Sev patted down his pockets, then spotted his abandoned dinner tray near the door. He found some crumbs and held them in his palm, and once the pigeon was ferreting around inside his hand, Sev reached for the scroll attached to its leg.
His fingers trembled so badly he could hardly remove it, causing the pigeon to flap its wings in reproach. Finally, he had the letter loose, dusting off the remaining crumbs on his hand and leaving the poor bird to peck in peace as he unfurled the message and read.
It was written by Kade! Sev would know his careful writing anywhere.
Sev, I am here. Can you squeeze out the southeast window?
Sev’s pulse fluttered wildly. Kade was here. Kade had come for him.
He looked up at the narrow strip of night sky visible out the southeast window. Were the Riders here as well, perched on the roof?
Hands still shaking, Sev put down the letter and walked to the window in question and peered outside. The tower wasn’t like the one at the abandoned Phoenix Rider outpost where Rolan had housed Veronyka. It was shorter and squatter, built on square foundations rather than circular ones. It was one of four, each on a corner of the square keep. Sev’s tower was on the southeast corner, and the southeast window looked down upon rolling lawns with several soldiers strolling the perimeter. They faced away from the tower, not toward it, and when Sev craned his neck to look up, he saw no sign of phoenixes, heard no ruffling feathers.
Even if they weren’t here yet, as soon as a Rider tried to fly in, the soldiers would see them.
Sev looked down again. Maybe they didn’t intend to fly.
Heavy shadows draped along the sloping ground, turning everything but the starry sky and patches of silvery grass into inky blackness. The walls that extended from the tower on either side were impossible to see, thanks to the tower’s square design.
Sev was in a blind spot.
He considered the vertical aperture, tilting his shoulders and contemplating his ribs and hip bones. He should be able to fit through, though what he’d do once he managed that was something else entirely.
Sev grabbed the note and flipped it over, patting his pockets for something to write with. He paused when his palm came against a smooth, hard thing in the breast pocket of Tristan’s tunic. He peeled back the leather overcoat to find a broken obsidian arrowhead. It looked a hundred years old—a keepsake, not a weapon—but it had an edge. With no better options, Sev scraped it across the pad of his thumb until a smear of bright red blood welled up.
“Sorry, Tristan,” he muttered, wetting the tip with his makeshift ink and scribbling a hasty “Yes” across the back of the letter.
He blew on the paper until it dried, then tied it to the pigeon’s leg. He waited until the nearest soldiers’ backs were turned before tossing it unceremoniously out into the sky. He watched until it disappeared into the night.
Then he paced, sucking his stinging thumb and trying to keep it together.
A reply came almost an hour later.
This time the fresh note had only two words.
Look down.
Sev ran across the tower and poked his head out. It was hard to see in the darkness, but a second later, he had to duck back as the end of a rope flew up from the shadows below.
Recovering from his surprise, Sev threw his hand out just in time, snatching the rope and pulling it inside. Understanding Kade’s plan, he turned on the spot, looking for a likely anchor, and found nothing but the door handle. It would have to do.
Sev tied it as tightly as possible, hoping that none of the soldiers below would notice the rope until morning—or until they checked in on him, whichever came first.
Tugging the rope to check the knot, Sev returned to the window and looked down. It seemed much higher all of a sudden, making his breath grow thin and his vision tunnel. He’d have to go feetfirst if he had any chance of keeping his balance, then lower himself down as quickly as he dared.
With a soft whistle, Sev summoned the pigeon to perch on his shoulder, then climbed onto the window ledge. It was located low on the wall, likely to make it easier for archers to pick off enemies below, and so Sev didn’t have to work too hard to get himself halfway through. He had to turn onto his side, but even that went okay until he reached his hips. This was the moment his body would shift, when his shoulders—one of which was very weak—would have to bear almost the entirety of his weight. He lowered as slowly as he could, legs dangling, until his elbows touched the wall on either side of the window. His shoulder was already complaining, and Sev knew once he lost that leverage and reached for the rope, it would be much, much worse.
He took a deep breath, extending one arm, then the other.
His shoulder’s complaints went from grumbles to all-out yells, and Sev had to clench his jaw to stop from crying out. He practically fell when his body cleared the lip of the window, the edge scraping against his stomach sharp enough to break skin if it weren’t for his Rider leathers. The pigeon squawked and took flight—Sev couldn’t blame it.
Despite the cold, he began to sweat, his legs kicking and flailing until he managed to get the rope between his feet and knees, taking some of the weight off his arms—but not nearly enough.
Kade is the better climber, he thought wildly, remembering their rooftop adventures in Ferro—though, of course, Kade wasn’t trapped in a tower. Also, his shoulders never would have fit through that window.
Sev gritted his teeth and continued to shimmy down the rope, his hands raw and aching and all his muscles straining. He tried to let himself slide, but the lack of control was terrifying, and bringing himself to a stop caused his hands to burn painfully against the rough rope.
Just when Sev thought things couldn’t get worse, a snapping sound echoed down to him, and he felt the rope twist and spin, as if the threads were slowly unraveling.
He looked up in confusion—then he remembered the sharp window ledge. All his weight bore down on the rope, pressing it against that jagged edge… slowly slicing his only lifeline right out from underneath him.
He was sliding now, sacrificing his hands to make his escape faster. He dared to look down, and spotted Kade staring up at him, his face shrouded in darkness.
Another snap—this time Sev felt more than heard it. Then, in the blink of an eye, all the tension left the rope, and he was falling.
His feet hit the ground first, the impact rattling Sev’s bones. Pain lanced from his ankles through his knees and then coalesced like a ball of agony in his back, where he wound up sprawled on the packed earth.
Kade was on him in an instant, a hand over his mouth to muffle his groans, while the other untangled Sev’s hands from the rope. Kade bent his face over Sev’s, likely looking for some indication of how badly he was hurt. It took Sev a moment for his mind to catch up with his body; his breath was coming ragged against Kade’s palm, but once he blinked away the shock and the pain, he realized he hadn’t fallen all that far—maybe a few feet. It was the surprise of the landing that hadn’t allowed him to brace himself that did the worst damage, but as his heartbeat slowed and the pain receded, Sev bent his legs and rolled his ankles.
He was okay.
He nodded at Kade, who withdrew his hand. Kade’s hair had grown out, a dark forelock dangling over his eyes, and he grinned as he stared down at Sev. Then he planted a quick kiss on Sev’s lips before reaching for his hands and hauling him upright.
His hands. Sev pulled them back on instinct, and Kade released him with a grimace of apology. Sev looked down at them—they were bleeding across the soft skin of his palms and fingers, but he shook them out and focused.
They were a good fifty feet behind the circuit the perimeter soldiers were walking around the fortress, at the top of the sloping hill that led up to the tower, hidden in darkness. That was all well and good for right now, but they’d have to leave their relative safety at some point, which meant striding out into the moonlight and exposing themselves.
As Sev fretted about their escape, K
ade hastily coiled the fallen rope and threw it over his shoulder. He stared thoughtfully at the frayed edge, cocking a curious look at Sev.
Sev shrugged easily, pretending it had happened as part of a genius scheme to hide their tracks from any soldiers patrolling the grounds and not a happy accident that could have killed him.
Kade smiled and took Sev’s wrist, avoiding his damaged hands as he moved to the edge of the tower’s shadow. They stood there for a few silent heartbeats—long enough for Sev to wonder why they were waiting in the first place—when a sudden racket of swishing leaves and snapping twigs burst from between the trees to the south.
A shout went up, and footsteps heralded the arrival of two of the perimeter guards, who moved in the direction of the noise. With attention focused in the other direction, Kade pulled him out of the safety of the shadows and into the moonlight. Sev held his breath, but it was a straight shot from the sloping lawns and into the forest. He could hardly see, but Kade tugged him along with purpose, and then Sev noticed the owl several trees ahead of them, flitting from branch to branch and clearly leading the way.
After long, silent moments in which Sev didn’t dare speak, the ground started to slope away, and he thought he could hear running water. Kade slowed their pace now, as they were forced to climb steep ditches or scurry over jagged rocks. Still, he held Sev’s wrist, and still, they didn’t speak. The night felt too quiet, the steady pant of their breaths and the crunch of leaves beneath their feet the only sound. The distant shouts of the soldiers had faded into almost nothing, and Sev trusted Kade to lead the way.
They’d just reached a small clearing when a shadow descended from above. Sev fell back, trying to drag Kade with him, but Kade resisted his pull. A second later he realized why. The shadow was a phoenix.
Kade released Sev at last and walked toward the creature, who bowed its head.
Something thunked into place inside Sev’s mind. This wasn’t just a phoenix.… This was Kade’s phoenix. This was the egg Sev had given him.
“Sev,” Kade said, resting a hand on the phoenix’s neck and turning to face him. “This is my bondmate, Jinx.”
He wore a huge smile—Sev could see it in the moonlight—the widest smile Sev had ever seen him wear, pride radiating from him. For some reason, the sight made Sev feel sick.
This was everything he had orchestrated, all he could have wanted for Kade.
And yet… and yet.
In his mind, Kade and Jinx only happened if Kade and Sev didn’t. It was supposed to be Kade’s distant future, his insurance policy should all else fail. It wasn’t supposed to be Kade’s now.
The Phoenix Riders were in the middle of a war. Sev supposed he and Kade had been in the thick of things too, but now there would be no safety for him. No avoiding the battlefield.
And no matter how often Sev had thought that Kade would be a wonderful Phoenix Rider, that he’d fit perfectly among them, Sev had never held any delusions that he could do the same. His only value had been as a spy, as a soldier. He had made strides, had learned how to be useful and how to do what he could, when he could—but Sev was no proper animage, no fit Rider for a phoenix. How could such a creature ever choose an animage as weak as Sev?
He didn’t belong with the Phoenix Riders, which meant he didn’t belong with Kade.
And that was a tough realization to swallow.
The phoenix—who was female, with gorgeous purple accents and a long, elegant neck—leaned forward to peer around Kade, head tilted as she blinked at Sev with bright-eyed curiosity. Kade smiled indulgently at being shunted aside by his bondmate in favor of this new person she wanted to inspect, and all Sev needed to do was extend his hand and he could stroke her feathers and smooth, gleaming beak.
A tendril of magic brushed against his mind—her magic, reaching for him, inviting him in without fear or hesitation.
Sev’s breaths came fast and shallow. She was beautiful and majestic and everything Kade deserved. Everything he didn’t.
Doubt reared up, ugly and desperate, and he turned away sharply, the move abrupt enough that Jinx croaked and straightened. Her magic receded.
“You came alone?” he asked, pretending to look around the clearing.
When Sev chanced a look back at Kade, he was frowning. “Not alone,” he answered, patting his phoenix’s feathers again—this time to soothe rather than to greet.
Jinx continued to study Sev, but there was a wariness to her now that wasn’t there before. Of course there was—she had sought him out, sensing his magic, and he had disappointed her.
Sev ducked his head, refusing to meet her gaze. Kade stepped in front of her, blocking Sev from view, and he sensed they were having a silent conversation. There was a rustle of wings, and then she soared off.
“Sev,” Kade began, once the phoenix was gone, but Sev hastened to speak over him.
“You shouldn’t have risked it,” he said. If he made the conversation about this, about something reasonable, he could avoid saying something he’d regret. “I’m not worth that.”
Kade closed the distance between them. “You’re worth everything.”
“Not…,” Sev began, swallowing down the choking, miserable feeling inside him. “Not your position with the Riders. I’m sure you’re needed elsewhere.”
“I’m needed here. I didn’t sneak off. She—Veronyka—she told me to come for you. Did you think they were just going to leave you here after everything you’ve done for them?”
A bubble of happiness swelled inside Sev. He quickly stamped it out, afraid to get his hopes up. “But now that my cover is blown… I won’t be able to do much else.”
Kade gave him a funny look. “So what? I’d be here regardless. You’re one of us. It doesn’t matter if you never do another useful thing.”
Sev doubted that very much, but he didn’t say so. Kade would never understand. He’d always been useful—as a talented animage, as an ally to Trix, and now as a Phoenix Rider.
Kade continued to stare at him, then sighed. “Come on,” he said, walking around Sev and toward a patch of particularly dark night—a cave mouth. Kade stooped to move aside some supplies—clearly, he’d found this place before, probably during the daylight. The opening was concealed by the heavy boughs of some ancient tree. The soldiers would have a hard time finding them unless they already knew this place was here.
“Don’t worry,” Kade said, watching as Sev looked around the low, cramped space. “Jinx will keep an eye out.”
Sev nodded.
“Will you come here?” Kade asked, wariness in his voice. Sev hated it, but he didn’t know how to settle back into their usual comfort. He didn’t know how to forget this insurmountable barrier between them. Kade the Phoenix Rider. Sev the once-spy. Sev the once-soldier. Sev the no one.
Kade settled onto the ground with a pack next to him, and as Sev approached, the pungent scent of healing herbs hit his nose. He took a deep breath and slumped down next to Kade. Every muscle in his body hurt.
“Your hands,” Kade said matter-of-factly, and Sev let him wipe away the dirt and grime, then rub in a tingling ointment. Then he wrapped clean linen across Sev’s palms.
“Every day I thought of you,” Kade blurted. His head was still bowed over Sev’s hands, though his work was done. “Veronyka… she was trying to reach Tristan. To send him messages somehow. I asked her to send word to you as well. Did it work?”
“No,” Sev said quietly, very much liking the idea of Kade thinking about him every day. He wished he could have received the messages, though. He thought of the way Veronyka had spoken into his mind in the tower in Ferro, the way he’d managed to convey to her that Tristan wasn’t in the wagon on his way to the stronghold. It was somehow both impossible and entirely believable.
“Oh,” Kade said. He sounded at a loss, and Sev didn’t blame him. He gripped Kade’s hands with his own stiff, bandaged ones, making Kade look up again.
“I thought of you every day too. When I saw Veronyka
fly past the convoy… Everything I’d been doing was to get myself back to you. I thought I’d lost my chance to make good on my promise.”
Kade’s lips twisted into a smile. “I don’t think we’re at the end yet, but we’re together.”
Together. Even that word felt ruined for Sev, somehow. It was no longer just the two of them.
“Let’s get some rest,” Kade said, putting away the healing supplies and nodding toward the far side of the cave, where two bedrolls were already laid out. Side by side.
“Right,” Sev said. He’d been exhausted a mere moment ago, but now adrenaline shot like lightning through his veins.
“I didn’t think we should risk a fire,” he explained, and Sev understood. The night was cold and damp, the short autumn season already giving way to the long, wet, rainy winter.
And without a fire… they’d need each other’s body heat.
Sev lay stiffly on the bedroll nearest him, facing into the cave. Kade unearthed a blanket from his packs and settled down next to him. Sev couldn’t see him, but he sensed every shift and movement and felt the blanket settle over him as Kade draped it along their legs.
Afterward, Kade’s hand hovered in the air, visible in Sev’s peripheral vision. Then it dropped, gently, onto Sev’s hip. Sev’s lungs froze, his entire body going rigid. They stayed like that for one breath, then two, but before Sev could think of what to do, a sigh escaped Kade’s lips, his warm breath whispering through Sev’s hair.
Kade’s hand skimmed lower, along Sev’s abdomen—Sev was quite certain he hadn’t breathed in minutes—and then settled, splayed, on his stomach. Kade pulled, dragging Sev backward across the small distance that separated them until Sev was pressed flush against him—back against chest, legs against thighs. Even against his neck, he felt the brush of Kade’s forehead, nose… mouth.
Sev squirmed, leaning back into the touch—suddenly completely wide-awake. Kade chuckled; it rumbled against Sev’s back.
“Sleep,” he murmured, the words hot against Sev’s skin. “You need it—we both do.”
Wings of Shadow Page 19
