raven is not my anything.” My heart splinters as I say the words, and I ignore the way Myna’s eyes dart in my direction. “Besides, I’m not here to talk your ear off—kind of rude, by the way—I’m here to break you out.”
“And how do you plan on doing that? If you hadn’t noticed, I’m currently dripping in metal and locked behind bars.” He lifts his wrists, displaying the cuffs still wrapped around them.
Fortunately, they still haven’t chained him to the wall.
“If you’re going to be so pigheaded about it, maybe I should leave you here to rot,” I say, glaring at him through the bars before I gesture toward the keys in Myna’s hand. “If you hadn’t noticed, we have the solution to your little problem.”
Xan quirks an unimpressed eyebrow and regards us both skeptically.
“As fascinating as this all is,” Myna says dryly, “must I really remind you both, we’re on a time limit here.”
“Right.” I take a steadying breath. “First things first—let’s get you out of this cell and off these isles.”
I hold out my hand, and Myna passes me the key for the cell.
I step forward and push it into the lock, turning it with a resounding click.
A pained hiss passes through my clenched teeth as I grab a bar to pull the gate open, recalling the small goiteía etched into the metal too late.
From the corner of my eye, Xan lunges forward, and my stomach drops.
Fuck.
I’ve made a mistake. Raven and the Eagle both called him a weapon. A few brief conversations don’t make someone less of a stranger, so I have no idea how dangerous he is.
Xan snatches my wrist and pulls it away from the bar. His jaw clenches as he examines the patches of inflamed skin on my palm.
“You should have let me open it.”
I roll my eyes and yank my arm away, feigning casualness as I struggle to breathe through the panic that has my heart racing and my magic roiling under my skin. “Save the chivalry for someone who needs it.”
He laughs, a low and raw sound, more broken than amused. “Continue with your daring rescue, then, little bird.”
I snatch the ring of keys from the cell door’s lock and test each key against the cuffs at his wrists. One notches into place, the iron shackle falling, and I make quick work of the other.
The sound of pottery cracking pulls my attention from him, and I turn to Myna, eyes wide as she looks up expectantly from where she’s dropped the tray. Broken bits of pottery and gruel are splattered across the stone.
“You’ll need to take me out too.”
“I…” My heart pounds painfully against the cage of my ribs. The thought of harming her after everything she has done. The risks she has taken—
“May I?” Xan asks, brushing past me. I jolt from the contact, the thoughts eddying from my mind.
Myna goes still, a lethal glimmer lighting her eyes as they track him. He pauses in front of her, and I hold my breath as he seems to wait for her permission. Those dark eyes flick to me, a warning swirling in their depths, before she inclines her head.
Xan extends a large, callused hand, his thumb striking hard into the flesh where her neck slopes toward her shoulder. Myna exhales, a sudden gasp escaping her lips, her eyes rolling back into her head as she succumbs to the pressure.
I rush forward, my arms outstretched, catching her just in time to ease her limp body to the ground.
Rising from my crouched stance, I turn to face the man looming behind me.
But with the gap between us bridged, my eyes catch on the finer details of torment that had eluded my earlier observation—the deep, ominous shadows beneath his eyes, the way he favors his left side, and the many scars that speak of suffering and resilience—and any frustration I felt withers away.
“Here,” I say, passing him the pendant still clutched in my hand. “Put this on. It will conceal you from sight. Stay right behind me.”
I wait for him to slip the necklace over his head, blinking as the magic takes effect and his form fades from sight, and then lead him down the narrow corridor until we reach the guard room. When I see the four Nightwings still passed out cold, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Your handiwork?” Xan asks, and I shiver as his breath skitters across the shell of my ear.
“They’re alive. But you’ll hopefully be long gone before they come to.”