Two ravens were still on the table, Wren noticed now, and they began to chant four words, over and over, louder and louder, until Wren cried out and covered her ears against the awful uproar of chaos.
*
The ravens’ words were still echoing in Wren’s mind when she woke in the morning, and it was almost as though she could still hear them in the large, sunlit bedroom.
You’ll have to choose.
Wren knew which side she would choose, if it came down to it. She couldn’t trust a single Winged Blue, not after she’d learned of their deception. So, after wiping the sleep out of her eyes along with the last vestiges of her dream, she climbed out of bed.
She changed into the red, scoop-necked robe that had apparently been placed in a chair by her bed while she slept. It was more tightly fitted than the Blue’s robes had been, a fact that Wren didn’t think came from a nationwide shortage of material. It still fit her okay, although she didn’t feel entirely comfortable wearing something that hugged her curves so closely. But a glance in the room’s large mirror told her that she didn’t actually look all that bad in the robe, its tailoring seeming custom-made for her more ample figure. She almost looked good in it, actually.
Wren left her bedroom and found her way back to the hall where she’d first arrived in Kremsin. When she reached it, she saw that Ember and Passea were already seated at the table. On its surface were a few artfully arranged platters of food, including herb-flecked mini-quiches. Beside them sat a platter almost brimming over with cubed, red-skinned potatoes covered in some sort of creamy, white sauce, and what looked and smelled like coffee filled two narrow glass pitchers. Ember’s appreciative stare when Wren entered the room told her she might possibly look more than merely okay in her robe. A wink followed Ember’s skimming of Wren’s body, and she felt herself begin to blush.
“Good morning, Wren. I hope you slept well?” Passea looked better rested than Wren felt, her face glowing and her smile cheery.
“Mostly.” Wren pulled out a chair and sat down, making sure her first move was to pour herself a large mug of liquid from one of the pitchers. Yes, thankfully, it was coffee they contained. Delightfully strong coffee, and also some of the best she’d ever had.
As she ate her meal, the two other women ate mostly in silence. Wren echoed their quietness. She wasn’t quite ready to start sharing things like her dream with Passea and Ember, even if the dream was somewhat more than just a dream. Wren was pretty sure that it was, but instead of telling her two tablemates about it, she just complimented the breakfast and waited as patiently as she could for Passea to tell her the whole truth. She could barely handle the suspense, so when Passea put down her napkin, her breakfast plate now empty, Wren directed all of her attention to her birth mother’s spot at the table, awaiting what she hoped would be the entire story of the Winged Red’s side of things.
“I suppose you’d like me to tell you everything now, then?” Passea asked.
“Absolutely. I mean, yes, please, if you don’t mind.” Wren quickly put down the big forkful of potato she’d been about to shovel into her mouth. Eating the last of her delicious meal could wait.
“Later today, Ember is going to take you to our Seer, Myuss, who will be able to fill you in far better than I possibly could, I promise. She’s quite knowledgeable in ‘everything Wren.’ But first, I have a gift for you.”
Wren had failed to notice the sizeable black box at her mom’s side of the table, which Passea was now gently pushing in her direction. “Go ahead, open it,” she told Wren, sounding rather excited, and so Wren took the box and removed its long, rectangular lid, placing it on the floor. Contained within the box were a bow and a quiver, the quiver embroidered with red ravens and a face on each side of it that resembled hers. Beneath the quiver was a bow, even more beautiful that the one her father had given her, this one ruby red and slightly transparent, almost as if it had actually been carved from a single, enormous ruby. The bowstring was red as well, and Wren pulled it back just a bit, taking note of its heft and texture for future reference.
“I can’t wait to use it, Passea! Will I be doing some target practice today?” she asked her birth mom, who nodded.
“Once you’re done eating, Ember will lead you to our practice field, and you can spend as much or as little time there as you want. Your invitation to Myuss’s is for any time today that you choose. Although, if you’d like, we can get there in time for lunch. She has a fantastic meal planned for you, should you be there in time.”
“Lunch at her house sounds great.” Wren ate her last bite of food, followed it with the last of her coffee, and rose from the table. “Now, where’s your practice area?”
Ember led her out to a field quite similar to the one in Azyr. Wren was more than ready to show off and, if she were lucky, to impress Ember as well. But not a single arrow met the target, not even when she tried picturing the two of them, even though it had always worked in the past.
“You’ll get better with time, I promise,” Ember told her, and kissed her on the cheek.
Wren wanted to tell her how she already was better, that she was great, to be completely honest, but there was clearly no proof of it in her botched attempts to hit the mark. “Should we go to Myuss’s now, I guess?” she said, unable to stop herself from sighing quietly at the end of her sentence.
Either Ember didn’t notice Wren’s disappointment or she didn’t want Wren to know she’d noticed, because she grinned at Wren and said, “That sounds great. We can get there through our marketplace, where I’ll buy you a terrific new robe, if you’d like. Or a dozen of them!” Ember laughed and grabbed Wren’s hands, twirling her around in a circle. Wren squealed, and despite the unsteadiness she felt when they stopped spinning, she didn’t regret a second of it.
They told Passea they were off, and she wished them a good day, after informing them that she had much to accomplish in preparing for the Blue’s arrival, so she wouldn’t be able to join them. Wren was still shell-shocked from the sudden twist in her reality, and she realized then that she hadn’t quite accepted the evil of the Winged Blue, not fully, even though it was obviously the truth.
Ember led her through a large, crowded marketplace full of Winged Red, all of them bustling about and shopping. Most of the Winged Red seemed happy enough, but some of their haggling seemed to show some displeasure at how those particular Winged were doing in their deal-making. The two of them reached a stand full of robes, each one fancier than the last, and Ember helped her to pick out three, all varying shades of red. The stout female shopkeeper told them she would send them to Passea’s later, all of it free of charge. “Anything for our wonderful leader,” the shopkeeper told them with a slight bow of her head.
As they were reaching the last of the stalls at the far edge of the market, Ember put out a hand to stop Wren and turned to face her. “Why don’t you let out your wings?” she suggested, and Wren decided she might as well, even though she was uncertain what the Winged Red would think of her not-red wings. She let them out of her back, and then, reflected in the window that stood behind Ember, she saw something surprising: her blue wings were almost half-red, with their central line of feathers slowly fading from red to blue.
“They didn’t used to look like that,” she told Ember, turning left and right to get a better view of her now-multi-colored wings.
“I think they’re quite becoming, Wren. Much better than only blue, of course, and I do prefer the red. Maybe if you’re lucky, they’ll change all the way to red before the Winged Blue arrive. That way you can state with your wings alone whose side you’re on.”
“Yours, of course,” Wren told her. She didn’t need her wings to be fully red in order to let everyone know who she thought was to be trusted. She just hoped that none of the Winged Red would be bothered by the fact that they were bi-colored. Kind of like her biracialism, which had definitely caused problems for her back on Earth. She wondered if the Winged Red would be more forgiving than th
ose jerks in her hometown, and she mentally crossed her fingers as Ember took her hand and led her the rest of the way out of the market. She took one last glance at her new, different wings and decided that even if her gorgeous romantic interest wasn’t totally happy with them, she was. At least for the time being.
She had to know the truth about something, though, something she was surprised that neither Passea nor Ember had told her. “How was Passea able to hide the fact from my father that she wasn’t Winged Blue for all those years?”
“Ah, that would have to do with her special power. You see, Passea is able to disguise herself, any part of herself, as either a Winged Red or a Winged Blue. She was even able to hide her power from Piru. Pretty impressive, if you ask me, as he’s not entirely hopeless when it comes to seeing into people’s heads. Does that explain it well enough to you?”
“Yes, I think it does.” It was a believable explanation for Wren’s multicolored wings, for one thing. Would she gain her birth mother’s power, then? Being reminded that Passea was her birth mother made Wren remember the woman she’d thought was her mom all those years, for the first time since she’d arrived in Kremsin. She felt rather worried about leaving Denise behind. Before she could ask Ember about how they could make sure her stepmom was safe, her new friend let out her own wings and told Wren to follow her, as Myuss’s house was still a few miles away. “Bet you your new wings will work better than the old ones,” she called over her shoulder with a smirk, and then she took off.
Wren quickly discovered that she could barely keep up. Nope, her new wings weren’t any more functional than her old ones. She finally managed to catch up to Ember just as they reached a forest slightly beyond town, with a two-story, black-and-bloodred cabin sitting a few hundred feet away from where the trees started. A large, circular swimming pool sat to its left, filled with bright-blue water, the first blue Wren had seen since she’d arrived in Kremsin. She figured a pool full of red water would be kind of creepy, so it made sense that the water was left its natural color, even if it looked rather out of place here. The cabin and its surrounding grass-covered grounds were spotted with dots of red, dots that turned out to be ravens as Wren drew closer. A few of the birds cried out greetings to her as they flew closer. “Welcome, Wren!” one after another yelled as she and Ember flew closer to the building.
“This is it!” Ember yelled to Wren, and she began to descend toward the ground at a rapid pace. Wren followed her down, landing a few feet away from Ember. She could now see a middle-aged woman waiting for them outside. She wore the shortest robe Wren had seen here, with bell-shaped sleeves and lace around its V-neckline. Her hair was the same colors as the house, and it curled and tumbled down her shoulders and back. Wren found her surprisingly attractive, since she must have been at least thirty years Wren’s senior.
“Hello, Ember,” the woman said in a husky voice. “And you’re Wren—I recognize you from my visions. You’re just in time for an early lunch. I had it catered by one of Kremsin’s best restaurants. I hope you like what’s served, but if you don’t, I can have them deliver something else right away.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, whatever you’re serving. I’m not picky,” Wren told her.
“You’re allowed to be picky here in Kremsin, Wren. You are our honored guest, after all. Now, please, come in, and I will begin your meal with some high-quality, ice-cold hard cider. It’s one of Kremsin’s specialties.”
Inside the cabin, both the colors of its outer walls and Myuss’s hair were echoed in the decor, everything either black or the intense, saturated red of the Seer’s curls. The room contained two antique-looking sofas, with richly black wood used for their arms and feet, and a black-and-red lacquered table sat between them. In the corner of the room lay something tall and rectangular covered by a dark-black cloth. As Wren looked at it for a bit longer, she thought she might have detected something blue through the cloth’s ripples and folds.
Before she could get a closer look, Myuss spoke, interrupting her curiosity about what was hidden behind the fabric. “Please have a seat, Wren, and as I said, I can send everything back if you aren’t happy with it.”
Wren didn’t plan to send anything back, even if it was disgusting. After all, based on the amount of food and the elegance of what each white porcelain platter held, she knew at once that the chefs had gone to a great amount of effort to prepare everything she saw.
She sat down on one of the sofas, her eyes settling on a pint glass that held a golden, fizzing liquid. That must have been the hard cider. Wren didn’t know how she felt about drinking something alcoholic, especially after the problems her mom had experienced with the stuff. But she didn’t want to be rude, so she limited herself to a few small sips of what the glass held and tried to ignore how thirsty all the food was making her. Lunch consisted of many different canapés and miniature treats, which included small burgers with some sort of sharp, smoky cheese melted over the meat, and salmon, dill cream cheese, and caviar-covered circles of flatbread. Everything was wonderful, if a bit too salty, at least without any water. But it was all so good that Wren had trouble stopping, and she felt positively stuffed by the time she quit eating.
The two women had kept her busy talking, with questions about Azyr and the Blue. Myuss had told her that her visions only revealed so much. After everyone was done with their food, Myuss rose and walked to the far end of the couch Wren was sitting on. Once there, she picked up an ancient-looking, red-leather-bound book that rested on the far end of the couch. She carried it over to Wren and placed in it her lap. “Go ahead, open it. You’ll find everything you want to know inside its covers. I bet the Blue’s Seer didn’t let you see their book of prophecy, did he?”
“No, not even once.” Wren was more than a little miffed at this realization, but it was obvious why Piru hadn’t shown her, now that she knew that the Blue had been plotting against her all along.
“Well, Wren, sweetie, why don’t you go ahead and take a look?” Myuss gestured at the book, and she almost appeared as though she could have been feeling impatient as she stared pointedly in Wren’s direction.
With the pressure of Myuss’s gentle nudging pushing her into action, Wren lifted the book’s cover and opened it to its first page, revealing words written in a beautiful, curling script. She couldn’t tell what they said, though, because before she could begin to read, the words began to move, swirling around the page, faster and faster. Then one of them started to tumble toward her hand, just where her fingers met the page, and it began to travel onto her skin, not stopping until it had shot up her arm. It was followed by a second word, then another, and Wren practically dropped the book, letting go of the cover and its pages as fast as she could. But the words still found their way onto her body, and then the pages in the book began to turn, speeding up more and more until it appeared as if every page in the book was now blank.
Wren looked down at her arms, then pushed up her sleeves, but somehow all the words seemed to have faded away, her skin back to its usual pale brown. The two women looked just as shocked as Wren was, if not more so, and Myuss cleared her throat before saying, “Any chance you can return those words to the book, dear? I don’t exactly have them memorized, so it would be really great if you could.”
“I…I don’t even know how they managed to leave the book in the first place. I didn’t do anything to get them to do that, Myuss. I swear.” Wren noticed then that her arms had started shaking slightly, and Myuss seemed to notice too; she reached toward Wren and began to rub slow, calming circles in the center of her back.
“I believe you, Wren, but if you can manage to return them to the book, it would be most appreciated. Maybe you could think it over during the next few days? For me? For the Winged Red?” Myuss’s voice held more concern than her facial expression let on, and Wren couldn’t blame her. She hadn’t meant to remove the words from the book, and she felt rather alarmed that she didn’t know how to put them back, either. She just had to ho
pe that the Winged Red could win the upcoming battle without their prophecy’s help.
“I promise I’ll make sure Wren tries her hardest to figure out a way to return the words to the book, Myuss,” Ember said, and Wren thought she noticed Ember’s face harden a little with those words. But she must have imagined it, because when Ember turned back in Wren’s direction, she showed no sign of anything but joy to be spending time with Wren. “And on that note, I think we should head out now. I have a great place in mind for us for dessert, as one of our best bakeries is nearby,” Ember told her, rising from the sofa in her usual graceful manner.
Wren wished she could move with such elegance, but she doubted she’d ever be able to glide through the world so sensually. She simply had to believe that Ember was happy with her just the way she was. Which had seemed to be the case so far. Except, perhaps, for the part of her wings that were made up of the wrong color of feathers. Could Ember ever fully accept Wren’s blue feathers?
Wren said good-bye and thanked Myuss, then followed Ember out the door. She hoped the bakery’s pastries would be tasty enough to take her mind off her wings and their lower, imperfect, still-blue half.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Believing in Blue Page 18