“Well, thank you. Thank you all,” Misti said. They had saved Dylori and guarded her while she healed, and the words would never be enough. She reached out and grasped Arias and Orenda’s hands in turn, and then did the same with Roorik.
Roorik searched the dark woods. “Now that you’re up, could we leave? I don’t want to spend the night here if I don’t have to. I’m a danger to you in here, remember? The banished folk want me dead.”
“I don’t want to spend any more time in here either.” Leaning on Dylori, Misti pushed herself to her feet.
The others rose, gathering their packs and weapons. At the sight of Orenda’s Shey sword Misti swallowed a little. They had lost Arias’ after all. But then Arias hefted her bow and gave her a thumbs-up, surprising Misti with her cheery demeanor. She always tries to remain positive, even in the darkest of times. Misti and Dylori didn’t have anything to gather. The banished ones had taken their packs. Misti led the way. Her body ached. Each step seemed to shake more pain in her bones, making her wince, but Zora curled up on her shoulders and sent energy into her, a little at a time, so she could walk.
They made their way through the Ravenlock Woods in silence, each in their own thoughts. After a little while, a soft conversation started but Misti ignored it. It was a mark of their friendship that none of them tried to talk to her on the way back to Rok, each of them knowing she needed the quiet. She wanted to sleep again. Wanted to take a long bath and scrub this night off her, and then fall asleep to escape the memory of Char’s death. She thought she could keep up with the others, but her feet gave out from under her. Dylori caught her just in time.
After that, they all rode on Dis, with Zora flying overhead, keeping watch. It was a testament to his strength that he could run even with five people on him, and fast. They’d reach Rok by daybreak. Arias and Orenda sat in front keeping watch, Misti and Dylori in the middle, and Roorik was in the back, holding the daygem. Dylori held Misti upright, her arms wrapped around her middle and her face tucked into Misti’s shoulder. Keeping watch, but only over her. Misti watched the sky above her, gazing past the gray branches that surrounded her. She focused on Zora flying above them, shimmering brightly against the darkened sky. She was the only family Misti trusted now, and Misti let everything else fade away but her.
They reached Rok well before the sun rose. The steady noise of the city and the bright lights shimmering around them kept Misti awake and alert. Dis slowed his pace as he walked the wide streets, making sure not to knock into carts or people selling their wares. The scent of vegetable soup wafted from an open shop—laroti soup, if Misti read the sourness correctly. Even with daybreak looming, folk milled about. Orenda slipped smoothly down from Dis’ back, shaking her legs, and stretching a bit. Arias landed on her feet, and Roorik followed close behind, stumbling and catching himself on the edge of a nearby cart.
Arias turned to Misti and Dylori. “Where are we going now?”
“We have to tell people about Ponuriah and the sun goddess worshippers. That’s what my sister…” Misti’s throat tightened, but she coughed it away. “That’s what Char wanted. We should tell the Moon Knights and Gilmoer.” Was it only a few nights ago that I last spoke to Gilmoer? It feels like a lifetime.
Roorik grinned up at Misti. “Gilmoer? I can set up a meeting immediately.”
“And I can send a letter to the Moon Knights at Amiin, or help you write one and then send it,” Dylori said from behind her, squeezing her waist.
Misti turned back to look into the lovely dark eyes behind her. “I’ll write it with your help. But first let’s talk to Gilmoer.”
Roorik led the way, greeting the passersby as he did, and Dis followed close behind. It seemed Dis had taken a liking to Roorik’s effervescent attitude—that, or he enjoyed the crumbs that kept falling from Roorik’s pack. Zora flew overhead, keeping guard even now. After a while, Misti and Dylori got down from Dis’ back, walking hand in hand. Misti tightened her grasp on Dylori’s fingers, pulled them up to her lips, and kissed her knuckles. A tiny spark passed through them, and despite everything, Misti smiled. I hope we do this more…under better circumstances. Dylori grinned. Before they reached the Praxis archway, Arias tugged on Misti’s shirt.
“Listen, I need to do some damage control.” Arias titled her head to Orenda. Her older sister was scuffing the ground with her boot, her fingers laced behind her back. Bored, it seemed or annoyed. Misti couldn’t quite tell. Arias leaned close to them and whispered, “Ren is a bit more miffed than she let on about us going into the Ravenlock Woods. Suffice it to say it wasn’t on her agenda.”
Misti gathered Arias into a hug. “Thank you for everything. We’ll probably stay at the same inn as before.”
“I’ll be there at first night.” Arias pulled back and put a gentle hand on Misti’s cheek in an almost motherly gesture. Her pale green eyes shimmered with concern. “I’m so sorry about your sister. About your brother. About your parents. I’m just…so sorry. And if you ever need anything or just need to talk, I’ll be around.”
Misti felt a rush of appreciation burn through her. “If I ever need a reality check?”
“Or an escape,” Arias replied with a wink. “Orenda knows where they keep the good spirits in this city.”
Misti chuckled as Arias left, tugging Orenda behind her. Orenda gave them one last nod before disappearing into the crowd. Misti reached out and grabbed Dylori’s hand again before pulling her toward the archway. It felt good to be doing something, to have a mission, because Misti knew the moment she closed her eyes the entirety of what had happened would hit her again.
The conversation with Gilmoer took a little while. Misti told him everything that had happened in the woods and he seemed pleased to have the information but didn’t say much else. He did mention that she should tell a scribe, which she considered a good idea, and suggested she join Praxis, which she dismissed. Too much had happened for her to consider such a thought. Right now, all she needed was a quiet job and some downtime to think, not the strict rules of Praxis nor the long daylight hours spent in study. Roorik had to stay behind to chat with Gilmoer, so they said their goodbyes to him as they left.
“He’s an odd one,” Dylori muttered as the door to Gilmoer’s office closed behind them.
“Yeah, but he did save your life. Twice,” Misti said. It was only after the doors closed that she remembered she wanted to ask him why he was an ex-banished one. So curious, in fact, that she turned around and knocked.
Roorik answered, swinging the door open again. His golden eyes glittered.
“I wondered why you’re an ex-banished one and—” she started, but Roorik interrupted her.
“What I did while I was one?” he asked with a sweeping bow.
He must get asked the question quite a bit. Misti grinned. “Yes, surely it wasn’t simply the lure of fine clothing that set you back on the right path.”
“Many ask, but most believe the dyeing excuse. I could tell straight away you two saw right through it.” Roorik winked. “Honestly, it’s a story worth telling over a long drink, and you look too tired for that. Perhaps later we can reconnect once again. I can tell you that the banished ones I was with were not worshippers.”
Relief spread through Misti. She had a hard enough time thinking of Roorik as an ex-banished one. If he’d been an ex-worshipper, she didn’t know what she would’ve done. Misti nodded. “I look forward to that night. May the moon always be over your head.”
“And yours as well.” He closed the door once more.
The sky had brightened to a clear blue when they met up with Dis and Zora to head back to the Howling Rain Inn. Dis remained outside, like last time, curled up against the building, but Zora flew in with them. Dylori requested paper, two quills, and ink from the barkeep, and they headed upstairs, somehow managing to get the same room as before. The familiarity comforted Misti.
As soon as they reached the room, she sat at the desk and started writing. She wanted to get this do
ne, right now, with everything fresh in her mind. Dylori sat on the bed next to her and commented now and then, reminding her of some small detail she had missed, but it was her constant positive presence in the room that felt more important, just like Zora.
Zora watched the door and the quill, alternating between guard duty and fun. Eventually she launched herself at the quill, nipping at the black feathers and slashing at it with her claws. Misti pulled Zora into her lap. Misti told the Moon Knights everything, including the worshipper’s hideout in Ravenlock Woods, Char standing as if alive, and Zarious’ betrayal. Her narrative spanned three pages front and back, but before she could roll it up, Dylori put her hand out to stop.
“I wanted to add something at the bottom.” With quick fingers, Dylori dipped the quill into the pot of ink and wrote out her resignation from the Moon Knights. That was all it took. A few moments, and her dream of being an Aramet’zil in the Moon Knights was over. She signed the bottom and pressed her mark into it, the near-full moon on her sword, then rolled up the paper and sealed it with candle wax. Finally, she lifted her dark gaze to Misti, who sat stunned.
“I knew you were thinking about leaving,” Misti muttered. “But I didn’t know you wanted to do it so soon. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Dylori replied, her voice firm. “I had wanted to leave them before, but now I have to. With what we found out about Zarious, I just can’t be in that organization any longer.”
“What will you do?” What will I do?
“Plant some piae root and live in a cottage,” Dylori replied with a shrug. Misti punched her on the arm. “Or maybe join a traveling group. Or be part of the city’s guard. There are plenty of options.”
“True. For now, though, let’s send this letter.”
Zora headbutted Misti’s hands and presented her back. Misti knew Zora wanted to take the letter to the Moon Knights, but the mere idea of watching her fly away made Misti’s lip tremble. She needed her companion here, needed that piece of home here with her.
Shaking her head, she scratched Zora behind the ears. “I’d like you to stay with me, Zora. Another vulnix can take the letter.”
Zora curled back up in her lap, accepting Misti’s request. Dylori put the sealed letter on the table and brushed the hair out of Misti’s eyes, but Misti hardly felt her fingers against her skin. Now that the task was done, the weight of what had happened grew heavy on her shoulders. The deep pit in her stomach yawed wide again. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she kept her gaze on the table as Dylori moved throughout the room. A metal bowl of clear water and a sponge came into Misti’s view, blocking the curved design of the darkwood desk.
She knew she should wash herself off. Ash covered every inch of her, and blood. But when she reached for the basin, Dylori stilled her hand.
“Let me?” she asked, and Misti nodded.
Lifting her chin, Dylori slowly began washing the ash off of Misti’s skin, starting with her face and neck then moving along her arms and fingers. She slowly untied Misti’s tunic and let the fabric tumble over Zora, who yipped and moved to the top again. Misti chuckled and stroked her companion animal.
The cool water on her skin felt good, and so did Dylori’s gentle touch as she smoothed the sponge over Misti’s shoulders and back, careful not to drip any on her underclothes. It was a gentle but intimate moment. One of their first, aside from kissing, and Misti found she was glad to have it.
Dylori tugged off Misti’s boots, guiding her feet into the bowl and washing them. Misti shivered a little at the cold water between her toes. After Dylori was finished, she led Misti to the bed and opened the covers for her. Misti shimmied out of her pants, and slipped under the covers in only her underthings.
Dylori took a few moments to empty the dirty water and fill the bowl, and then washed herself clean. Misti watched from under her warm nest of covers. Her heart picked up speed when Dylori slipped out of her tunic and pants, but she left her undergarments on, which Misti was grateful of. She wanted the intimacy and comfort, but she wanted to see where the relationship was going first, how deep it would get, how solid. Dylori even splashed some water on Zora, who yipped in protest, but then headbutted her in thanks. Dylori emptied the bowl before moving next to the bed.
“Do you mind if I sleep next to you like this?” she asked, shyly, as if they hadn’t been sleeping next to one another for cycles.
It dawned on Misti that they hadn’t slept together. One of them had always been awake, on watch, or on guard. This was the first time neither of them had to keep watch. She cursed the heat rising on her cheeks but lifted the covers. “Please.”
Dylori slid into the bed. After a questioning look, she wrapped one arm around Misti’s shoulders and pulled her tight. It wasn’t like before, when Dylori had been washing her. So much of their bare skin touched right now that it felt like Misti’s was on fire, the slow burn spreading in a welcoming, relaxing way. She tucked herself closer to Dylori, pulling the covers higher against her chin.
“Zora, could you come over, too?” she whispered.
Zora had been sitting on the desk staring at the door, but at Misti’s call she spun around and flew over. Her wing blew out the small candle on the way, a trick she’d learned when she was little and one that still made Misti smile. Zora curled up on top of the blankets next to Misti’s chest.
“Thank you,” Misti whispered. And with Dylori on one side of her and Zora on the other, Misti fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Chapter Twenty
MISTI WOKE FIRST, STILL curled up against Dylori, with Zora sleeping by her head. She lay there as the bright sunlight streamed into their room, warming the wood with deep golden colors. Nothing ached in her body this time.
Stealing some time alone while she had it, Misti looked inward. She faced that dark pit inside her, and took a hard look at her choices and actions and reactions. She remembered how Zarious had mentioned putting some kind of spell on Zora. How her parents made her feel both childlike and sick to her core. How she couldn’t save her sister. How she’d sunk the dagger into her brother’s thigh. How she couldn’t save him, either, and that knowledge would always be with her. How the pendant was finally off her neck, but she had the scar on her skin and the weight of three deaths on her shoulders because of it. Her sister’s would be the heaviest of all, even if she lived on in some form. Will I ever see Char again? She faced the anger and the pain. She made herself feel it and then let it go, piece by piece. Her sister had been a warrior, a fighter. And in honor of her sister, she wouldn’t run from that pain anymore. She would never run away from her pain again.
Zora stirred, and when Misti looked to her companion animal, Zora met her gaze. Misti had taken Dis’ offering of strength in her moment of need; the desert-heat prickled under her skin until the orb pulled it away. As grateful as she was for it, she hadn’t liked the neades’ strength as much as she had expected to. His raw power always impressed her, but the heat of the energy made her uncomfortable, the urge to move uneasy. She dipped into her crafting to speak with her vulnix.
“Thank you for aiding me in in the fight,” she whispered, not wanting to wake Dylori just yet.
Zora swished her tails. “You are welcome, my friend. What did you think of the neades’ strength?”
The scorching heat flashed into her mind, contrasting sharply with the soothing calmness of Zora’s energy—warm, but not overly hot. “His energy was powerful, but I’d rather have the gift come from you from now on.”
Contentment rippled over the link from Zora. “I am always willing to give it to you.” Licking Misti’s hand, Zora tugged the connection away, breaking their link. She tucked her nose into her tails, her gentle gaze never wavering as Misti sunk back into her thoughts.
As Misti looked inward again, she remembered what Char had said about the sun goddess. Her message was clear, if frightening: somehow, Ponuriah was back. And despite the fact that Misti had never quite believed in the goddesses, she believed her siste
r wholeheartedly. She had already accomplished the mission of telling people, but she’d keep telling more—a scribe of the Athenaeum of the Ancients, the heads of the cities she visited, the comrades at her next job.
But Char’s words about their parents confused her. How they weren’t as bad as they seemed. How the light hadn’t… What did she say? Washed away their souls just yet? It baffled her, so much so that she sat up and roused Dylori from her sleep.
Dylori’s groggy smile and half-lidded eyes almost made Misti forget why she wanted to talk to her, suddenly very aware that they were in the same bed wearing next to nothing. It felt lovely to be so close to her. Dylori was warm and comforting and made Misti feel like there were firegnats darting in her stomach and tingling in her legs, making her core ache in a way that had nothing to do with pain.
Dylori propped herself up on one arm, the bedsheets falling to her stomach as her dark skin soaked up the light. “What’s wrong?” she murmured, her deep rumbling voice thick with dreams. A lock of her dark hair had gotten caught on one of her horns and she brushed it off, then cupped Misti’s cheek with her hand and ran her thumb in little circles over Misti’s cheekbone.
Misti allowed herself to be content in this moment, and then tucked that feeling away for later. Reaching up, she twined their fingers together. “I was thinking about the last words Char said to me.”
Dylori sat fully upright, all sleep gone from her expression. She pulled Misti’s hand in her lap and covered it with her other. “And what were those?” she asked gently.
Sometimes it was hard to see the gray lines by Dylori’s eyes, the ones that marked her neades bloodline, but in the afternoon light her markings stood out clearly on her skin. Misti focused on those lines, drinking in the details of her face, their points drew her to Dylori’s concerned eyes.
“We were talking about our parents, and about Danill.” Do I want to see Char again? Do I want to see what she’s become? Her throat closed as if on instinct, but she swallowed the emotions down. “She said that the light hadn’t washed away all of their souls yet.”
Sunkissed Feathers & Severed Ties Page 35
