by T. A. White
Identical snarls crossed their faces.
She should have known they'd be stubborn. At least she'd tried. "Then I guess you're going where no Avertine or bearcat has gone before."
That's not necessarily true. Night's tail flicked.
"It doesn't change anything," Dewdrop snapped. "You belong with us. No woman bearcat is going to get in the way of that."
Night shook himself as he gazed up at Dewdrop. Tate’s already had this conversation with me. Don’t worry, my friend. I know I’m not alone.
Dewdrop stared down at Night, his lips pressed together. He nodded once. “As long as you don’t forget.”
The two ambled away to investigate the winged devices, leaving Tate behind.
She would be lying if she said she didn’t share in the two’s uneasiness at the thought of flying in the wingers, nothing between the ground and her but a few scraps of canvas and wood.
"How is he?" Ryu appeared next to her, his approach as silent as Night's.
"Coping."
They were quiet as they watched the bustle of the Kinjisan as they prepared the wingers for flight.
"Ryu, I think you were right," Tate said uneasily.
"About what?"
"We should have killed Christopher when we had the chance."
His gaze swung to her. "Why do you say that?"
"The wall paintings. Christopher had a device that looked very similar to one of the drawings. I can't help but think someone is guiding him in his agenda."
And she thought that person might be Peter, she added silently. Christopher had said the Silva was the one who'd procured the device for him, but maybe that was another of his misdirects.
His head bent as he thought. "Then it's a good thing you talked me into letting him live."
Tate studied him in surprise.
"If you hadn't, we wouldn't know there was another person on the playing board," Ryu said. "They'd be free to move without us being the wiser. Now, we can anticipate their moves."
Yes, but if they'd eliminated Christopher, he would no longer be a threat. The mystery person would have to find a new patsy, one who might not be as adept at slipping through Tate's defenses. Of course, the opposite was also a possibility. This person might find someone who was even more dangerous and unhinged than the heretic.
"How are you doing with all this?" Ryu asked.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Coping."
She felt his regard as he studied her. "It is a lot to take in, I expect—learning you were a Savior and that your former Savior lover had left a powerful weapon behind. It'd be difficult for anyone."
Tate watched as Dewdrop and Night prodded the wings, only to be ushered away by one of the Silva as they prepared the small contraptions for flight.
"Don't bother denying it," he said. Unexpectedly his eyes were warm, showing no hint of anger or upset. "I'm more observant than you give me credit for."
The words held a hint of a bite.
"I never thought I could hide anything from you. You're always the one who seems to know things, even before I do."
He waited, silently asking if that was the case, why hadn't she ever told him about her past or what she suspected?
Tate lifted a shoulder, shame crossing her face. "I didn't want anyone to know. I didn't want it to change things."
Because it would, if it ever got out.
"Those people, Jaxon and everyone else. They don't belong in this era." Tate didn't belong here either. "I didn't want to bring their war here."
But it seemed no matter how hard she fought against it, the past just kept dragging her back. First, the ancient she'd awoken, now this weapon Jax had hidden that she needed to make sure didn't fall into the wrong hands.
"You're afraid," he said as if just realizing.
Tate looked away, fighting the urge to curl in on herself.
He stepped closer, touching her arm. "Why?"
How to put into words, something you didn't entirely understand yourself?
"What if I remember everything and I find out I'm a terrible person?" she confessed. "You don't sentence someone to an eternal sleep if they don't deserve it. My memories might still be patchy but I sense I've done terrible things."
Unforgivable things.
The comfort of ignorance had been ripped from her. She was afraid if she remembered everything, it would destroy the person she was trying to become. The one Dewdrop and Night considered a sister, the woman Ryu had finally started letting behind the wall he’d erected between him and everyone else.
Ryu was silent as Tate looked away, unable to meet his eyes after that confession.
She couldn't help but feel what they'd started between them was over before it had even begun. Selfishly, she wanted more.
But that wasn't how life worked. Sometimes it kicked you in the teeth when you were already down. Life was a cruel bitch and you had to take things as they came, instead of wishing they were different and becoming bitter.
"You know some of my past," Ryu finally said. "You know some of what I did."
Tate finally lifted her head.
"I know you," he said, the words reaching through to the place in Tate that felt lost and oh-so-alone. It was something that had been with her for as far back as her memories went. "Nothing you say could change that."
Tate wanted to believe him. She wanted it all the way down to the marrow of her bones. It was just so hard to trust he meant what he said, to put faith in the fact he wouldn't abandon her or look at her differently once he knew everything.
Some things he might suspect, having put them together with the other pieces he'd gleaned, but that was different than knowing. Once he did, there would be no going back.
"Were you two lovers?"
"I don't know."
He arched an eyebrow.
"I don't. Everything is still a blur. I know there was something there, a depth of feeling I can still recall, but whether that is the degree of feeling I have for Dewdrop and Night or the way I feel for you, is hard to say."
All of this was complicated. For the rest of the world, Jaxon's passing would have been a millennium ago. For Tate, who was just now getting her memories back, it felt much more recent.
"It's strange how he keeps popping up."
Tate nodded. "I think so too. It's almost like someone is trying to guide me to him."
Which made her trust what she felt and knew even less than normal.
"Do Night and Dewdrop know you were part of the Saviors’ circle?" Ryu asked.
Tate shook her head. "If they do, they’ve kept it to themselves."
She didn't like keeping secrets but this one felt too momentous to casually entrust to others.
"The Grand Master suspects."
Tate shifted, her gaze turning guilty. "He knows. The guardians have a secret storeroom with artifacts from that age. I'm in one of them."
"Then Vale knows, too," Ryu said, turning his gaze toward the guardian.
Tate shook her head. "No, the Grand Master said he didn't. That room is only for the highest of their order."
Ryu nodded slowly. "You're right to keep this quiet. It would have far-reaching repercussions if it got out." He pulled her against him, his arms wrapping around her. "I'm glad I know. It explains a few things."
Tate let her head rest against his chest, breathing in the warm scent of Ryu and his dragon. It was one of her favorite things about him.
He pressed a light kiss to her forehead, whispering. "This doesn't change things between us. I worked too hard to draw you into this dance, to give you up for someone who is long dead. If you ever left me, I'd follow you to the corners of the earth. Into the underworld and beyond."
He stepped back, staring down at her as if mentally willing her to understand the depth of his resolve. Tate nodded. She'd do the same for him.
"Are you two ready?" Dewdrop shouted at them. "Or are you going to be lovey-dovey for a bit longer?" He glared at them, still not over wha
t they were about to do.
Tate waved to let him know they were coming.
She looked up at Ryu. "Are we good?"
She had to know.
He stared down at her long enough that she felt her heart sinking. His smile when it came was slow, filled with carnal knowledge. "Never better."
Relief had her smiling up at him.
He waited until she'd walked away before murmuring. "Especially since you just admitted you were mine, and mine alone."
Tate shot him an alarmed look, the dark promise in his voice telling her she might have given away too much, too soon. It was the sort of promise that said he now considered her his and nothing would stop him from staking his claim. He was already difficult enough under normal circumstances. She couldn't imagine how he'd be now there were no barriers between them.
There was none of the pain or uncertainty in his gaze that had been there before. It was like he'd led her to the spot he wanted her to go and now she was trapped.
Tricky dragons and their traps. She hadn't even seen this one until it was too late.
"Oh, you sly dragon," she said in sudden understanding.
His grin turned playful as he winked at her. "Now that you're sticking around you might learn a thing or two."
She watched, open-mouthed, as he strode past her, stealing a caress along the way.
Tate remained fixed in place as she watched him join the others. Evan paused beside her, looking at Ryu in the same way she was. He shook his head. "When you play with dragons, you have to be prepared for head games. They're all capable of them. Ryu's better than most."
She shook her head wordlessly. "I didn't even see it coming."
"He does have a few centuries on you, despite your situation," Evan observed. He slapped her on the back, making his way over to where the others who were going on the journey waited.
Because of his relationship with the Ahnteela, he knew much more about her past than she would have given him on her own.
Dewdrop and the rest had each paired off with a Silva. The unwieldly wooden birds for multi-person use were different from the individual winged devices the Silva wore for personal use. For one, they were bigger, just a bit smaller than a carriage but without the advantage of being pulled by a beast of burden. She thought she might actually be more comfortable with all this if they had been attached to some strange creature’s back.
She wasn't that lucky.
Instead, the wings were made of a unique wooden reed found only in their lands. The material was lightweight enough to fly but sturdy enough to handle strong winds—or so Tate had been told.
The wingspan was nearly as wide as Ilith's. These were fixed, unlike the personal wings Tate had seen retract into the backpack like contraption.
"Fascinating," Vale said, lightly touching one of the wings. "How do they work?"
His eyes were alight with curiosity, and for a moment he resembled an enthusiastic child receiving a present. He even had a journal out as he wrote down observations. Tate caught a glimpse of a surprisingly accurate sketch of the craft.
"Trade secret," the Silva behind him grunted.
"You're with me," the doyen told Tate, distracting her from Vale’s disappointment.
She lifted her chin in acknowledgement, heading toward him. It had been decided Tate and Ryu would ride in the contraptions despite their ability to shift to dragon. The whole point of this exercise was to infiltrate the city without being seen. A dragon the size of a building might have made that difficult.
It was why they were leaving just a few hours before sunset. By the time they arrived the veil of night would have fallen, obscuring their descent.
Tate hesitated in front of the craft he'd indicated. She wouldn't exactly describe what she was feeling as fear. More like extreme trepidation. She knew these things worked. She'd seen the Silva use similar ones when they’d ambushed the Avertine—although those had been considerably smaller personal crafts not meant to carry more than one person.
These should work on the same concept. Tate hoped.
The reassurance didn’t quite dispel the disquiet in her stomach.
Except for the wooden reeds that made up the frame and a long, low-backed bench in the front, there would be nothing between Tate and the ground far, far below. Wheels had been attached at the front and back third of the winger.
In the back, there was a small stool and two footholds for the Silva navigator. Behind him was a small device she thought looked like the sun engine most Aurelian ships had. It resembled a giant fan, powered in a way Tate didn't understand. She was told not many knew the intricacies of those engines. Those who could operate them could name their price and were in high demand.
Other than that, there wasn't a lot to the contraption—definitely not enough to make Tate feel confident about this endeavor.
Suddenly she understood Dewdrop’s trepidation and wished she was making this journey in Ilith's form.
Ilith snorted in the back of her mind, still sulking over the fact she wasn't going to get to do any flying.
Tate ignored her and stepped forward, taking a seat on the bench. The doyen kept his words monosyllabic and interspersed with grunts as he showed her how to strap in, so she didn't accidental fall in the event they hit turbulence.
Once she was situated, the doyen headed to the rear of the winger and started pushing. Tate grabbed the sides in a death grip as they rolled toward the edge of the cliff. Suddenly, she understood the reason for those wheels, and she wished she didn't.
She'd thought they'd lift off from the ground like Ilith did, not head straight for a drop.
Her heart leapt higher in her throat as they got closer and closer to the edge. Every muscle in Tate's body was braced as they approached it. Even Ilith was alert, ready to shift if necessary. Not that it would help. By the time they became dragon they would have crashed into the rocks below.
Then they were over the edge, its safety a dim memory as they plunged. Tate snapped her teeth shut on a scream, her butt lifting partially off the seat.
The wings caught the air and suddenly they were gliding instead of falling.
Tate got caught up in the thrill of the moment as the land zoomed under her, wind pulling at her hair as they soared.
The closest she had to describing the feeling was standing at the bow of the Marauder as it cut through the ocean.
It felt like freedom. Utter and complete freedom. A feeling at once familiar and oh-so-alien.
"Ilith, is this how you feel when you fly?" Tate asked softly, her heart still thumping at the sheer exhilaration of defying gravity.
Yes.
“I don't know how you ever cede control when this is waiting for you," Tate said softly.
Ilith didn't respond, her thoughts surprisingly content.
Hours passed, the scenery unfolding under them slow and fast at the same time. As the afternoon deepened into evening, the sun dipped low on the horizon until it was a giant orange fireball. Shadows lengthened and stretched as night began to awaken and the temperatures dropped.
Chilly, Tate reached for the blanket she'd been handed before takeoff. Now, she saw why Lita and several other of the Silva had been dressed so warmly. It was cold this high up. With the sun down, it was only going to get worse.
Tate huddled in on herself, the bitter cold making her wish for Night's fur—or at the very least, warmer clothes. The thin fabric of hers, designed for the hot climate below, did little to protect her from the air’s bite.
Just when her hands ached and the cold had settled so deep into her bones she thought she might never get warm again, the doyen tapped her on the shoulder and pointed at the faint outline of several mountains.
"We're close. I'm going to take us down," he shouted into the wind.
Tate nodded as she shifted on the hard bench. Her butt had long since gone numb and her back protested being forced into one position for so long. She didn't know how the doyen could remain standing in one spot for
the journey.
Their altitude dipped, sending Tate's stomach into her throat. They flew along a flat plain, the mountains rapidly approaching. Mia had called the Harridan's home, the City of Stairs. A name taken from the thousands of stairs built into the face of a small mountain. The best way to approach was from its base, in the hopes the gliders wouldn't be as easily spotted against the ground. The sky was cloudy, one of the reasons they'd chosen the path they had.
With night softening and veiling its form, Tate only caught impressions of the city and the mountain which served as its foundation. It was difficult to pick out details beyond stone and buildings, their shapes appearing misshapen and ominous in the dark.
Gradually, they landed, the winger bumping across the ground as it threatened to tear apart. Or so it felt. The doyen handled the craft easily, unafraid as the wood frame buckled and groaned around them.
Only when they had safely ground to a halt, did Tate let her feet touch the ground. Her legs were shakier than she wanted to admit as she stood. As convenient as the winger was, she preferred any future landings be made as a dragon.
The Silva set down beside them one by one, Tate's friends disembarking.
Dewdrop staggered off his winger and sank to his knees on the ground. "I'm never doing that again."
Night was a dark, silent shape as he joined his friend. I don’t care if others of my kind have done this before. This bearcat does not belong in the air. It is an unnatural way to travel.
Ryu stepped off, looking as cool and collected as ever. If he'd had any uneasiness about flying, it didn't show. Of course, theoretically, he could assume his dragon shape at any time and wing away to safety. A luxury the rest of them, Tate included, didn't have.
"This is as far as we go," the doyen told her.
"Of course. Thank you for taking us this far," she said, sticking out her hand.
He hesitated, before taking it, his claws pricking her skin. "You're fools, all of you."
"I'd like to argue, but I can't," she said with a sigh. They were indeed fools.
His teeth flashed in the dark. "It's a good thing fools are the reason we have this world. If the first generation hadn't been so foolhardy and obstinate, we might still be the creators’ pets."
