by Gwynn White
“I get that. But it doesn’t mean you need to be rude to Suren.”
Ildrim’s beak jerked around and stabbed her leg. She yelped, even though it didn’t draw blood. That didn’t prevent a tongue of blue-green flame shooting from her hand. It shaved past Ildrim’s beak to dart between Feral Fox and Vlad, who both jumped away. The wind moaning through the platform picked it up. The flames roared all the way to the stairs before they snuffed. More poured from her hand.
Ildrim reared. The sleigh hit the floor with a thump and then bounced up at whiplash speed. If she hadn’t grabbed the front railing, she’d have been tossed onto the purple stone.
“Whoa!” Averin called. Ildrim and the sleigh settled like a rock. “Stasha, douse that fire. Now.”
Her fire burned even brighter.
“Darkness curse you, Averin! You know better than that.” She plunked her fiery hand onto her lap. “You should have anticipated something like this.” She risked lifting a finger to point at the vortex. “A palace built on a cloud held up by butterflies… none of us have seen anything like this.”
“They’re not butterflies. They’re fairies,” Averin said mulishly.
Fairies? Holding up a palace?
The enormity—and stupidity—of it knocked some of the puff out of her attack. Not that she’d let Averin know, since he was going to be cold and unapproachable to her and unconscionably rude to Suren. “Some would say it’s a showy waste of magic.”
“A what?” Magic streaming from both hands, Averin stalked to her. Never since meeting him did he look so determined to harm her. For a split second, she was back outside the shop in Drueya, where Averin had confronted her about his stolen coin. His menace had terrified her, and it had taken everything she’d had to look nonchalant as she’d agreed to fight him in the pit.
Now she scoffed at him. That frightened girl was long gone. The new Stasha could destroy him before he even blinked. Except she could never hurt Averin, no matter how much he infuriated her. How cruel it was that her feelings for him left her vulnerable, almost naked, in front of him.
Knowing the son of Zephyr, it was best not to show that weakness.
She stood up and tossed her head back. “Seems you’ve forgotten the deal you made with me.” She narrowed her eyes. “Have I asked you even once what awaits me in your palace?” It worked. Hands still trailing menace, Averin skidded to a stop and opened his mouth to speak. She cut him off with a jerk of her hand. “Don’t bother answering. Everyone knows the truth.”
All around heads shook. She stood taller that it included Trystaen and Eliezar.
“Now honor the deal by having some respect for what Suren has sacrificed for all of us.” Flame danced between her fingers. Ildrim reared again—not unexpectedly, she guessed—and the sleigh tipped. How had she not seen that coming?
Arms pinwheeling, she fought for balance. Sadly, her legs were no match for the wildly gyrating sleigh. She tumbled onto her seat and hit her head against the wooden side with an eye-wateringly sharp crack.
Fire leapt from her hand onto the plush white seat covering. Hopelessly flammable, it caught alight and crackled away merrily. She jumped up, but beating fire with fire was pointless.
Water magic surged through both arms. Her breath snagged, and her heart raced.
Get back, she yelled. The water subsided, rolling back into that familiar glowering ball.
Wind whistled icily against her. The flames devouring the bench stuttered and died. She drew in her next breath, but there was no air. She pulled in another draft, but no air found its way into her lungs. She gagged and clawed her throat. Was Averin trying to punish her? If so, she’d kick his—
“Stasha, breathe.” Averin bolted to her side and clasped her shoulders. “All I did was stop the flames.” He sounded like an orphan falsely accused of messing up the dorm. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
She sucked in and found air. Suffocation would be a horrific way to die. After two big gulps, she slumped onto her bench. Charred black dust puffed up around her.
Averin might have sounded like a whipped puppy, but she’d definitely lost that battle.
She couldn’t lose the war.
Suren was in Zephyr to support her. That made him her responsibility. Likewise, Klaus, Feral Fox, Vlad, and Ivan would never have come if not for her. Their safety and happiness were also in her soot-blackened hands.
Everything she knew about Averin—his honor, his bravery, his values—would be crushed if he continued to treat Suren like the enemy. If he failed her now, she could never trust his assurances that she and her other friends would be welcomed in his palace by his family.
She stood again, not wanting him looking down on her. She waved a sooty finger at him. It helped clear some of the ash that drifted in a black cloud between them. “I’ve held true to my side of the bargain, so honor yours by acknowledging that Suren isn’t the enemy.”
Averin’s face shuttered. Worse, he’d levitated a foot off the ground—a red flag that he was about to lose his temper. She pulled every muscle taut and fixed her haughtiest expression.
It didn’t stop him snarling. “Stasha, Zephyr is my land. You may be our closest ally, but it’s not your place to tell me what to do.” His feet hit the floor with a thud. “The wind scours the Infinity Crossing unceasingly.” His voice also dropped. “It looks for gossip, nonsense it can spread to every corner of Zephyr. Not even my father can stop it, even if he deigned to try. Which he wouldn’t. Magic—even yours—comes with a price. You just haven’t yet discovered the bargain your magic demands from you.” She had—exhaustion—but he didn’t know that, and she couldn’t tell him. “Here in Zephyr, we have. We trade gossip for power. By nightfall, there won’t be a fae in Zephyr who doesn’t know what happened here today.”
Every fae in Zephyr would know she’d set fire to Ildrim’s sleigh? A blush rushed through her so fast, it left her light-headed. To buy time to calm her red face, she looked past Averin at his precious fairy vortex.
She frowned, unseeing, as she ran the conversation through her head. Her tactless comment about the vortex being a showy waste of magic wasn’t going to win her too many allies. She’d need to watch her back.
As for burning the sleigh—
Her face had chilled enough for her to scoff. Her fire was the reason Averin wanted her so badly. Let his people know she wasn’t scared to use it.
Suren was a different matter. Had she just made things worse for him? She swallowed to lubricate her suddenly bone-dry throat. Averin was bound to protect Suren at the palace but not beyond. Had she put a huge target on Suren’s back, one that effectively made him a prisoner in Averin’s palace? She was about to apologize to Suren when the gusting wind shifted. Her nose twitched.
Dead things.
She sucked in a confirming breath, but there was no doubt about the smell coming from the fairies. As pretty as they were, to her at least, they stank of rot and death, just like the Tiyanak. Only this was far worse.
Zephyr was held up as a light in a dark world.
In truth, if the smell was anything to judge by, Zephyr hid lies and secrets far worse than anything Trystaen had revealed in Atria. How was she supposed to protect her people in a kingdom built on such treachery? And why didn’t the wind broadcast that gossip to the world?
“Stasha?” Trystaen’s voice hooked her. “You look terrible. Are you okay?”
She pulled her eyes away from the fairies. Everyone—Averin included—watched her with varying degrees of concern. She brushed some of the cinders from her leggings. “I’m fine. Really, I am.”
Klaus frowned at her. He cleared his throat. “Um, Averin.” Even though he’d been carried up the stairs, he was pale from exertion. He leaned heavily on his good leg. The last week or so had worn him out.
Her heart stuttered. Instead of arguing with Averin and the stupid bird, she should have kept her mouth shut. They could have been at the palace by now, where Klaus could rest.
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br /> “Unlike Stasha,” Klaus continued, “we—I—don’t want to offend anyone. So please accept my apology on Stasha’s behalf.” Oh, Klaus. Gentle, kind brute that he was. She almost launched out of the sleigh to hug him, but that wouldn’t speed things up.
Averin softened visibly. “Apology accepted.” He lifted Klaus and placed him on the seat behind hers. He even pulled a white fur out from under the seat and tucked it across Klaus’s lap.
Klaus grabbed Averin’s arm. “Please explain the true purpose of the vortex to me.”
“With pleasure. It’s a message to every fae alive, Darien included, that the Trysael dynasty has more than enough power to waste magic on frivolous displays of beauty.”
“I still don’t get it.” Klaus’s brow was knotted. “We’re in your capital, right?” When Averin nodded, he added, “So that vortex is above the city?”
“Perhaps a bit of history will explain it.” Trystaen hopped onto the seat next to Klaus. Luckily Klaus was small because there wasn’t much room with the big fae jammed in next to him. “King Seph’s father built the capital of Zephyr in the ring of mountains that surround us.” Trystaen waved at the snow-capped range. “Easily defensible. But he went a step further and used his prodigious magic to blast the center of the range into the sky. He then sculpted a palace out of the rock. The vortex keeps that palace above the city. Now it’s King Seph who keeps the vortex swirling. If it stops, the palace will fall. After destroying every fae in the capital, the shockwave will kill thousands of others all over Zephyr. Our enemies will slaughter the survivors for they will know the Trysael magic has been spent.”
“Hang on. Not so fast.” Little Vlad stopped with one foot in the sleigh and the other dangling. “What about the humans? No mention of them?” Good point. The rest of the battalion also perked up like beagles on a scent.
Trystaen brushed strands of wind-whipped hair off his face. “What about them?”
“There are humans in Zephyr.” Vlad posed the question like a statement of truth.
Trystaen nodded. “Sure. Humans live in Zephyr.” Coming from Trystaen, that could only be called a suspiciously brief answer.
Suddenly frightened for her friends, she spun to face him square on. “Where do the humans live?” She’d not only grown up on stories of how the fae mistreated the humans in their kingdoms, she’d survived Tarik’s death. It hadn’t stopped there. Just days before, they’d rescued her human friends from a fae death camp. As much as her pounding heart wished things in Zephyr were different, the stink leaching off the fairies told a different tale.
Trystaen avoided her gaze.
“There are very few humans quartered in the capital.” Eliezar’s soft voice was as loud as thunder in the frozen silence. “They prefer to live apart from the fae. Something I’m sure you can all appreciate.”
“Too right,” Vlad said. Like her, he wasn’t known for his tact. “But they’d be killed too if the palace fell?”
“They are mortal. It would certainly destroy them all,” Eliezar said, with his usual icy calmness.
“Good.” Vlad swung up into the sleigh and flopped on the bench behind Klaus and Trystaen. “Just don’t forget about them. Us.”
Eliezar’s lips quirked. “Not likely, Master Vlad. You’re fierce enough to keep us all on our toes.”
“Enough chatter.” Averin waved everyone else onto the sleigh. “We’ve kept this noble friend waiting long enough.”
Nervous laughter rippled across the platform as, one by one, the rest of the Askavol battalion scrambled onto the remaining benches. Once Feral Fox, the last to board, was securely in his spot, Averin hopped up next to her. He fumbled under the bench, pulled out a white fur that had somehow survived the burning, and tucked it over their legs. It sent up a cloud of soot, which quickly settled on the fur, marring its pristine surface with a raven sheen.
It seemed an apology was in order. She tossed her braid over her shoulder and shot him a broad smile. “Sorry about your sleigh. I really didn’t intend to set it alight. I mean, it’s a very fine sleigh.”
“And you’re an expert on those now?” His lips twitched as he burrowed the fur around them until she was cocooned in between it on the sleigh side and him on the other.
It was so cozy, she wanted to snuggle up against him and forget about the terrible smell and all her fears. Not possible, so she pushed the bravado. “Of course. Just like I’m an expert on everything. You should know that by now.” She pulled her hands out of the toasty warmth and flexed her fingers. “I’m even mastering my magic.” Now there was a lie, but she wanted to open the discussion on her ice-cracking so she could quell Averin’s suspicions with a bit of misdirection about what had happened.
“You are many things, my pit princess, but expert at fire control is not one of them.” Instead of rising to her bait, he picked up a set of reins she hadn’t noticed. They were unburned, but like everything else, the white leather was sooty. “Your lessons with Eliezar can’t come quickly enough.”
She shuddered so sharply at the prospect of wolf-like Eliezar digging about in her head that Averin tucked the fur more tightly around her.
To goad him, she joked, “Give me time, and I’ll singe one of your oh-so-pretty eyebrows right off your face without even raising a sweat.”
“My sweat or yours?” For some reason, Averin refused to be drawn into the ice-breaking question. Perhaps he was leaving it to Eliezar to solve. He flicked the reins, and Ildrim spread his wings. With a haunting cry, the eagle leapt off the platform, right into the heart of the fairies.
The fairies shifted to make space for them.
“Yours,” she said, suddenly distracted by something more important. Encircled by fairies, she snorted in a cautious breath to test the smell.
There was no trace of rot or dead things.
She frowned, uncertain. She definitely hadn’t imagined the smell. But for it to be gone—
The Tiyanak had been watching her. Not just watching her—stalking her.
The hair rose on her arms and the back of her neck. He could easily have glamoured himself to look like a fairy. Even his silver eyes would be lost in the swirling mass.
“You’ve gone ominously quiet, pit princess. Anything I should be worried about?”
Only a Tiyanak eating you if I let slip what’s really worrying me.
“I’ve a million questions about the palace. That’s all.”
“Only a million? Seems to me you’re losing your touch.”
A thumb-sized fairy landed on her shoulder to grab a free ride. She flinched and turned slowly to look at it. Enormous black eyes, set in a bright-blue, heart-shaped face, peered back at her. They were nothing like the Tiyanak’s. She let some of her tension ooze away.
“I’d say you’re being honored by the visitation, but it would be a lie,” Averin said, holding his arms out. “They’ll sit on whoever makes them welcome.” A dozen fairies settled on him.
Averin would think it strange if she didn’t invite the creatures in, so she lifted her arms. Silvery wings tinkling like wind chimes, fairies swarmed her. Within seconds, she was clothed in sparkling blue and silver. As far as she could see, none of them had silver eyes.
The tickle of their spindly blue feet on her face and hands made her laugh. Behind her, Klaus and the rest of the battalion’s guffaws joined hers. Seemed everyone was being visited by Zephyr fairies.
A fairy landed on her lips. She was about to blow it away when Averin leaned in and scooped it up with a sooty finger. She shivered deliciously at his touch. A flick of his fingers sent the fairy tumbling away. Mouth close to her ear, he whispered, “Please remember that you agreed to come with me to Zephyr.”
Despite the warm brush of his lips on her ear, the knot in her stomach tightened. “Please remember the sacrifices made along the way for all of our sakes. Including yours. And you didn’t exactly give me much choice in the matter. You make it sound like I’m about to regret my decision.”
“E
ven if we both live to be a billion years old, I’ll remind you daily that you made the bargain freely.” His lips stroked her ear. “And as to regrets…” He pulled away, leaving her cold. “Like it or not, life always brings our share of those. Sometimes even an unfair portion of them.”
She jerked around to read his eyes. They were the best measure of Averin’s many moods. If he were to permanently hide them, she’d be lost. Now they were the deepest midnight blue but without the sparkling stars. Guarded, she decided. “You know the suspense is killing me, right?”
He took her cold hand in his. “Me too, to be honest. It’s not every day I bring home a fae like you.”
She lay back on the charred bench with her head leaning against his arm. “Whatever happens, please don’t stop being my friend.”
Unsmiling, he looked straight ahead. “I’m not the one we need worry about.”
“You think I’ll reject you?” She bit her lip. “I mean… your friendship? That’s crazy. Who else do I have in Zephyr? Everyone I care about is on this sleigh. You’re all my people. I can’t afford to lose a single one of you.”
Averin sighed. “Whatever happens, just know that I’ll always be true.”
Sweat broke out on her hands, so she pulled away from him and tucked them back under the fur before he noticed.
Averin bumped shoulders with her. “I’d tell you what I mean, but I’m afraid you’d set the sleigh alight. This high in the sky, that wouldn’t be good for all your people.” How convenient.
She scowled at the fairies. They’d thinned out. Ildrim’s powerful wing strokes had soared them to the cloud table. Seen up close, it wasn’t flat.
Cold, grasping fingers of sentinel mist guarded the Trysael palace. They raked her hair and face.
Teeth chattering from their dank touch and the arctic wind powering off them, she pulled the fur up under her chin. The fairies clinging to her dropped away, as if they, too, were repelled by the cloud’s glacial touch.
Face set in a hard line, Averin didn’t seem to notice the cold.