“There’s no way to prevent that, now.”
The last winding of bandage fell from his chest and I felt myself gasp. Half the feather was gone, yes, and my knife had pierced the other half, but the skin where the feather had been cut out had turned a mottled red and black – inflamed and swelling around the wound and seeping badly. Spider-leg streaks of red shot out from it across his chest and up his neck. My “help” had been no help at all.
“What happens if the feather is completely cut out?” Ivo asked.
Osprey shook his head. “I think she thinks it will break my bonds.”
“And will it?” His words were tense.
“I think it might just break me.”
The vision faded and I cursed. I wanted to see more. I needed to know more. The fool holding my hand had it in an iron grip now.
“You are her.” There was a glitter in his eye that told me I was in danger. “You’re a wanted woman. The price on your head is high enough to –”
I didn’t let him finish the sentence. I sprang to my feet, ignoring the stabbing agony in my torso. He expected me to pull away, so he yanked me towards him, around the table. Which suited me perfectly. I spun in toward him, snatching my short sword from where it was hidden under my cloak. Without breaking his grip, I let him pull me close and ended my spin with the edge of the sword under his jaw, tip nicking his sensitive throat.
“Enough to make you think twice about being a fool?” I asked.
He swallowed and the bobbing of his throat brought his flesh down enough to nick it on the blade.
“Release your grip,” I said calmly.
He let go of my hand.
“And be on your way.” I clenched my jaw hard after I spoke. I didn’t want to let him go. I was so angry these days – so furious at a whole world that wanted to take advantage of me – that all I wanted to do was jam that knife up into his throat and end the threat right there. I hated the thought of this strange man waiting in the shadows. I hated the thought of him pouncing the moment I turned my back.
He jammed a parchment against me, his hands shaking.
“I won’t be the only one,” he said, looking around the inn. “Did you hear me? There’s a price on her head.”
It was only then that I remembered that the glow of the dancing fire and the smell of beef stew and fresh bread weren’t the only things in the inn. The dozens of people filling the common room were there, too, and they were all standing, staring at the two of us.
“And she has a weapon!” he spat. “She violates the orders Le Majest made to keep our community safe.”
The crowd watching us remained owlishly silent.
“But it’s not very safe, is it?” I said quietly. “Outside the city gates the Forbidding slips toward this city, bent on swallowing you whole. And here in this inn, I am bent on your destruction now that you’ve told me you’re my enemy. So, you tell me. Is it safe?”
“No,” he said, the sword tip nicking his throat again. He flinched at the bite.
“Maybe you’d like to leave while you can.”
“Yes.”
I withdrew the sword just long enough to watch him flee the inn. Around me, everyone remained still as his footsteps echoed out the door. I leaned down and picked up the parchment he’d dropped.
It said:
Empire of War and Wings Imperial Order
Detain Alive and Unharmed
Female, seventeen years, bushy dark hair, brown eyes, Far Reach accent, traveling with weapon, violent in nature. Watch for bees.
Reward – Fifteen golden crowns.
Well, wasn’t that nice? There was a reward on my head. And I doubted that those coming to collect it would remember the part about detaining me unharmed. Le Majest would end up with a dead bride for his troubles – which would suit me better than being a living bride. Angry, I threw the parchment on the table and drove the place setting knife through it.
“Did someone else want to collect?” I asked the room, chin lifted high.
There was silence, and then someone laughed. I spun, eyes narrowed, to see the innkeeper grinning nastily.
“This inn belongs to the Single Wing,” he said. “We don’t bow to Emperors or their get.”
At that, a roar of agreement rose around me, surprising me, and then one man stepped out from the crowd. He had a lantern jaw and fiery eyes.
“Three of you traveled here together. And from what I see, you’re solidly with us. You should get some rest and get ready. Tomorrow, we fight.”
“Fight what?” I asked, surprised, as I sheathed my weapon.
He looked proud as he spoke, “We fight for our freedom. Tomorrow, at dawn.”
“But the rest of the continent isn’t organized,” I objected. This was a bad idea.
He shook his head. “And they never will be. The Forbidding is at our doorstep and the pigeons flew today telling us Le Majest sails here and will arrive the day after tomorrow. If we don’t fight now, our chance will be lost. If you need more weapons, talk to Gill at the stable door. We riot at dawn.”
A chill swept over me, but I nodded grimly, not sure what else to do. I could feel their eyes on me, feel them watching every move. One slip, and I’d be in worse trouble than any imperial order could put me, worse trouble than any single man in an inn common room, worse trouble than I could make for myself – maybe.
So, carefully, I smiled, pulled the knife from the warrant, and made the sign of the bird to them with it. There was another cheer and I drank down the rest of my drink as they returned to their conversations.
Carefully, I finished my stew, snatched up the paper, and concentrated on keeping my manner casual as I strode from the common room and up the stairs. I needed Retger. And we needed to get out of here. Now. Before we were dragged into a war in the streets we hadn’t asked for and couldn’t win.
Fear lit my every step, seeming to spike as I knocked on Retger’s door. There was no answer. I slid into my room and saw Zayana was still asleep. No help there. Frustrated, I sat down outside Retger’s door and leaned back. I’d just have to wait for him here.
I reached into my pocket and was surprised to find something there. Wait. Osprey had shoved something in my pocket, hadn’t he? Why would he have done that?
I pulled it out, inspecting it in the lantern light of the hallway. It was a standard-sized silver coin, though the stamping was different than I was used to. Usually, all coins bore the Swan on one side and the face of one of Les Majest on the other – the Emperor, or the crown prince. This one had the crown prince’s profile on one side. Which was usual, though now that profile made me shudder, bringing back memories of swaying snakes and threats of my tongue being cut out. The other side was the surprising one. It was stamped with two heads facing opposite directions. Two identical faces, looking out from the center. Where their heads met at the back, someone had merged them together, topping both with a spiky crown and wreathing the whole coin in stylized wings.
The two brothers. I knew the story.
Generations ago, two brothers had inherited the kingdom when their father – the Emperor – died. They were born twins, and the midwife – in a way that added drama to the legend – had mistakenly forgotten to record which was born first, and so none had known which was the heir. They accepted the crown together. Two rulers. One kingdom. Coins had been stamped and feasts had been held and then – predictably – greed and power had overwhelmed them, and they had carved up the Winged Empire between them and gone to war. The war had lasted three years, and it only ended with one man’s head on a pike.
Since then, when Le Majest inherited the crown, he had his siblings executed. “Refining the blood” was what they called it.
This coin was some kind of commemoration of that time. Though why anyone wanted to remember it, was a mystery to me. I spun it round and round, staring at the two faces. Why had Osprey given me this coin? A silver was valuable. It could keep me fed in this inn for a week. And yet, I hardly thought
he’d been worried about my room and board when he’d jammed it into my pocket as we flew through the air. Was it a message of some kind? And if it was, what could it possibly mean?
I put the coin back in my pocket and tried to think, but I was worn from our journey. My thoughts blurred as the minutes ticked by and eventually, exhaustion stole me away and I fell into a fitful sleep, leaning against the door.
Elsewhere in the Winged Empire...
Wing Mirala watched her bird as it made wide circles over the small patrol ship. When her gull wheeled like that, screaming in the sky in pleasure, she wished she could fly, too. Even the searing joy of riding the waves from peak to peak on the fast skimmer was nothing compared to the heights of the spirit bird. The way it soared and dipped, skimming over the spray, was elation come alive. But while the gull could lend Mirala her eyes, she was not large enough to be ridden as some manifestations were.
Mirala still daydreamed about riding her, though. Rushing through the clouds in a burst of wings and feathers and searing joy. She closed her eyes over the daydream, letting it settle into her heart for a moment and warm her spirit as it always did.
So close to Kestrel City, there was nothing of concern here. The Winged Empire had dominated these waters for four generations without a single attack from without or rebellion from within. Patrol duty had become nothing but a routine pleasure she could soak in. The sea. The sun. The wind. Bliss.
Her gull screamed and her eyes popped open.
She let them unfocus so that she could see with the gull’s eyes.
What in the ...
She blinked twice, hardly believing what her manifestation was showing her from its place high up in the sky.
A fleet. A fleet bigger than anything Mirala had ever seen – bigger than the Fleet of the Garbocco Islands, bigger than the Terns stationed in all their glory in the harbors of Kestrel City.
Her breath caught in her throat. She needed to report them and get the small patrol ship out of the way before that mass of ships swept through these seas. But the Tern Captain would want to know who had sent a fleet against the Winged Empire. He’d want more information than she had right now.
She needed to get her gull closer to see.
Her eyes tightened in concentration and her gull swooped toward the ships. She channeled courage into the bird. There was no sign of any other spirit birds over these new ships, just Kiralala and her pinkish-white spirit wings like the faint glow of disappearing dawn. No reason to fear. Kiralala was quick and could dodge any arrow launched from a ship. She would be safe up here scouting.
Mirala studied the ships, looking for a flag or a sign – any way to tell where they had come from. They were built strangely as if they had been grown from twisting vines rather than constructed of wood. Sails that rippled silver in the light seemed almost like fish skin – patterned and flashing in the sun.
She shook her head, confused, and then the captain was there.
“Wing Mirala? Does your bird see something?”
She hesitated, not sure how to report this as her bird swept in close for a better look.
“Wing Mirala?”
No flags. No markings. So strange.
Her bird swept in closer, searching, searching.
Men and women in masks and foreign clothing scrambled across the deck of the nearest ship and then one of them raised her hands.
A snake as thick as Mirala’s torso shot from her hands into the air, snatching Kiralala from the embrace of the wind and dragging her down to the ship.
Mirala couldn’t stop the scream that bubbled from her throat any more than she could stop the snake as it wrapped around her spirit bird.
“Wing Mirala, what is happening? Where is your bird?” The captain sounded frantic. He should be frantic.
She opened her mouth to warn him and then the snake squeezed around her bird, so tight, so chokingly tight.
Her eyes went wide as her life fled with her bird’s.
BOOK TWO: BATTLE FOR THE HEART
We keep what we catch.
Stories and souls.
Dreams and Sight.
Come in and Fetch.
Hearts and tales.
Hopes so bright.
Open with Blood,
Pay our price.
Bind your eyes.
Lose what you Loved,
Empty and cold.
It all grows old.
Lay bare your Desire,
Great or small,
Gain it twice.
Burn on our Pyre
Bright and hot,
Soul made naught.
- Ancient Poem from before the Founding
Chapter Thirteen
I awoke to noise below and pounding footsteps. I was still blinking myself awake when Retger turned the corner at a sprint, skidding across the rough-hewn boards of the inn floor.
“We have to hurry!”
“Where were you?” I asked but he shook his head. He had a fresh cut in his scalp, and it was bleeding. I struggled to my feet, catching his arm as he fumbled for his key. “Retger! Tell me what happened.”
He flung open his door and snatched up his pack. “I didn’t have time to get your new clothes or anything. I found my friend in the city and he told me the old records are in the Oriole Monastery in the west end of town. They have a library in the monastery but it’s a bit of a trick to get in. Then, he took me to a group of the Single Wing and there were debates that led to arguments that led to violence.”
His breath came out in frustrated huffs.
“They want to attack today,” I agreed. “They plan to riot.”
“Plan to?” he scoffed. “They already are! And your description is all over the city. You’re wanted by Le Majest. Alive.”
I nodded. “Which means we need to hurry.”
“Find Zayana. We’ll leave the horses here. The streets are too packed for horses right now.”
I paused in the entranceway. “Will they be safe?”
“Find her!” His eyes were wild, more fearful than I’d ever seen them. I didn’t ask anything else. I ran to the next door and opened it in a burst to find Zayana cross-legged on her bed, Flame hovering over her. She paused mid-song, her eyebrow raised.
“Zayana,” I gasped, “we have to go. Now. Retger knows where. And there’s trouble.”
“There’s always trouble where you are, Aella. It’s those bees. They aren’t happy unless they’re stirred up.”
There was no point arguing. She wasn’t wrong. Since the moment I’d heard a buzz in my head, my life had been a maelstrom of trouble.
I ran out the door and nearly collided with Retger.
“Ready? Let’s go.”
He didn’t wait for us to respond. He hustled down the hall in the other direction from the stairs, took a sharp turn, and opened another door. He was all business, his eyes flashing and his actions tight and economical.
A gust of fresh air hit me in the face and I realized this was an outside staircase leading down to the ground. Retger was already out the door, his feet flying down the steps. I followed, but not as quickly. I used this chance of looking from so high up to scan the city. What I saw shocked me. Spirals of smoke rose up into the sky, lit with spiky red flames from multiple places in the city. The roar of voices – their words indistinguishable – met my ears and every glimpse of roads showed bodies huddled together, hands held high. I couldn’t see faces from here – but I could still feel the energy of the crowd like it was a wind in my face. It roared over me, sweeping away my confidence in its frustration and hatred. It was like my own emotions had been amplified and mirrored in these crowds and looking at it dead in the face, filled me with fear – fear for what they might do and fear for what I might do. Suddenly, I understood Retger’s panicked eyes and speeding footsteps. I hurried until my own feet felt like they might take flight.
“Retger! Which way is it to the monastery?”
“It’s west. In the far west district of the city
near the Oriole Fountain.”
I had no idea where the fountain was, but it would be a landmark to watch for.
He grabbed me by the arm – Zayana, too – and leaned in close. “Stay together. Stay near buildings if you can so the crowds don’t sweep you away. If we get split up, we’ll meet back here at the inn, okay? It should be safe.” He glanced at it. “Maybe you should stay here anyway, Zay.”
Since when had he given Zayana a nickname?
“I want to come with you,” she said determinedly.
He nodded, adjusting his brown curls so that his headband held them back better. “No manifestations. They draw eyes. Especially since the order for your detainment mentions bees, Aella.” He nodded his head as if trying to convince himself of something. “Stick with me and it will be okay.”
He flashed us a confident grin that I didn’t believe for a second and then we hurried from the alley where the stairs exited and out into the main street.
I was nearly knocked over the moment we stepped on the street. Sound hit us hard – a babble of chanting voices and a clash of metal from up the street. I looked toward the clash and caught a glimpse of blue jackets embroidered in white – Imperial Claws. A rock hurtled through the air toward them but before I could see it land, Retger was pulling me in the other direction down the packed street against the tide of bodies. Fury filled every face and in the hands of most, ordinary tools were brandished like weapons. Shovels and cleavers, pitchforks, and meat hooks. I felt a chill run down my spine at the look of the makeshift weapons – somehow more ominous than simple swords and hunting knives would be. It reminded me too much of the day I’d Hatched and what happened afterward.
“Eyes to yourself!” Retger hissed as he pulled us farther with him. The press of the crowd was getting stronger. They shoved and pushed as they tried to enter the fray. It was quieter as we moved away from the open conflict, but the quiet here was a quiet of anticipation – the quiet of the wolf before it leaps, of the pit before you fall into it. It stole my breath away with the undercurrent of rage and violence just waiting to spring out and attack.
Wing Magic Page 9
