Windswept (The Airborne Saga)

by Constance Sharper

  “What’s wrong?” Evelyn asked, cuing Avery from her thoughts. The woman may have been very perceptive or Avery just wore the thoughts all over her face.

  “I’m just thinking about a friend I have...”

  “Well spill. You’ve opened the door.”

  “They’re having relationship problems. Not because they don’t love each other. But because they can’t find a way to live together.”

  “And this friend is you, huh?” Evelyn took it the wrong way but kept on that track. “Are you worried about the girls that the council is trying to set up with Mason?”

  “Wait, what?” Avery twitched a little too much.

  “It’s nonsense. Certainly the council would like someone of more appropriate blood. He’d been engaged before to one of their daughters. But Mason can do what he wishes. He’s higher than the council and he likes you.”

  “You mean Adalyn.” Avery piped in. She’d known of that. She’d known the woman had been a bloodline ‘worthy’ of Mason. Or at least that’s what she always said when she proclaimed that Mason needed her. That he’d ruin everything with a human who didn’t understand their world. In a disturbing way, she almost felt like Anne Boleyn minus the marriage.

  “Yes. Poor dear. I knew her well and it’s just tragic to hear those things.”

  “What do you mean?” Her father’s death? Her kidnapping? Evelyn had so much to choose from, Avery was instantly curious about how much the woman actually knew.

  “Forget I mentioned it. I shouldn’t speak of it.” Evelyn’s hands dropped. She’d finished Avery’s makeup—skimpy wisps of bronzer and eyeliner.

  “What things? Why is everyone so secretive about everything?” Avery asked. “Is this about Samuel’s compound? Did everyone finally decide what was going on?”

  Evelyn let out a whine, like she’d been put on the spot by the executioner. Free of her hands, Avery turned to see her.

  “You told me you were the spider at the center of the web. So tell me what you know. It’ll stay between us.”

  The woman had whitened as much as a ghost. She answered slowly and quietly, her usual boisterous attitude long gone.

  “We must not speak of those things. Or of him. Excuse me.” Evelyn whirled on her heels and made a dash from the room, Avery barely had the opportunity to chase her. She slid into the hall but they suddenly weren’t alone. Passerby’s lingered and in Avery’s momentary hesitation, Evelyn disappeared among them.

  Avery didn’t get the chance to follow. Someone gave her a sharp jab from behind. She turned around to find a tall, older man behind her with a face she didn’t recognize.

  “Get inside. We need to talk.”

  Avery’s mouth went dry. Had someone heard Evelyn’s rant? Avery dreaded each step back inside. The man sealed the door behind them.

  “May I ask who you are?” Avery spoke because she felt the need to say something. The man’s eyes studied her like she was a complex puzzle and he didn’t know where to begin with the pieces.

  “We’ve met before. And Mason sent me. He requested me to look into your condition. I am looking into your condition,” he said without missing a beat. His eyes had glued to the Willow tattoo on her arm that her short-sleeved top did little to hide.

  “You’re a doctor?” she asked in a lowered voice, the new information managing to take away the remaining anger. She corrected her posture on the bed, folded her legs, and brushed the straggles out of her hair with her fingers. Mason’s mind obviously hadn’t left her condition although she’d been doing her best to ignore it. The Willow tattoo had stayed its awkward color and its disobedient strength. It hadn’t caused her much pain but she hadn’t used it. More than anything, it hadn’t gotten better like Mason had promised. Weeks since Mikhail’s attack, there was no change.

  Her question made him straighten up and fix his glasses.

  “I told you, we’ve met before. I’ve made my retirement studying you.”

  Avery took a moment to stare. With a longer look, it appeared she did remember seeing him once before. A long time ago, she’d been in the harpie hospital after the prison had collapsed. Samuel had been accompanied by this man. He didn’t seem particularly remarkable at the time but she knew now that he was probably high up on the medical chain of the harpie civilization.

  “When you’re done with the gawking, close your mouth, and step up. I need to see what magic you can manifest.”

  “Mason told me not to do it, that it’d make it worse.”

  The doctor snatched her wrist in a crippling grip anyways. He flipped it over until the tattoo showed and she let out a grunt of discomfort.

  “You can’t understand something you can’t study,” he said pointedly.

  Avery stiffened her entire body and reluctantly gave in. It took a minute to prep herself. Weeks of trying to avoid using the magic, it would take some mental rerouting to do it now.

  Letting out a breath, she focused on the warmth of her skin and the air in her lungs. She let her toes dig into the carpet and pulled on the magic. It came in the form of a singing sensation that didn’t flare up immediately. She shut her eyes and tried again. It was foolish for the doctor to believe that she could do anything but grasp at straws. She’d attempted this before with more focus and less of a rush only to find little success. He kept complaining anyways.

  “If this is your attempt to slow down the process of removing the Willow magic, then I must protest.”

  Avery’s eyes snapped open and she took a long look at him.

  “I’m not trying to slow the process of removing anything,” she answered defensively. The doctor straightened up, an irritating blank stare of doubt on his face. The look made her temper twitch. He went on.

  “Why would you? The magic has made you a god among men. If you could control it, if it wouldn’t kill you, why would you give it away?”

  She struggled for a reply. Only her mouth flopped open and shut. She’d never thought about keeping the magic—everything about the thing was ‘get it out, out, out, out’. Avery attempted to answer calmly, mostly because she couldn’t think of any other way how.

  “Don’t mistake my tolerance for approval. I have never done anything but clean up messes that the Willow magic has made.” Her skin crawled and she resisted the urge to itch the marking. So what if it had changed her life in a positive way? She had Mason and a new life because of it. But it had equally changed her life in a bad way. But to go back in time and prevent herself from finding the amulet on the beach wasn’t something she would immediately affirm. The thought actually left her puzzled.

  “It’s impossible to say that I’d change things. Though I couldn’t picture how different my life would be, I somehow doubt I’d picture it better. Besides….it’s not even working now anyways. Like I try the same way I always have, but nothing happens. It’s been such a long time and it isn’t working. I’ve used it this much before but it’s different now! It’s changed.”

  She glanced back to see him but he didn’t budge. The expression he wore didn’t betray if he believed her or not. He changed the subject.

  “Have you considered changing the way you try to use it?”

  “It doesn’t work like that.”

  He grunted. “Humor me.”

  She frowned. He hadn’t listened too much yet and she didn’t feel like explaining the intricacies to him. Letting out a breath, she closed her eyes again. Mikhail had been the first one to teach her how to manifest that magic. She wouldn’t have thought of such a thing without him. Now thinking of manifesting it a different way didn’t make much sense.

  Instead of pushing it outward, she tried to pull the magic from her fingertips. After a minute, it seemed clear that she was just making herself uncomfortable.

  “Nothing,” she gave.

  “Humor me,” he snapped again. She met his brown eyes with a flattened look.

  “And how am I supposed to do that?”

  He tossed something heavy at her. She caught it j
ust as it made impact with her collarbone. She held a smooth paperweight in her hands. Carved out of something like ivory and filled with something heavier than iron, it was shaped to be winged maiden.

  “Break it,” he said. “Don’t gawk, break it.”

  Not gawking was easier said than done. Feeling the sunlight through the window grow hotter as it grew brighter, she became aware of the minutes that ticked by. Her stomach churned with emptiness, and lightheadedness threatened to follow. It drove her to obediently press the piece into her hands. She squeezed until the edges dug into her skin and focused for whatever bits of magic she could.

  “Does it usually do that?”

  “What?” Avery hadn’t let it go. The piece still remained hard and intact in her palm.

  “Ugh. Release it.”

  He caught it as soon as she opened her fingers and the ivory fell out. She hadn’t realized it before but the surface of the maiden had been covered with something sheer and shiny with bits of frost.

  “It’s cold. It’s freezing. Do you do things like this often?”

  “No…no I make them hot. It’s just…” She trailed off when she couldn’t explain it. The doctor didn’t wait for an answer. He shot to a stand and let himself out with nothing more than a half witted goodbye. She collapsed backwards once she heard the tap of his uneven footsteps disappear outside.

  Fifteen

  Mason was waiting for her when she opened the door as eight o’ clock rolled around. Even though she’d prepped herself for the moment, she couldn’t help the blush that covered her face anyways. Mason was there in his formal white-and-gold attire with his brown locks carefully combed into submission. It was when his green eyes landed on her that his face really changed.

  “I think this is the part that you ask me out,” she blurted having to say something. His eyes wisped up and down her figure.

  Avery tried not to fidget. She’d already corrected the ball gown well over a hundred times and knew Evelyn had chosen it well. Although Evelyn hadn’t shown up to help Avery into it. After their last encounter, the woman hadn’t made a reappearance. Avery didn’t dwindle for a second, focused wholly on stepping carefully in the gown. A darkened royal blue, it tied around her neck and raced to her ankles. It was far from anything he’d seen her wear before—hell, it was something Avery never had worn before.

  Her heart restored in her chest when Mason spoke and met her eyes again.

  “It takes the effect away if everyone already told you it was coming.” He couldn’t put the cockiness into his words.

  “Well, I kinda figured with the ball gown and everything. Not that I asked to ruin the surprise,” she pointed out in a sputter and let her chin drop to her chest. Taking a breath, she tried to reorient herself. They were standing still like two awkward teenagers. Mason must have thought the same thing as he finally stuck an arm out.

  “Then dear Avery, I ask that you join me at the ball tonight.” He said, managing to pull it off with practiced ease. She slid her arm into his and took careful steps in the heels. They managed a slow pace down the hallway that was lined by servants and guards. She didn’t look around much, too focused on keeping everything together.

  “Is there actually going to be dancing? Like human dancing?” she asked instead.

  He laughed.

  “Your expectations of my kind never stops being entertaining. There is dancing. There is socializing. There will be all the royals and officials.”

  “Mmm…getting the big official introductions I see,” she said with more confidence than she actually had. She started to sweat underneath the thick makeup. Mason slowed and squeezed her arm.

  “It won’t be bad. Trust me, if you nod and smile they’ll be pleasant back. Are you ready?”

  They had arrived at two massive wooden doors before she realized. Avery wasn’t ready. She definitely wasn’t. She’d had times to picture this scenario—probably should have pictured it when she knew Mason was becoming Prince, but she just hadn’t. And now she’d found herself standing arm in arm before the most stereotypical princess scene of all time. She didn’t have more than a few seconds for her stomach to flip backwards. Mason squeezed her arms and the doors swung open. The brilliant light blinded her and she took her first step led by Mason’s guiding hands only. She blinked her burning eyes until the room came into clear focus but that did nothing but make her heart drop again. They stood at the top of a short, winding staircase. Lining the bottom of the stairs was a number of harpies who stared upward. Most were dressed up but some held cameras and resembled classic reporters. When a harpie that joined them at the top of the stairs to raise his voice to announce their arrival, Avery was about ready to bolt.

  “Come on.” Mason gave her a light tug and they descended the stairs. The prying eyes hadn’t lain off of them—rather harpies crowded closer.

  “Prince Mason, who is your friend?” women were actually cooing. They were chirping in nearly incoherent voices, clamoring over each other to catch another glimpse. In it all, they managed to keep two feet of distance away at all times.

  Mason greeted everyone but Avery couldn’t hear anything he said. She could only hear her heart pounding in her ears. It seemed like an eternity before he maneuvered them away and the crowd dispersed.

  “Fun,” Avery said.

  “They like you, Avery.” Mason leaned down to whisper. He spoke some truth. There were smiles about. People were laughing. No one pointed.

  “Cool. Um….maybe they have something to drink?” She fanned her throat for emphasis. Mason guided her to a table and left to retrieve one. Old fashioned apparently, even for a prince. Only after a moment of sitting did she notice the other people at the table.

  “Human,” the first one snapped and leaned forward. An oddly angled face had been caked with an overabundance of makeup. Her sharp teeth still showed. “Tell me about yourself,” the second question came.

  “Um…”

  The woman’s hand snaked out and snatched Avery’s knee. Though coated with the bottom of her skirt, the woman’s nails still threatened to dig in. The sharp pain stung persistently.

  “How did you do it? How did you snag a date with the Prince? Who are you related to?”

  Avery jerked her knee back, but the woman didn’t let go. Instincts put Avery on edge. She wanted to push back and break the pain, but doing so would make a scene.

  “Let me go!”

  “Just tell me. Tell me,” the woman kept demanding, louder each time.

  Avery shifted, ready to shoot up from her seat, and thrust the woman away. She didn’t have the chance.

  “Release her now,” a saving voice came, and the attacking woman obeyed, but that savior wasn’t Mason. When the obnoxious woman had gone, a much older woman had taken her place.

  “Don’t allow the press to bother you,” the woman spoke with an old southern drawl. “They are vultures really. Surpassing their rightful bounds.”

  “Oh. Thank you.” For a minute there, Avery had honestly thought the attacker was the one of the unwed daughters. The relief she felt was immeasurable. The old woman didn’t sit for long however.

  “Prince Mason.” She jumped from her seat and bowed. Avery followed her attention and lit up. Happy to see him, she sprung from the seat and bid the others a hasty farewell. She might have said it was nice to meet them or see you later. But her words had jumbled, and her mind didn’t pick up on exactly what went down.

  “Calm down.” Mason must have been noticing it when he handed her the drink. She took a swig, unaware what the black liquid in the cup actually was, and she barely tasted the drink anyways.

  “If this has alcohol in this, I think I might.” Avery still managed a smile. Where was Nate when she needed him?

  Mason’s eyebrow arched, but he said nothing. The crowd was mercilessly staying away from them now and even with such a massive crowded room, the acoustics weren’t defining. Isolated, Avery did gather her nerves.

  “A lot to take in. And fo
r a minute there, I forgot how much harpies like to...debate,” she finally said. “Are you going to give me the four-one-one on everything?”

  Mason slipped an arm around her back and guided her to look out into the crowd with him.

  “These dances are almost wholly used for networking. But they have different titles, purposes. It’s so people really can see the Prince. The other royals anyways. I have to reassure them I’m still going to be open to their opinions. Promise them I am leading our world in the right direction.