55. Wren
Ibolt from Cassiel’s side in a rush of feathers and air, slipping through the narrow gap of the window before anyone can stop me.
Fly.
Just—fly.
Don’t look back.
The castle falls away beneath me, stone shrinking as I climb, wings beating harder than they need to. I force myself to stay looking ahead, but Cassiel is behind me, and further away I go, the tighter the pain in my chest becomes, like the threads that connect us are threatening to snap.
I don’t slow until I’m clear of the city and the air feels less like a trap.
Only then do I drop, landing on a treebranch to gather my breath. I find a couple of nuts to eat, but I need more, and I can’t transform when I’m completely naked.
I have a few spares back at the cave, but it’s a fair distance to the Duskfen still, and I’m not sure I have the strength.
Looks like a bit of light thievery is in order.
I pick a large house in the middle of nowhere and slip in through a narrow hole in the roof, padding down in the attic.
The house is quite quiet, with only a handful of servants.
No one notices a little bird flitting through the corridor and into what I hope is a spare bedroom.
I don’t want to steal anything that will be missed, however great my need might be.
Needing a pair of hands to search more easily, I transform and close the door. It’s a nice room. Soft carpets. It has the faint smell of perfume and polish, too devoid of personal items to be a room in constant use.
I move quickly, rifling through wardrobes until I find something that might fit. The dresses are too fine. I ignore them completely, but I find a loose shirt that’s a decent enough fit, a pair of breeches, and a fine tunic.
Shoes are harder. There’s only one pair of boots and they’re far too big.
I grab socks instead. As many as I can find. Layer them, one over the other until my feet are thick with them, awkward but warm enough.
It’ll do. It has to.
I flit down to the kitchens next, lingering on the windowsill until the cook slips out, and taking a heel of bread and an apple. There’s no time to take more. I grab my spoils and flee before she can return.
I scoff the food down in a meadow a few fields away. One day, I won’t have to steal. One day, I’ll enjoy a real meal again with fine company.
One day, one day, one day.
The sky darkens. I’m still too tired to go back to the cave. Instead, I circle wide and settle on the edge of another estate—one with a high roof and an attic window half-broken.
Inside is dust and old, forgotten things. No one comes up here.
Perfect.
I stay the night.
And the next day.
And the next.
Resting. Waiting. Thinking. Stealing downstairs in the dead of night to pilfer food or nipping down to the market to swipe away stray food.
I’m not even sure why I’m lingering. I should go back to the forest. It will be safer there.
Alessandra will struggle to follow me into the Duskfen. Why don’t I go?
You know why, says a quiet voice.
I sigh. I just need to see him again, just once, just to know—
I don’t finish the thought.
No one ever said I was the smart one, after all. This is probably a very dumb decision, but I was a fool long before I fell in love.
The castle looks the same from the outside, like nothing inside it has shifted at all. At a distance, I could still convince myself that Cassiel was the one in charge, and that I risked nothing but my feelings sneaking in to see him.
I circle it a couple of times, keeping high, trying to catch a glimpse of Cassiel’s room without alerting anyone else to my presence. I’m not much of a target, but…
Something red waves at his windowsill.
Red?
I slow mid-flight, wings catching the air as I hover just long enough to stare. It’s the opposite of blue. If blue means “I need your help, please come” red can only mean…
My chest tightens.
“Cassiel…” I whisper, though no sound carries in this form.
I drift closer without meaning to. Just a little. Just enough to see if—
An arrow whistles past my wing.
I drop. Instinct takes over, body folding, diving hard toward the wall as another shot cracks through the air. Too close. Too fast.
They’re aiming at me.
I veer sharply, slipping onto a narrow windowsill just below the line of sight, pressing myself flat against the stone. My tiny heart hammers in my tiny chest.
“Missed it,” one of the guards mutters above.
“You were barely aiming,” another replies. “Orders are orders, you know.”
“Still don’t like it.”
“Don’t matter what you like. Queen said shoot any bird that comes near.”
A pause follows.
“Whole thing’s strange,” one continues. “Locking the prince in his own rooms? Since when do we do that?”
“Since she said so.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
I stay very, very still. My heart hasn’t slowed. My gaze flicks up toward the window again—towards the red scarf, still twisting in the wind. Of course it’s a warning.
Idiot, I whisper to myself this time.
Cassiel, as ever, has been the smart one, although I wonder what he’s said to his mother to get locked up in his rooms? I’m not sure who I’m more annoyed by: Cassiel for doing something foolish, or Alessandra for imprisoning him.
Wait, no. It’s definitely Alessandra.
I take a deep breath, or as deep as these little bird lungs will allow. Did I do the right thing, bringing her back?
I think so. Despite everything, I think that was the right call.
But the Wren in a week’s time might have an entirely different answer.