The Avowed (Shadowed Wings Book 2)

by Ivy Asher

  “I’m just putting her to sleep. It’ll be easier to get her, and us, back to Kestrel in one piece if she’s out,” Ryn offers, and I put everything I’ve got into one last effort to break his hold.

  I can’t be taken to Kestrel City. I need to get out of here and back home! I reach up with one hand to try and gouge out an eyeball, but I can’t find his eyes. I reach back with my other arm and search for the dagger I stabbed him with. I almost get my fingers around it when a large hand grabs mine. Blue eyes fill my darkening vision, and I can feel tears dripping down my cheeks.

  “It’s okay, flower. Just rest. No one is going to hurt you,” he reassures me, his eyes soft and his tone gentle.

  I glare at him and mentally cuss him out. No one is going to hurt me? Fuck him. Tell that to the arm around my neck that’s slowly choking me out. My body gives one last jerking protest, and then everything starts to go black.

  Motherfucker.

  “Awlon, is this really the only way?” my mother asks, her voice and eyes filled with devastation.

  I’m groggy as I try to look around. What is happening? I’m so tired. The room is cloaked in night, and I can’t figure out why my parents are waking me up.

  “I wish it weren’t the way either, Noor, but it has to be done. They give her away, and we can’t afford that.” Dad runs his hands through his black hair. His face is strained, and he looks completely stricken. “I can’t understand how she has them. They don’t normally show up this early. I thought we’d have until puberty, but we don’t,” he declares, his tone haunted.

  “Can’t we just keep them covered?” mom asks.

  “Long sleeves aren’t going to hide them forever, Noor. Her eyes and hair are already an issue, and we haven’t been able to track down another cladding stone. What would you have me do, Noor? Tell me another way, and I’ll do it.”

  My dad’s voice is desperate as he pleads with my mother, and I can just make out through the haze that’s coating my brain that my mom and dad are hugging. I try to move, but I’m stiff and clammy. All I can remember is hurting and then waking up to my parents fighting. I whimper, and my mother shushes me and rests her palm on my forehead.

  “It’s okay, Falon, we’re here. It’ll all be over soon,” she reassures me, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. “Just do it, Awlon, before she comes to even more. I just hope she forgives us one day.”

  My mom is crying, but I can’t grasp anything that’s happening around me. It’s like I’m surrounded by wispy thoughts and people, and I can’t hold on to anyone or anything long enough to help me understand.

  “Mommy,” I mumble, scared, and she pulls me into her lap and begins to rock me.

  She starts to sing my favorite bedtime song, and her clear soothing voice instantly calms me. I relax into her arms, the beat of her heart against my ear and her song lulling me back to sleep. And then there’s pain. So much pain. Pain and screaming and then...blackness.

  I shake my head to clear it of the overwhelming phantom pain. My heart hammers in my chest as I struggle to pull oxygen into my lungs. I try to focus on the dream-memories, to try and understand what they mean, but the details start to slip through my fingers like warm desert sand.

  What the fuck was that?

  I press back against cool smooth stone. I lift my head and survey my surroundings. I’m shrouded in shadows in the corner of what used to be my room in the cliff castle.

  How the hell did I get here?

  My lavender gaze runs over the lines of Zeph’s massive muscled body. He’s sitting on the corner of the large bed, bent over something in his hands.

  Shit. Did Ryn bring me here? Is Zeph going to make good on his promise to kill me if he ever sees me again?

  I hold my breath, not sure what to do or say. Zeph silently strokes the fabric he holds in his hands with his thumbs, and I realize after staring at him for a moment that he’s holding the dress I wore the night we hooked up. It’s torn and tattered—which is to be expected after what happened that night—but I’m taken aback by the fabric’s presence and the reverent touch that Zeph is administering to it. I haven’t given any thought to where that dress went, and I can’t understand why Zeph would have it.

  It’s almost like he’s mourning, and that makes no fucking sense to me.

  I jump, startled, when Zeph releases an angry roar. The peace in the room is shattered by the terrible sound, and Zeph shreds the soft fabric in his hands and throws it across the room. He rises off the bed and then turns and upends it. The frame and mattress crash against the pillars that separate the room from the balcony, and the wood of the bed splinters and goes flying.

  He roars again, like the sound alone will purge whatever it is that’s haunting him, and rips the headboard apart like it’s made of popsicle sticks. I watch the tantrum from the corner, baffled by what could have set it off. I’m simultaneously judging this display of pain and anger while feeling drawn to comfort him and make it stop. He shreds the soft yellow case on the pillow and then throws it. The pillow hits the wall a foot from my head, and I jump again.

  The movement has Zeph’s eyes snapping to mine in the corner. He breathes hard from the epic shit fit he’s in the middle of throwing, and his honey-hued gaze takes me in warily. I don’t move or speak. We both just stand there like statues.

  “Are you here?” he asks me, disbelief bleeding through his tone.

  He takes a step toward me and then pauses as if he’s suddenly unsure. I open my mouth to say something when I feel a sharp tug in my abdomen. I gasp at the unusual sensation and look down, expecting a hook or something to be sticking out of me. There’s nothing there. I place my hands on my stomach as another strange tug pulls at my insides. It’s not painful so much as uncomfortable, but I have no idea what the hell is going on.

  I look up, my worried wide eyes landing back on Zeph’s uncertain golden stare. And then just like that, I’m yanked out of the room, like a fish on a hook, by some unseen force.

  I wake up, the sound of Zeph screaming my name still ringing in my ears. I slowly blink away the grogginess and roll from my side to my back. The clanking of chains echoes off the dark stone walls, and I look down to see that my feet are shackled. I release a groan and try to take in my dimly lit surroundings.

  Shit.

  I’m pretty sure I’m in some kind of dungeon.

  “About time you stopped frolicking in your dreams and came back to the real world.”

  I yelp at the unexpected voice in the cell with me and turn to find Ryn leaning casually in a dark corner. It takes me a moment to wake all the way up and absorb where I most likely am, and then another beat to recall why. I fix Ryn with a look that promises pain and then leap for him.

  “You fucking prick! I’m going to kill you!”

  2

  I surge up from the ground like some demonic frog, hell-bent on strangling Ryn with the smug look on his face and my bare hands. I don’t get very far. The chains I momentarily forgot were around my ankles put a quick stop to my vengeance-filled trajectory. I’m snapped back like a dog on a leash by the unwelcome tether, and I face plant on the cold stone of the cell’s floor, with a very pitiful sounding oomph.

  “Rutting Cynas, Falon, what do you think you’re doing?” Ryn asks me as he scoops me up in his arms and sets me back down on a stone ledge that I’m pretty sure is supposed to serve as a bed.

  “Trying to kill you; what does it look like I’m doing?” I ask incredulously, as I push out of his hold and rub at the bruises I know are forming on my shoulders from the graceful swan dive into stone I just executed.

  Fucking chains.

  “Where exactly am I?” I demand as I bat Ryn’s hand away when he reaches for me. I give him a clear warning-filled look and scoot as far away from him as possible.

  He looks hurt by that, but fuck him.

  “You’re in Kestrel City. You’ll be brought in front of the Syta as soon as your guard returns from taking a shit and realizes that you’re awa
ke.”

  “Syta as in Zeph?” I ask him as I rub at my ankles and the tender skin being rubbed away by the chains attached there. I realize that, at some point between being choked out by Ryn and arriving at this place, someone put a long shirt on me. It smells like Ryn, and I’m tempted to rip it off and throw it at him.

  “No, you’ll be meeting, Lazza, the Syta of the Avowed,” Ryn explains, his gray eyes looking over me in search of something.

  “What the fuck are you doing here, Ryn?” I demand, standing up and trying to tamp down the shiver working its way up my spine from the cold of the stone bench.

  “I could ask you the same thing, Falon. Last I checked, you vowed to stay in the Eyrie until I returned,” Ryn snaps back, the concern dimming in his eyes as it’s replaced with anger.

  “Fuck off, Ryn, you shot me out of the sky and then put me in a fucking choke hold until I blacked out. If anyone has a right to be pissed here, it’s not you,” I growl at him.

  Ryn shushes me and then looks over his shoulder. We both go quiet as he listens for something before turning back to me.

  “Do you think I enjoyed finding you naked in the middle of an Avowed hunting party? Falon, you attacked the worst possible target you could have attacked. I had to think fast. You’re lucky to even be alive,” he snarls back at me.

  “Ryn! What the fuck are you doing here? Aren’t these people the enemy? Does Zeph know?” I whisper-screech at him.

  He rushes forward and presses me back against the wall, his hand over my mouth. His massive body pins me in place and fury boils through me.

  “Falon, I know you’re mad, but you have to be quiet. I can’t get caught down here, and no one can know that we know each other. Your life—and mine—depends on it. Do you understand?” he angry-whispers in my ear.

  He pulls back and studies me, waiting for me to concede or acknowledge his warning.

  I just stare at him, my gaze furious. Ryn huffs out a resigned breath and leans his forehead against mine. I really fucking hate that his mere presence still soothes me after everything that’s happened. What’s worse is that Pigeon is still down for the count, so I can’t even blame the warm and fuzzies on her.

  “Zeph knows I’m here, Falon. I would never betray him. I’ve been spying for the Hidden for a long time,” Ryn confides.

  I let his words sink in. I wish somehow this information made me feel better, but it doesn’t. He removes his hand from my mouth, the action a clear indication that he thinks it’s my turn to start explaining, and looks at me expectantly.

  I debate what to tell him. He just said he would never betray Zeph. Does that mean if Zeph wants me dead, then Ryn is automatically on board with that too? I play back in my mind what happened and try to pick out the safe things to clue Ryn in on. Zeph reacted badly to my whole Oath Breaker news, so I decide to pluck that detail out along with several others.

  “It’s a long story,” I start, “but the short of it is that Zeph told me to leave…and never come back.”

  Ryn’s eyes widen with surprise, and his gray gaze bounces back and forth between my resigned lavender stare. He can see the truth there, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

  “I’m going to kill him,” Ryn declares, and he steps away from me and runs his fingers through his light brown hair in frustration. “Why the rut would he do that?” he asks me, suddenly pacing around the cell like some caged beast.

  A distant clanging interrupts my response, and he freezes. We both listen, although I have no idea what I’m listening for. Ryn steps back into my personal bubble and cups both of my cheeks.

  “I have to go, Falon. When the guard comes back, he’ll check on you, and then you’ll be called up to answer to the Syta. You can’t tell them anything about me or the time you spent with the Hidden. If you do, we’ll both be tortured and killed.”

  His warning and his gaze burn white hot through me.

  “I wasn’t planning on doing that even before you landed on the beach and fucked me up,” I growl quietly. “I’ll stick with the I don’t know how I got here story,” I pause and realize there’s just one big problem with that plan. “Ryn, do they have anyone like Ami here? Anyone who can see that I’m full of shit?” I ask, a new wave of worry coursing through me.

  “They do, but the seer that will be in there today will cover for you,” he answers simply, like it’s just that easy.

  A soft bird-like whistle floats in from the hallway, and Ryn’s head snaps in the direction of the metal door.

  “I have to go, but don’t worry. You’ve intrigued the Altern of the Avowed, and you’ll be fine. Just stick to the story, and I’ll get you out of here soon, okay?”

  Ryn doesn’t wait for me to respond. His lips crash down on mine, sealing his promise, and I can’t help the moan that his mouth coaxes from mine.

  Why do all the assholes here have to be such good fucking kissers?

  He pulls away and slips soundlessly out of the door. I internally facepalm.

  That was unlocked this whole time? What the fuck?

  I reach for the handle and give it a yank. Screw waiting for Ryn to get me out of here, maybe I can be my own knight in Narwagh armor. Of course the fucking door doesn’t budge now. I release it, defeated, and then huff out a long irritated sigh.

  Footsteps sound off in the distance, and I sit back down on the stone bed shelf and wait. I reach inside of myself to try and check on Pigeon, but there’s no indication that there’s anyone else inside this body other than me. I search harder for her presence. Could the fall have hurt her permanently? Is that even possible? I know that Pigeon and I are separate in ways that the other gryphons aren’t, but I have no idea what exactly that means for us. Can she die while I still remain? Can the opposite happen?

  I just barely touch on what feels like a deeply wounded consciousness when the clanging of metal pulls me from my thoughts and internal efforts. I look up to see a small metal panel pull back on the door. Dark eyes peer in at me, and I can see surprise register in them for a split second before the panel is quickly closed and heavy footfall leads away from my cell.

  I swing my feet, not liking the heavy feel of the metal that’s linked around my ankles, and study the walls of my cage. I don’t know what I expect to find—claw marks, rats, some kind of tally situation—but the walls are dark and bare, and the cell clean and cold. I’m not sure how long I wait, but the sound of marching fills my ears, and my adrenaline kicks in and hikes my anxiety up to a whole new unhelpful level.

  The rhythmic sound of heavy footsteps is ominous. I swear it sounds more like the boom of war drums signaling my impending death. I try to control my breathing and to keep from panicking, but I’m not doing so well. I curl up in the corner of the stone bed shelf and try to make myself as little as possible. I hate that I feel this way again, helpless, out of control, scared, but no matter what I do, I just keep finding myself here.

  Sutton’s voice fills my mind, and I try to focus on the things he taught me. I tell myself to focus on what I can control, to be smart about this. I give myself a little pep talk to try and stem the anxiety, but it’s only half working. The door to my cell flies open, and I jump and whimper at the sudden booming sound.

  I really need to stop being so fucking jumpy all of the time, it’s not helping my rep.

  Large armored guards file into the small space, and suddenly I don’t want to feel as small as possible; I want to be as big as Zeph and rip them all apart.

  “You have been called to appear before the Syta. Rise, and you will be escorted there in peace. Refuse, and...well, you will be taken there anyway,” a guard informs me.

  I snort, unable to help it. The dude really needs to work on the climax of his delivery. I unfold myself on the bench bed and stand up. The guard gives me an approving nod and kneels to remove the shackles from my feet. He tuts when he sees the abrasions on my ankles. I don’t say anything. I’m pretty sure I did that to myself when I went for Ryn, but if he wants to feel bad for me,
I’m perfectly fine with that. He can get in line right behind me, and we’ll drink wine and throw an epic pity party.

  “Follow me,” he instructs, his tone softer, and then he moves out of the cell.

  I’m instantly surrounded by big beefy guards and escorted down a hallway. The dungeon looks like it’s torch lit, but when I get close, I can see that what I thought was fire is just a strange moving light. Whatever it is, the flickering of the non-flames still causes the shadows to play tricks on my eyes.

  It’s surprisingly quiet down here. There’s no tortured screams or begging from other prisoners for help. I don’t even spot another person. It’s like I have my own private wing of the dungeon. There’s no moaning or groaning like I’d expect. There’s just the sound of the guards’ heavy boots on the stone floor as we wind our way through the eerie quiet.

  Eventually a staircase appears, and I’m led up several flights. I’m starting to seriously rethink my need for cardio when we stop climbing and instead branch off down a wide hallway. We stop at a gargantuan heavy-looking door, and the lead guard proceeds to do some kind of secret knock. The metal squeals in protest as it opens, and I’m ripped from the dimly lit dungeon and forced into the light.

  I shrink back, blinded by the overwhelming and painful brightness. I try to stop and shield my eyes, but the guards push me to keep moving. I blink rapidly in an effort to adjust, but my eyes well up from the illumination’s assault.

  “Keep walking,” a guard demands, like his shoving me around isn’t enough and he feels the need to add useless narration.

  I’m body checked again from the side when I stumble, and I bite back the nasty words I want to let loose. I want to snap at them to hold their fucking horses for a second until I’m no longer blind, but aside from the guy who took off my chains, I don’t get the impression that any of them have much of a compassionate side. I bite my tongue, but I can’t quite swallow down the growl that bubbles up my throat. The lead guard looks back at me, seemingly amused by the sound, which of course just makes me growl even more.