The First Dawn (Daughter of the Phoenix Book Three)

by Victoria J. Price

  “I do,” was all Terah said in reply.

  Fia exhaled deeply. “He will kill her if she tries to get it back.” Would he? She might have believed it once. But now she wasn’t so sure.

  “Perhaps.”

  Fia didn’t know if she could stomach another death. “So many have died because of me. Everyone I love dies.”

  Terah took her hand. “It is the way of things, Fia. Ohinyan is cyclical in its very nature, everything here is about the unending cycle. But we’re all with you.”

  “Then why haven’t they come to me?” Fia asked, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “There are rules,” Terah said softly, wiping at Fia’s cheek. Her touch was feather light, but it was neither warm nor cold. Just a presence.

  “You seem to be breaking a lot of them,” Fia said through a half laugh, half sob.

  Terah took her hand again and squeezed it. “I am. Sometimes exceptions need to be made.”

  “I’m forgetting so many things about them all,” Fia said quietly. “That’s what frightens me most. I can barely remember my parents. What if I forget the sound of Sophie’s voice, or the feel of Arion’s mane? Or the way Enne laughs?”

  “Memories need nurturing, Fia. But forgetting those things doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten them. They know that.” She wiped at Fia’s tears again and held her face gently.

  “I can’t let anyone else die because of me,” Fia whispered. She wouldn’t.

  “So don’t let them.”

  Fia looked at Alexander again, the minutes seeming to stretch out between them and the thread pulling tighter.

  “Lorn’s fleet is coming and the sun will die. But I know you will do everything within your power to stop it,” Terah said.

  “What if I can’t?” Fia examined the fire mother’s face one last time and knew their time was up.

  “Then we’ll be seeing each other again soon. It’s time for you to go. Goodbye, Fia.” Terah dispersed into a swirl of turquoise and royal blue, leaving Fia alone in the sky.

  Her body ached. Her chest ached. Her heart ached. By the time the sun died, she was ready to go with it. Terah had confirmed her suspicions. She took a steadying breath, wiped away the last of her tears, and flew down to join Alexander.

  Her feet hit the snow, and she fell to her knees. Alexander was already beside her, his arms on her shoulders, his touch gentle. “Fia, are you okay?”

  She looked up at him, those perfect blue eyes gazing down at her, and took in the curls at the ends of his hair brushing his cheek, the angle of his jaw, the pepper of stubble that ran across it, and fought back the tears that wanted to spill over.

  “I’m alright,” she said, bringing a hand to his cheek, tugging her fingers gently through the waves of his hair. “The wings are heavy.” She rested her head against his and breathed him in. She didn’t have the words to tell him. Not yet. Not like this.

  “I can carry you back, if you’d like me to?” He held her weight, even as they knelt together in the snow, giving her the small respite from the wings that she needed.

  “No,” she said, pulling herself to her feet. “I don’t want to miss out on a moment of flying beside you.” She’d take every stolen second she could get. “Let’s go.”

  They pushed off together into the darkness, and Fia couldn’t help but feel they were flying to the end of the world.

  Chapter Thirty–Two

  Alexander

  I t was late as they approached Djira’s harbour. They’d barely spoken on the way back, but it hadn’t been uncomfortable. Alexander had tried to commit every moment of it to memory; the feeling of flying beside her, of looking to his side and seeing her smile back at him as her hair fell around her in ribbons of red.

  The minute they touched down, Fia shrugged out of the wings, and Alexander took them from her without asking. She didn’t argue, just smiled at him and said a quiet ‘thank you’.

  Boats were still being loaded with people, and Alexander walked close to Fia as they made their way past the hordes of people shuffling onto ramps. Most were Asharian, but there were others from different continents too, along with a few Mizunese and angels helping out. Fia leaned into him as they squeezed their way past.

  There weren’t enough boats to take everyone. Alexander had worried that might be the case, that many would have to remain in the lower half of the city. The temperature had dropped so much, vapour pooled in front of him as he breathed. Fia’s fingers looped through his, but her skin was warm, no hint of the cold bothering her. He closed his hand around hers and gave a gentle squeeze.

  They broke through the crowd of people queuing to get onto the boats, to find a group of Asharians huddling around a metal drum, one of them trying to light it with cold hands.

  “Here,” Fia said, letting a spark fall from her fingertips.

  A fire came to life before them, the eyes of the Asharians huddled around it growing wide and glowing blue. They murmured their thanks, but Fia had read the fear in their expressions and was already moving on.

  “That will never get old,” Alexander said, as she turned to wait for him.

  “What?” She looked up at him, a smirk tugging at the edge of her mouth.

  He closed the space between them, and if it hadn’t been for the wingsuit he was holding, he’d have kissed her right there in the middle of the harbour. “Watching you use your magic.”

  Fia laughed. “I haven’t had enough time to experiment.” She tugged at his hand and they continued on past the families carrying bags and crying children. “I moved the earth when I was outside Djira. Hit Lorn square in the face with a stack of dirt.” She grinned at him, her face lighting up with amusement.

  Enough time. The words stung, but he smiled back at her. It was said that the fire mother could control all the elements—she could do many things. On Earth, they’d made stories about her, called her Gaia. “Have you healed anyone?” he asked.

  “Only myself, and one other.”

  He felt a surge of pride, but the way her expression darkened quickly diminished the feeling. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

  “It was Erebus,” she said, her eyes searching his, waiting for him to say something.

  But Alexander didn’t get the chance to reply, someone was calling out to them. “Alexander, Fia!”

  “Ahrek.” Fia waved him over, and the Asharian paused to wait for a trader passing by, a mule loaded with saddlebags plodding between them.

  “Your return is timely,” Ahrek said, glancing left and right. “The others are up in Ritni’s. We can update each other there.”

  Alexander felt a light pressure at the base of his neck and looked to the skies.

  “What is it?” Fia asked, as if she’d felt him tense beside her.

  “A storm is coming.”

  “Let’s hope it arrives before Lorn does, perhaps it will slow her down,” Ahrek said, as close to a hiss as Alexander imagined an Asharian could get without actually hissing.

  They passed through the stone streets of Djira, taking in the state of the city. Many had made their way down to the docks, but plenty still remained. Alexander hoped the upper half of the city had been completely evacuated, but he knew the Asharians would not have been so easily moved.

  Lamplight cast long shadows amongst the passageways and illuminated one half of Fia’s face. He took in the contour of her lips, the smooth curve of her nose. She smiled at him as she caught his gaze on her, and he felt that swell of pride again for how incredible she was, how strong.

  “I’ll take the wingsuit back to the house,” Ahrek said, holding out his hands to Alexander. “I’ll be back shortly.” The Asharian was already tugging the suit away before Alexander had a chance to protest, and both he and Fia watched as Ahrek’s tail disappeared around a corner and out of sight.

  “I like him,” Fia said with a quiet laugh.

  Alexander pushed open the door to Ritni’s and held it open for her, the wave of chatter and the smell of food co
oking above the fire hitting him at once. Fia slipped through the door and he let it swing shut behind them, then pressed close to her as she weaved through the crowd.

  The tavern was full of soldiers: Makya with paint across their chests and backs, Mizunese, Nords. It was the busiest Alexander had seen it and the nervous energy in the air sang against the magic pressing at his fingertips.

  Fia turned to face him, her eyes searching his. “I only healed him because I had to.”

  “What made you think of that?”

  “I don’t want to keep anything from you.” Her eyes glistened in the firelight, and he wished they could go back to the quiet of Okwata’s place.

  He rubbed a thumb across her cheek and her eyes closed at his touch. “I know you’d only do what you thought was right,” he said softly.

  A drunk Nord stumbled back into Fia, pushing her against Alexander’s chest. She reached her arms around him and he pulled her close. “I trust you,” he breathed, the scent of fan berries drifting from her hair.

  She stayed for a moment, then looked up at him and smiled. He wanted to ask her what Terah had told her, but he knew she was most likely waiting to tell the others too. There was a part of him that didn’t want to know, a part of him that was afraid of what the truth would be. She turned away and he followed her through the tavern to a long table on the other side of the fire where their friends sat.

  Noor sat beside Evina, Rainn, Jax and Aura, and the angels raised a mug to him as he and Fia passed. Noor and Evina inclined their heads in greeting. Further down the table, Maab and Pietje sat beside each other, Okwata and Altair opposite. Beside them, Runa and Malachai leaned into the conversation.

  Not all the faces were the same, but it felt just like the night before the battle in the south, the night before Enne had died and countless others. Runa dragged over two stools for them, pulling Fia into the one beside her.

  A barman brought over two plates of pie and a basket of bread rolls, and another Asharian with an apron across her tunic brought their drinks.

  “Everything’s gone to plan?” Alexander asked his friends as he tore off a piece of bread. His walk through the city had told him all he needed to know. He was just stalling, trying to give Fia a moment to eat and rest before the questions started. If the responsibility weighed on her, she never once let it show.

  Malachai pushed his empty bowl away. “We’ve a front line ready up on the wall, the Makya soldiers have been marked, witches and Mizunese have been given their orders. Nords as well. General Jarl is still on his way, but more angels have arrived since you left. Scouts tell us Lorn will be here by morning.”

  Just in time for the storm, Alexander thought. He’d wanted to test a theory since Deganis when the Tahjiik’s attack had sparked an idea, but he hadn’t had much time to dwell on it.

  Ahrek had returned, and the others had all shuffled closer.

  “Did you meet with the fire mother?” Altair asked Fia. He rolled the little nut in his hands, the one he was never without. The one with the likeness of his wife carved into it. He’d lived so long without her, and yet here he sat, an old man, still missing her, still thinking of her, even now. For a moment it struck Alexander how much he had learnt from the man sat opposite him. How Altair had been there for so many pertinent moments in his life—how, despite his age, Altair had still made sure he was here for this. For all of them.

  Fia pushed her bowl away, and grabbed a piece of bread, picking at it. All eyes were on her, and Alexander could tell by the way she’d tensed beside him that she knew it. He reached out under the table, resting a hand on her knee, and she took a deep breath.

  “I did see Terah,” she said, popping a small piece of bread into her mouth.

  Alexander absentmindedly traced circles with his thumb as she spoke.

  “She said I have to go to the aether to rekindle the sun. But first, I need your help.” Fia looked at each of them in turn then, even Evina and her angels. “I need to get close to Lorn.”

  “How close?” Noor asked.

  The syphoning. Realisation struck Alexander and he stilled. Fia glanced up at him, as if she knew.

  “Close enough to touch her,” she said. “The second fire mother had so much power it destroyed her.”

  “It’s split between both of you, isn’t it?” Alexander asked, but she didn’t meet his gaze, just toyed with the piece of bread she was still holding.

  “Yes. I need your help to get to the aether,” she said, looking at everyone, at everyone but him. And then to Okwata, “Do you know a way?”

  “My knowledge of the aether is limited, but I have texts. I will look. What of the windows?” Okwata rubbed at his chin as he spoke.

  “The windows to Earth will stabilise,” Fia said, casting her bread aside.

  Runa clapped her hands together and touched them to her mouth, her eyes glassy at the news.

  “Ahrek, we need to go home,” the Tahjiik said, patting Ahrek on the arm. The Asharian nodded once at them all then cleared a path through the tavern, Okwata close behind him in his chair.

  “So everything will go back to normal, once you rekindle the sun?” Runa asked, wiping at a tear. It was a relief, all of it. It had been a weight they’d all carried, the not knowing; for Alexander too. And here Fia sat, full of answers.

  “Some changes will be permanent. Some can be undone, in time,” Fia said, reaching for Runa’s hand. She had done all of this, brought them all together.

  Nothing lasts forever, Maab had said at Enne’s funeral. But that is the beauty of Ohinyan, he’d gone on to say, repeating Enne’s words. “I hope some of the new changes we’ve implemented will remain. The people of Ohinyan have come together when they were most needed. I for one want to see our new alliances continue for many years to come,” Alexander said, running a thumb along the rim of his mug.

  Pietje lifted his mug. “I’ll drink to that.”

  “To Enne and Arion, and all the friends we’ve lost,” Alexander added.

  He had so many plans for the future. For Ohinyan. For Earth. But it would be empty without Fia in it, and the way she wouldn’t meet his gaze when she’d been explaining about her and Lorn, it turned his stomach.

  “It’s been a long day,” Fia said a heartbeat later, pushing up from the table. “I’m going to head back to Okwata’s. Goodnight, everyone.”

  “I can walk you back, if you’d like?” Alexander offered, rising beside her.

  “I would.”

  Alexander followed Fia out into the streets of Djira.

  “Is there something…” He didn’t know if it was right to ask, but he couldn’t push aside that sinking feeling. “I can’t lose you,” he said, his fingers flexing through her hers.

  “You said you trust me,” she said, looking up at him.

  “I do.”

  “Then trust me.” She reached up to kiss him, her lips pressing softly against his.

  He’d never felt so afraid of anything in his life. Fia pulled away, and they walked in silence the last few streets to Okwata’s, her hand still in his.

  They made their way inside, through stone corridors until they reached his room, unspoken words hanging in the air between them. Fia pushed the door open but didn’t sit, she chewed at her lip for a moment and began to pace.

  Alexander sat on the end of the bed, watching the way she moved, the way she untied her hair and combed her fingers through it. Countless questions sat on the tip of his tongue, but he waited for her to speak.

  “I think we have a day, at most,” she said, still pacing. “If I can’t get to the aether…” She raked a hand through her hair again, her brow furrowed like she was working through a dozen questions.

  A day. “Okwata will find a way,” Alexander began.

  Fia stopped pacing, leaning against the wall, her gaze fixed on Alexander. “I think I might know of a way. I do know a way. I just… I’m not sure yet.”

  “What about Erebus?” Alexander asked.

  “I don’t
want to think about him. About any of that.” She closed the space between them. “I just want to think about this,” she said, bringing a hand to his chest. “You.”

  He pushed himself off the bed, but she took a step back, trying to hide a smile as she bit down on her lip. He’d crossed three worlds for her. He’d cross a million more if he had to. Cross the aether, whatever it took, to never give this up. To never lose her.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, taking a step towards her.

  She tilted her head to one side, still biting down on that lip, and it took every inch of his restraint not to press his mouth against hers. She took another step back, her gaze burning into him.

  “Strong,” he said, with another step. She stepped back again.

  “Incredible,” he said, and this time before she could move he lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist and they fell back against the wall, his wings around her, cushioning her and pulling her close.

  She gasped, the gold flecks in her eyes sparkling as she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, along his shoulders. A tear rolled down her cheek and he kissed it away; kissed her jaw, her ear, her neck. The fear that had coiled its way around his heart earlier tried to work its way to the surface, but he pulled her closer, as if just holding her to him would keep her safe from what was ahead.

  Alexander kissed her collar bone, her back arching and her hips pressing tighter against him as she ran her fingers along the edges of his wings, her touch feather light, exploring just as he was. He traced kisses along her jaw to her throat and lower, her fingers winding through his hair. That thread between them pulled tight, and he looked up to meet her gaze, their ragged breathing matching each other’s.

  His heart swelled at the sight of her. The way her hair fell around her face, the fullness of her lips. He held her gaze for a moment, and then kissed her deeply, her lips parting for him, her hips moving against his. He could feel her heartbeat matching his own, feel the hum of her magic against his. She pulled back to catch her breath, pressing a soft kiss against his neck, her breath warm against his skin.