For a moment, I contemplate going by the palace to say goodbye to him but quickly decide against it. Since starting my training, I’ve lived in the Warriors’ Hall while he and my mother live in the palace’s lower levels—the last echoes of my father’s former station. My parents haven’t come looking for me after I took the oath last year. They had stayed in the back. At least they came, I tell myself, and not for the first time. They were there.
My parents still hear the palace news. They probably already know where I’m going. If they’d wanted to say goodbye, they would have sought me out by now.
Besides, they’re not who I really want to say goodbye to.
After determindly rustling through a storage trunk, I manage to find a piece of parchment. I start with her name.
If there’s any chance I don’t return, I want there to be a testament to how I feel. Something she can hang on to that isn’t just memories. I scratch out words, cursing under my breath that I didn’t think out what I wanted to say before starting. Halfway through, I remember to try to keep the scrawl that Rowan’s teased me about for years neat and legible.
The light outside starts to turn from yellow to gold as the sun sets, but there are still hours until the eleventh bell.
When the ink dries, I seal the letter with wax and fly toward Storm’s End. The afternoon’s festivities are in full swing despite the interruption of the bells. Below me, the citizens light lamps across every alleyway and in every window, keeping with tradition. The light of the summer sun must last as long as possible.
The windows at Storm’s End are similarly lit with candles and wide open, even those of the Matron Talla’s private quarters. Landing softly on the matron’s balcony, I take my human form. Straightening my armor, I knock twice to [to announce] announce my presence.
“Come in.”
Inside, the air laced with a citrus scent, emanating from candles. Flowers on the mantelpiece. And books—the matron of Storm’s End kept a library in here, though most of the books are too lengthy to keep the attention of the children in her charge, but not her daughter. Rowan has practically worn through the volumes containing legends of the heroes of old taming beasts of sun and sky to create the world.
Matron Talla leans on her desk, her back hunched. Her hand rests at her lips, as if she is fervently wishing for the right thing to say. She doesn’t rise in greeting or, truly, do very much at all. Light reflects in her eyes as they stare blankly at the door that leads to the rest of the school.
My chest tightens as I put it together. “They were your girls. The ones who died.”
“And another four of mine were quarantined this afternoon.”
“I’m very sorry.” Tentatively, I place the letter on her desk near a glass orb meant to hold down papers on windy days.
“Thank you,” she replies. Finally looking to me, Matron Talla frowns, bemused. So much of Rowan’s stubborn, confident demeanor comes from her mother—and I see it now. “What’s that?”
“A letter for Rowan.” I swear inwardly as I realize I might have made a huge mistake. “She’s not here, is she?”
“She is downstairs still, I think, getting rid of … of the girls’ things. I just returned. Why? I can call her up.”
“No, that’s okay.” Rowan didn’t say anything about the grotto. Talla would mention it. “I was hoping you’d give it to her if … if I don’t come back.”
“They are sending teams, then.” She sees my look and waves her hand idly. “I knew what the sentinels were planning. Is Rowan on a team?”
“No, ma’am. They are only sending warriors.”
Matron Talla exhales a laugh. “I imagine that didn’t sit well with her.”
I match her smile. “No, it didn’t.”
“When do you leave?”
“After the sun goes down. We don’t want the humans to know we’re coming.”
“And you know where the cure is?”
I nod. “We know where to start looking.”
“That’s good,” she says with another sigh. She gets up and opens her arms for a hug. “Come here, Callen,” Talla says sternly, in the way all Leonodai mothers do when they want your attention.
Like any good Leonodai child, I obey. Her embrace has the strength of a hurricane, and I let it rock me for just a moment.
She lets go, but keeps both hands on my shoulders. “You’re a fine warrior, Callen. And a good soul. If it were up to me, I would welcome you as my son.” She laughs at my embarrassed look. “Oh, I’ve known you loved her since before you did, I imagine. It’s not up to me what happens next, but I’ve always thought of you like my own. I’ll keep hoping for your safe return, no matter what.” A wry smile crosses her face. “If anything, for my earring back.”
My hand flies to the stone as if it burned me. “If you—”
“No, no. Keep it,” she says, drawing me in for another hug. “Just bring it back.”
“Thank you, Talla. That means a great deal to me.”
“Your parents did you a disservice, not keeping you close.”
“It only meant that I had more time here. You always welcomed me.” Lots of children on the Heliana run amok among houses. When everyone knows everyone, it’s hard to get lost. Still, those children had parents who would check if their sons came home from playing. Mine never did.
Matron Talla reaches up on her tiptoes to kiss the top of my head. “Come home, Callen,” she says. “That is all I ask. Come home.”
10
ROWAN
The rooftop of the Warriors’ Hall glows from below, save for in one spot. At the junction where the Hall meets the palace ridge, the builders used stone instead of glass to connect the two.
It’s there that I meet up with Ox. He’s already there when I arrive, even though the ninth bell is still sounding. With his eyes fixed on the stars, I am sure he doesn’t see me approaching, but the sound of my wings gives me away.
“Hi,” he says, waiting for me to take my human form and sit down next to him before putting a muscled arm around my shoulders. He kisses my cheek. “You smell like smoke.”
“The sick kids,” I answer. “Two were from Storm’s End. They didn’t make it.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I was helping my mother make sure it doesn’t spread to the other girls. They’ll all be staying at home for a while, but better to be safe.”
He smiles. “You look pretty.”
“The scent of smoke?” I say, tugging at my clothes. “That does it for you?”
“No,” Ox replies with a nudge. “Just … you. You worked hard all day, and yet you still have that light in your eyes.”
“That’s the starlight reflecting,” I reply.
“Not all of it.”
I frown. “You seem very sure.”
“I counted all the stars while I waited,” he says. “There’s an extra one in your eyes.”
Skies. Alive. Ox makes me feel so light, like one of the stars themselves. “Okay, fine, you win.” Gingerly, I lean back and lie down on the chilly stone. Ox does the same, finding my hand as he does.
A clear summer’s night and a handsome boy holding my hand. Any other time, I would feel giddy, or at least content with having him close. Instead, I feel I only want to look at the stars—to dive deeper into them, higher and higher.
Right then, I miss my father. He would have known what to say in this situation. Well, not this exact one, I think, feeling the warmth of my fingers interlaced with Ox’s. But he would have known how to help me when feeling split in two, while pressed by the weight of the secret the sentinels have asked us to keep.
“Are you afraid?” I ask.
“Warriors don’t ask each other about fear.” His tone tells me he isn’t exactly serious, but he isn’t totally wrong. If anyone else were around, I have no doubt that Ox would lie—but here, in our secluded place, it’s just us. Just Ox and me.
So he tells the truth “Yes.”
“I should be going,” I say. “I hate that I’m not.”
“I know.” He props himself up on his elbow. “It’s not fair.”
“I’m a day shy of being a warrior. A day.”
Ox goes quiet. With the glow from the glass rooftop and from the stars above, I can see my reflection in his eyes. “I can’t decide,” he says finally. “I don’t know if I should be angry you are not going or relieved that you will be safe.”
I sit up, too. “I don’t want to be safe, Ox. I want to be fighting.”
“I know, I know. And you should be.
“You have to find it.”
“I will.”
“The humans have guns,” I whisper.
“Sure, humans have guns,” he says. “But we have a city to fight for. And I have a lioness who is braver and stronger than I am who I must come back to.”
He leans in, and I meet him halfway. His hand curves around my head as his lips press urgently into mine. Nothing held back—nothing ever is with Ox.
When we pull apart, he tilts his head skyward. “Race you to the moon?”
“What?”
“Balmora’s no more than a quarter hour’s flight. Besides, we won’t be flying once we get there.” His expression softens. “One last flight. You and me.”
I stand in response, and he grins as I help him up. “Fine,” I say. “Only if you promise it isn’t the last.”
With a swift kiss on my cheek, he steps back and takes his lion form. I’m right on his heels. Stretching my wings into the cool grace of the night, we soar directly skyward. The Heliana shrinks to a dark diamond beneath us before being obscured entirely by moonlight-kissed clouds. Ox slows to let me catch up, but then we’re back to it—wings beating in near unison as the temperature around us slips from chilly to cold, to nearly unbearable. The clouds form a blanket below us until it’s as if nothing exists but us—us and the stars.
The pinpricks of light are out in force, as if they had readied themselves for us to be here. A thicker streak of light blue cuts from one end of the sky to the next. Some say it’s the entrance to the Endless Skies; others say it’s only the start of the path to them.
I close my eyes as the night air rolls over me. The Endless Skies are a myth, a story like that of the Wise Horse and the Heron, or the legendary Exin the Great for whom Callen’s friend is named. Still, it is a beautiful thought. That this life isn’t the end, but the short wait until eternity.
The air gets short in my lungs, and my magic tugs at me impatiently—the Heliana’s power can only reach so far. Wordlessly, we both dive. Every inch of me feels dizzy with joy and the feeling of unmitigated freedom. Anything’s possible up here.
Ox and I fly in lazy spirals around each other, twisting closer and closer as we fall. Every time we pass each other, I see an unrelenting wildness in his expression. He loves this as much as I do.
But wildness knows its limits, as do we. We are warriors first, and when Ox dives back down for the Heliana, I follow. He has to be ready by eleventh bell, and despite his confidence, I know the flight to Balmora won’t be as easy when he is carrying the hopes of the city on his wings.
Worse yet, there is nothing I can do to help carry that weight.
11
CALLEN
Leonodai don’t believe in ghosts. Ghosts and fairies are for the bearkings and their lore. Still, as I fly over the Heliana one last time with the echoes of the tenth bell swirling through the air, I feel as though I am already gone.
I sail through the night air as easily as a fish in water. The stars dress the sky in a glitter of silver and blue, bright against the sliver of the moon. The summer air is just the right amount of cool. By the time I see the sun rise, I’ll be far from here. Far from the lights and laughter of the marketplace, far from the soothing rush of the rivers.
Far from home.
Voices carry from the open arches of the Glass Towers as I land and take my human form —I’m not the only one to arrive early. Another friend from my core group, Jai, leans against the doorframe, his longbow strung across his back. He gives me a nod as I approach. There’s something bundled in his hands.
“Say all your goodbyes?” he asks, giving me a quick hug in support.
“As many as I need to,” I reply. “What’s that?”
“A gift from my little sister,” he replies cheerily, raising the small doll he has clutched in his hand. “I don’t think she understood what was happening. But she understood that I was leaving.” For a second, I catch him tightening his fingers around the doll. She could be the next one sick, I realize. I can practically see the thought as it winds and twists around my friend’s mind.
“Skies keep you, Jai,” I say. “Meet you back at the Warriors’ Hall. Last one back has to kiss Scholar Orr.”
A small smile. Scholar Orr is as infamous for his age as he is for his endlessly long lectures on Leonodai history. “You’re on, Cal. Thanks.”
I spot Sethran across the room and walk over to join him. Over his cobalt robes, Sethran wears a leather breastplate with the Leonodai insignia embroidered on it in gold thread to denote his status. Beside him, Ox sits on the ground with his back to the wall, hands resting on his knees.
“Is Jai okay?” Sethran asks, touching his fist to my shoulder in respect.
“About as okay as the rest of us, Commander,” I reply, returning the gesture. “Waiting on Exin?”
“And on the signal. We have time.” Sethran inclines his head at a group of sentinels at the center of the Tower near the thrones. Sentinel Lyreina pushes back her short dark hair as she goes over the map of Balmora with warrior Io, while sentinels Renna and Carrick make rounds among the warriors. There is an unusual slowness to Renna’s steps. As lead trainer of the warriors-elect, she’s known everyone by name for years. But it’s not the thought of fondness that makes me worry.
It’s the thought that maybe, in her mind, she’s saying goodbye.
The Ninth Sentinel stands apart from the rest of them, keeping a watchful gaze on the room. Shirene and I used to eat dinners together at Storm’s End along with Rowan and her mother—back then, it was a reprieve from warrior training for Shirene and a glimpse at the future for me. Shirene wasn’t one to talk a lot, but she was always receptive to my questions about her training. Unlike her sister, Shirene fits into the city’s expectations like a key to a lock. I was not surprised when she was chosen as sentinel, and it is reassuring to know someone similar in age to me can make it.
The sentinels call all of the commanders over for a moment. Ox watches Sethran as he goes, then clears his throat.
“Hey, Callen,” he says. His voice is steady, though I can’t shake the feeling that this moment was rehearsed. “I have a feeling you don’t like me very much. And I think I know why.” Gee, I wonder. “But we’re on this team together, and I know you want to save those sick kids as much as I do. Loyalty above all. Out there, we won’t have time for anything else.”
Anything else—like the girl we’d both fight for. I don’t want to hear her name on his lips or think about who he’s spent his last hours with … but he is right. If our team is to succeed and find the cure, it means working with—and not against—each other.
Rowan has to stay here, both in heart and in person.
“Loyalty above all,” I reply, offering my hand. “The mission comes first.”
He takes it. “Thank you, Callen.”
“Skies alive, you two are making me look bad,” Exin cuts in as he walks over. He claps a hand on my shoulder. “We had until eleventh bell, didn’t we?”
The four of us have all leaned into our strengths: Exin’s brought his broadsword, which I know he favors. With Ox’s bow, Sethran’s longsword, my axe, and all of us with shields and secondary weapons to rely on in a pinch, we’re a well-balanced team. We can do this.
Our commander returns with waterskins and small satchels for each of us. The shiny buckles on each are imprinted with special markings that told me these were no
ordinary bags. These had been crafted with magic in mind, and would transform to suit our lion forms as our armor and uniforms did. The type was hard to come by, unless you were a healer or messenger. The Sentinels are giving us the best of the best.
Inside, dried meat and fruit are packed in expertly alongside herbs for pain and wound care. “Remember, the sentinels say even a small amount of the cure will do,” he says. “‘A petal a year, a stem a season.’ A six-year-old would only need six petals.”
“Just one flower,” Ox notes. “That much for each child can’t be hard to find, right, sir?”
“Skies, I hope not,” our commander replies.
We wait for the rest of the stragglers in a hushed, humming quiet. Voices carry and find one another, trading words of strength. I catch myself hunching and straighten up, holding the crown of my head high like the instructors taught us in our years of brutal training.
My thoughts turn to the sick kids. Two already dead, and who knows how many others under the healers’ care. They don’t have much time, and neither does the city if things get worse. The sentinels never say the name Garradin out loud, and neither will I. But I can’t be the only one thinking about it.
The unspoken truth everyone knows is that a hundred years ago when the humans poured water and mud into the tunnels of Garradin to kill the fox-kin, the ones lucky enough to escape had their magic snuffed out instantly, like flames blown by storm winds. When the Leonodai’s and bearking’s forces finally pushed the humans back, they found only ordinary foxes, their Knowledge taken from them completely.
The scholars had known animals could lose their Knowledge. After all, even at the time, there were only five peoples who could still shape-shift. But to have witnessed the historic loss was a turning point. The Four Kingdoms came together, with more fervor than ever, and had kept a united front against the humans ever since. My father used to tell me that the reason the bearkings stay on Vyrinterra now is because they are afraid of losing their own magic.
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