He shook his head again and looked away.
Whatever. She needed to pee. Slipping away from the camp in the opposite direction, she found a nice dense bush to hide behind. She had no wish for the others to hear her pee, but she needed to stay close.
It didn’t take long to finish her morning routine. She headed back to camp when a melancholy song wove through the trees and reached her. Whispering through the leaves, the song clutched her gut and twisted.
She whirled around and scanned the forest. Dappled light played off the morning dew and a soft breeze teased the leaves. Birds sang to each other and a steady buzz of insects hummed in the air. She unfurled her wings, stretching them out and arched her back. Something popped. Relief spread through her limbs.
Ahh. That’s the spot.
A sense of unease stabbed at her brain, urging her to turn. She flung up her arm and twisted. A large fuzzy thing barrelled into her. Breath stolen, she gasped for air.
Sharp teeth punctured her arm. Pain exploded.
She flew through the air with the beast attached to her arm and hit the ground hard. The monster released her, backed up and crouched to attack again.
A bearcat.
Dread slammed through Cora and choked off the scream stuck in her throat. Instant recognition of the animal from cautionary tales and horror stories from her youth paralyzed her.
A cross between a black bear and a mountain lion, the obsidian coloured bearcat showcased the truly twisted ideas of the pre-cascade scientists. With a bear’s speed, size and strength, and the large cat’s agility, stealth and prey drive, the bearcat was an apex predator originally created as a weapon. Like all things of the wild, though, the bearcat never took to the training process. The “Bearcat Project” had been slated for termination when the nuclear apocalypse struck. The monsters that survived the intense radiation emerged as something far more fearsome than the scientists had hoped for.
The bearcat snarled and launched.
Still sprawled on the ground, she scrambled to avoid the beast. Claws ripped at her flying leathers. She rolled and flung out her free arm. The other was trapped under her body.
The furry beast struck again and latched onto her forearm. Sharp teeth sunk in. Drool dripped from its mouth and splattered Cora’s face. Pain stabbed her shoulder.
She was going to die here.
Mauled by a bearcat two feet from a pool of piss.
Ignoring the pain, she wrenched her trapped arm from under her body. Something popped. Blood ran down her other arm as it lost feeling. With numb fingers, she clutched her dagger hilt and drew it.
The bearcat swatted at her. Claws shredded her flying leathers and the skin beneath. The beast swung again, higher. Cora ducked, catching the heavy paws with her arms and shoulders. More blood flowed from her skin.
Breathing hurt. Her heartbeat hurt. Everything thudded in her ears.
The bearcat gripped her arm in a bone-crushing hold with its teeth and shook its head back and forth.
Cora flung the dagger up, stabbing the beast in the neck.
Too weak. The blade didn’t sink in past the tough fur-covered skin. Some history books claimed the fur was more akin to little hairs of metallic armour than the fur of a bear or mountain lion.
Her arm wasn’t responding correctly. She screamed and drove the weapon in with as much force as she could gather. The dagger pushed through the fur.
The bearcat’s eyes widened and its grip on her arm loosened.
She brought her legs up between them and pushed the animal off her. Covered with blood, the dagger slipped from her grip, still stuck in the bearcat. The animal flew backward.
She scrambled to her feet, slipping in a pool of blood.
The bearcat crouched again, ambivalent to the dagger sticking out of its neck. She must’ve missed the carotid. Damn it. How was that thing still standing?
An arrow whistled through the air and ripped through the animal’s skull.
With eyes rolling up, the bearcat flopped to the side and twitched.
What? How?
She stumbled and turned in the direction the arrow had come from. Ronin stood twenty feet away. He sunk another two arrows into the beast.
“Cora!” He threw the bow down and ran to her.
Cora staggered, blood coursing down her arms and side. Her vision wavered.
Ronin caught her in his arms before she hit the ground.
“No, no, no, no,” he kept saying.
That couldn’t be good. She must be in bad shape.
He lay her on the ground and patted her body down, pressing a cloth against the wound on her side. He gripped her head, clutching the back of her neck and a bit of her hair. It should’ve hurt, but everything was going numb.
“You can’t die, Cora. You hear me?”
She tried to smile and tell him off. How arrogant. He thought his words powerful enough to defy death. Her mouth didn’t move quite right. “That…an order?’
“Damn right, it’s an order.” He looked away and barked at someone to help.
Her mind drifted and her vision closed around her.
Ronin held her close, his iron and pine scent curling around her. The heat of his body provided warmth where everything else was getting so cold.
“You will always be more than a messenger to me, Cora.”
His words accompanied her into the darkness.
34
“So much of who we are is where we have been.”
William Langewiesche
“A fucking bearcat,” someone cursed.
Cora blinked against the dense fog in her mind. A warm glow of firelight danced against her face and the right side of her body.
“I’ve never seen one before,” someone else said.
“Of course not. No one survives seeing one,” the first guy said. Phil. His name was Phil. The other one was Karla. Memories came rushing back.
Where was Ronin?
She shifted her head and groaned. Oh. That didn’t feel good.
“Try not to move,” Ronin said. He crouched down near her side opposite of the fire, his wings fanned out to block the wind from reaching her.
Phil and Karla sat near the fire and cast wary glances at her. “How did you survive?”
Had she survived? It certainly didn’t feel like it. “Luck.” Her voice cracked and her dry throat screamed for water.
Phil shook his head. “No one hears a bearcat attack.”
“How do you know if no one’s seen or heard them?” Ronin asked.
“I’ve been on guard duty and heard the victim’s screams,” Phil said. “No warning. No sighting of the animal, just the…remains.”
Karla nodded. “They’re silent. It should’ve killed Cora right away. No one’s reflexes are that fast.”
She closed her eyes. She hadn’t heard the bearcat, but she had sensed its presence as it launched through the air and she’d heard a song through the trees. In that split second, before impact, she’d managed to adjust her position enough to get her arm in the way of her neck.
“Cora’s good at surviving,” Ronin said over her, his deep breath rumbling. He didn’t sound altogether pleased with his statement.
Her brain stumbled to make some sense of that. Why would he be angry?
Karla grunted. “I’ll say. She’s healing well, too. I didn’t know sapavians were gifted with accelerated healing.”
“We’re not.” Ronin’s voice came out short and clipped.
“So Cora’s special?” Phil chucked another log onto the fire. It crackled and popped, and a wave of heat and smoke hit her face.
“Cora’s always been special.” Ronin moved a strand of hair from her face.
They grew silent.
Cora stared up at the night sky and waited for her brain to finish waking up and push past the numbness.
The smell of meat lingered in the air.
Karla squatted near the fire, using her knife to cut away at something furry. The kingswoman caught her
gaze and held up the severed bearcat paw. “I thought I’d make us all claw necklaces for souvenirs. If you survive, I’ll let you have first pick.”
Phil glared at Karla and Ronin growled.
“What?” Karla stopped her work, shrugging with her knife in one hand and the paw in the other. “I was going for inspirational.”
The distant waves of Carrion Bay called to her, urging her to draw closer. Like a magnet brought too close to its polar opposite, the marine water pulled at every cell inside her. Cora’s chest hurt and emptiness spread through her body, not from Karla’s words or the sight of the bloody paw, but from her injuries. She’d lost too much blood.
“Ocean,” she whispered.
Ronin continued to brush strands of her hair to the side with his fingers. “The ocean?”
“I need to go to it.” She made no sense, even to herself.
“We’ll make Karla shut up,” Ronin said.
“Not that. Ocean.” The tugging increased.
Ronin shook his head. “We’re too far away. I’m worried about moving you.”
The sea called to her. She needed to go to it. Her body ached with need. A life-threatening need akin to breathing. Like her empty lungs needed air, her dry throat needed water and her belly needed food.
“Ocean,” she repeated.
“I’m not taking you there to die, Cora.” His gaze darkened and he balled his hand into a fist. “I ordered you to live. Remember?”
“I don’t want to go to the ocean to die.” She reached out and rested her hand on his chorded forearm. “I want to go to live.”
He grumbled.
“Please?”
The others stood by the fire and started gathering their stuff.
“What are you doing?” Ronin growled.
“Getting ready to leave,” Phil said.
“Oh?” Ronin’s voice grew dangerously low. “Where to?”
“The ocean,” Karla answered, dropping the paw by the fire and slinging her bag over her shoulder.
“Is that so?”
“You heard the lady.” Phil strapped his bedroll to his horse. “She even said please.”
“Don’t pretend like you’re capable of denying her anything,” Karla said.
Ronin snarled and rose to his feet. “You’re finally right about something.”
Cora relaxed into the makeshift bed and smiled. The emptiness stopped spreading, filled with hope and an odd understanding that the ocean would make everything better.
35
“The advance of genetic engineering makes it quite conceivable that we will begin to design our own evolutionary progress.”
Isaac Asimov, The Beginning and the End
Ronin swung his leg over the back of the horse to dismount first. Despite Cora’s protests and colourful language, he insisted she ride with him and not on that stubborn horse that looked like a cow. He’d held her the entire ride. Instead of fighting him and sitting rigid in the saddle, she’d slumped against him, resting her head on his shoulder with her forehead pressed into his jaw.
Not good. She never would’ve shown such vulnerability under normal circumstances.
She’d lost too much blood.
The ride should’ve taken twenty minutes or so, but they took double the time. Phil had stitched Cora’s wounds together and Karla had dressed them, but too much jostling could open them again.
He tightened his hold on her.
Too much blood.
An image of her in a bloody heap at that beast’s feet flashed through his mind and twisted his gut. How could she survive that? One look and he thought he’d lost her. The others had to pry him off to tend to her wounds.
To sit in front of him with her back pressed to his chest, Cora had to span her wings out and back, essentially bordering him between two walls of black feathers. It couldn’t be comfortable but having the feathers brush against him eased the tension gnawing at his muscles.
She was here. She was okay. She was going to be all right.
Another memory of lifting her shredded, limp body in his arms rose. He swallowed the rising stomach acid and patted the black mare’s rump.
Cora still sat in the saddle, face pale, expression drawn, and lips pressed tightly together.
He held both his arms out. She really was feeling awful. Instead of arguing or fighting, she slowly swung her leg over, reached out and held onto his shoulders, letting him pull her from the saddle. She clung to him, with what had to be the last of her strength, breathing heavy. She pressed her forehead to his chest as if her head weighed a hundred tons.
He didn’t let go.
He’d never let her go again.
“We’re almost there,” he whispered into her hair. “You can do this.”
She trembled and leaned into him more. “I…I don’t know if I can.”
He held her up, taking on more of her weight to prevent her from falling. “I’ll carry you, then.”
She nodded.
He reached down, hooked his arm under her knees and hoisted her into his arms. She coiled her wings tight to her body. Hopefully, he wouldn’t trip on them. He’d spent their trip here wondering what the hell they were doing. He’d wanted to yell, to rail against the absurdity of a trip to the beach. But he didn’t. He sucked back all the criticism and questions, choosing to make Cora as comfortable as possible instead.
Over Cora’s head, he caught Phil’s gaze. Neither of the king’s hunters had dismounted.
“Will you two give us some privacy?” he asked.
Without a word, Phil nodded and nudged his horse away from the shore.
Karla stopped her horse in front of them. “We’ll secure the perimeter.” She spurred her horse to follow her comrade.
Ronin held Cora to him and turned to the ocean. It wasn’t as angry today. This section of the bay had a protective inlet surrounded by trees.
Ronin stepped away from the forest and onto the sand. “The ocean is right here, Cora. You made it.”
She clutched the neck piece of his armour. “I need to go in.”
He shook his head. “We don’t have enough field dressings to replace the ones you have on. They need to last until we make it to the outpost.”
She looked up at him, eyes wide, lashes long. “I need to go in. I can’t explain why. I just do.”
He sighed. “You will not die on me.”
Her lips twitched. “Promise.”
“Clothes on or off?”
They both looked down at her damaged flying leathers. They were ruined. While they waited by her bedside to see if she’d live, Phil had stitched the gear into something workable. They’d never function as proper protection against the elements again.
“Off.”
He nodded and set her down. Normally, he’d relish peeling off her clothing one piece at a time, but not now. Not this time. He concentrated on removing the clothing without catching the stitches or tugging the bandages free. She stood naked in his arms and all he wanted to do was wrap her back up in a blanket and make her pain go away.
He was now the king of the Eyrie. He commanded an entire island of sapavians. He had warriors, guards, and spies. He could snap his fingers, bark an order and someone would see it done.
And he’d never felt so helpless in his life.
Cora reached up with her hand and rested her palm on his face. “It will be okay”
He closed his eyes and released her. She stepped from his arms and turned to walk into the ocean.
The gentle waves slapped against her shaking legs. She wobbled, but kept going, walking slowly until she was submerged to her neck.
She spun in the ocean and faced him. For the first time since the attack, her expression was no longer pinched. She looked at ease. Relaxed.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and dropped back into the water, falling beneath the water’s surface.
Ronin froze. He squashed the urge to race into the water after her. Instead, he squeezed his hands into fists and curled
his toes inside his boots. He began to count.
Tiny bubbles surfaced from where she went under. The ocean lightened and the swells grew stronger.
What in the bloody bird hell?
Thirty seconds.
Come on, Cora.
A ball of light glowed from beneath the surface. An inhuman, non-birdlike groan vibrated through the air, so low, the waves lapping at the shore almost drowned it out. It sounded as if the ocean had opened its mouth and sung the lowest note possible.
Fifty seconds.
How long could she hold her breath?
He’d been holding his the entire time and already grew light-headed.
Cora’s head popped out of the water. She took a long breath and whispered something too quiet to hear.
Her gaze locked on his and she walked out of the ocean. The water trailed down her body, caressing her breasts, and trickled down her legs before returning to the ocean.
His mouth grew dry. He swallowed. If only he could reach out and follow the path of the water with his fingers. Or tongue.
Her body, lean and strong from flying was something he dreamed about and continued to dream about. Strong legs, soft around the hips, flat stomach, full breasts.
He licked his lips. He yearned to touch her and show her exactly how much he appreciated her physical beauty. But that’s not what drew him to her most. It was never about possessing her body.
Her dark gaze bore into his, challenging, defiant and intelligent. There it was. Her spirit. That’s what he loved about her most. She embodied strength and perseverance.
The woman who chose him would need plenty of both.
He frowned and studied her body again.
Wait a minute.
Wait a damn second.
The bandages had fallen away, lost in the tide. The skin underneath still showed the teeth and claw marks, but instead of raw, weeping wounds recently stitched together, newly healed scars sat in their place. The stitches remained, but they were no longer needed to hold anything together.
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