by Everly Frost
“You really intended to keep fighting until dawn.”
“As long as Nathaniel was alive at dawn, he would remain Cyrian’s champion,” Hagan says. “Then I could walk away knowing Christiana was safe.”
I search Hagan’s face, wondering how much of his story I can take as truth. Sudden pain overwhelms me. My voice holds my accusation. “You may claim your motives weren’t malicious, but when Nathaniel was dying, you chose to finish it.”
Hagan’s jaw clenches. “I pushed him out of the wolf’s path. Everyone saw me do it. If we’d kept fighting, I could have made it look like I’d done it to protect myself. Once Nathaniel fell, I had no choice but to follow through.”
I shake my head in disagreement. “But—”
“No!” he bellows. He leans forward, his eyebrows drawn down. “If Nathaniel bled out slowly until after dawn and then died, your queen would rule Fell country by default. Cyrian may be brutal, but he needs us. Your queen will eradicate the human race as soon as she has the chance.”
I can’t control my rage. “I would have saved him!”
Hagan jolts back as far as he can without upsetting his seat on Treble’s back, surprise flooding his expression at my vehemence.
He starts to speak, but I shout him down. “The minute dawn arrived—the first instant that I thought I could use my power—I would have saved Nathaniel. The same way I did just now. He was never going to die. He will not die!”
I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm my emotions. Starlight leaks through my armor again and I can’t afford to lose any more of it.
Hagan is equally angry as he glares back at me. “Why would I believe you?”
We’re right back to where we started. He’s demanding to know why I want to save Nathaniel when I’m supposed to kill him—when Nathaniel’s life means my death. It’s the most important question I’ll ever need to answer and it’s being asked of me by a man who, for all intents and purposes, is one of my most dangerous enemies.
“Because I don’t belong to Imatra,” I whisper.
Yesterday, Nathaniel gave me the message that his dying father asked him to deliver to me. He promised his father he would find me—the girl with hair the color of bone—and tell me I didn’t belong to the fae.
I didn’t understand it yesterday—still don’t understand it—but since then, I’ve seen how the humans live. I’ve seen their country, their hollow eyes, and felt Nathaniel’s determination to free them, his unbending certainty about his path.
My loyalties can’t belong to the fae anymore—or even to the humans. I have to be loyal to myself.
I have to be true to the only outcome that can possibly bring peace to both Bright and Fell: Nathaniel has to rule.
Hagan leans forward again, but this time, he moves slowly and carefully, his head tilted, his lips pursed in a questioning line. “What did you say?”
I raise my voice so he can hear me over the wind. “I don’t belong to them! I betrayed my queen when I crossed the border. If it weren’t for the Law of Champions, she would have hunted me down and killed me, the same way Cyrian wishes he could kill Nathaniel. Neither of us is fighting for our monarchs. We’re fighting…”
Pressing my lips together, I squeeze my eyes shut, desperate to stop giving away so much of my heart to this hunter. “I’m fighting for Nathaniel. That’s my only purpose now.” I grit my teeth. “As long as you believe that, then you don’t need to know anything else about me.”
Hagan leans back, a deep crease forming on his forehead. “You can’t expect me to believe that you’ll welcome your own death—”
“Yes,” I say, cutting him short. “That’s exactly what you need to believe.”
Before he can object, Treble rises above the haze, breaking through it into the clear sky beyond. The sun’s rays are soft with the new day’s light, the air crisp and clean.
Hagan throws an arm across his eyes with a pained shout. “Fuck, that’s bright!”
Sunlight has never been my friend, but even so, I welcome the clean air and the sense of space. The land below the haze in Fell feels so closed in.
Assuming Hagan lived his whole life beneath the vapor, he may have never seen or felt the full effect of the sun before. He squints, removing his arm a little. His eyes grow wide before he shuts them again.
His question is gruff. “Is that what the sky looks like?”
Around us, the soft azure blue air extends as far as we can see in every direction. It’s a beautiful, clear day. Only a few pristine clouds float higher above us.
“You’ve never seen the sky before?” I ask.
From what I’ve seen of Fell country so far, he would have had to step right up to the border to see clear sky. That would have been suicide, given the Border Guards’ ferocity. My brother, Evander, is never cruel, but he’s always vigilant about cutting down any Fell creature—any human—who steps out of the Misty Gallows.
Hagan’s response is a growled curse. I guess his pride is hurting now that he’s weakened by the light around us.
“I’ve never traveled farther north than the Misty Gallows,” he says. “I’ve heard that there is clear sky above the Spire. Along the southern coast, too, but I’ve never been to either of those places. Is it always this bright?”
My voice softens. “When you’re ready, take a look. It’s worth seeing. If you look hard enough, you might even be able to see some of the stars before the sun dominates the sky. Just don’t look directly at the sun itself.”
I inhale a calming breath, holding tightly to Nathaniel as we fly in silence for the next few minutes. It takes Hagan several tries before he can remove his arm from his eyes and study the sky. His gaze runs carefully from one side to the other, following the edges of the haze that forms a strange sort of misty horizon around us.
His lips part as he inhales more deeply than before, his chest filling before he coughs.
I watch him carefully as he inhales again. His pupils are increasingly small pinpricks in the bright light, abnormally unfocused.
I jolt toward him in alarm when he sways in his seat. “Hagan!”
His only answer is another cough.
The air must be affecting him. When Cyrian was trying to bribe his hunters to volunteer to challenge Nathaniel, he promised them the life of a champion—access to real sunlight, fresh air, and fresh food. Nathaniel spent much of his life above the haze in the castle. He had the chance to adapt to the environments both above and below the vapor, which would have allowed him to adjust much more quickly to Bright’s environment.
Not so for Hagan, who said he’s never seen the sky before. He must have regularly visited the throne room where I first met Cyrian, but while it’s located high enough to allow weak sunlight through, it’s still well within the haze.
“Don’t breathe too deeply,” I warn Hagan sharply. “You’re used to breathing polluted air. You’ll get dizzy—”
His expression turns blank a moment before he tips to the side.
“No!” My right hand darts out to grab his shirt, desperate to keep him upright.
A fall from this height means certain death.
I grapple to support Nathaniel with my left arm while I tug fiercely at Hagan’s shirt. The material is already torn. I nearly rip it off Hagan’s chest as I yank him toward me. His head drops onto Nathaniel’s shoulder with a heavy thud. Hagan’s eyes are closed and his arms are slack, folded up awkwardly against Nathaniel’s chest.
Dark stars! I’m using every muscle in my fatigued body to keep both men on the bird’s back. It would be hard enough with regular-sized men, but both Nathaniel and Hagan are heavy with muscle, taller than average. I can’t sustain my hold on both of them for longer than a minute. Maybe not even that long.
If Hagan falls, he could drag Nathaniel off with him.
“Treble,” I scream, tears of fright falling down my cheeks. “Take us down. Quickly!”
To my relief, Treble has already sensed the disturbance on his bac
k. He angles downward, but not too sharply or Hagan will slip right over his head and take Nathaniel—and me—with him.
Treble plunges through the haze.
My heart lurches into my throat to see the Bitter Patch directly ahead. I need to travel farther west to find Mathilda’s home, but I can’t hold on to Hagan for that long. I have to land, revive Hagan, and then leave him behind so I can proceed on my own. I thought I could ask for his help with moving Nathaniel when we landed, but I’ll have to count on Mathilda’s magic instead…
Just as Treble soars toward the wheat field on the eastern side of the Bitter Patch, a whooshing sound meets my ears and my senses prickle.
Heightened alarm shoots through me a second before a silver projectile whistles past my left side. It glints and gleams, a deadly crossbow bolt. Its path is so accurate that it grazes my thigh. If it weren’t for my armor, it would have sliced through my muscles.
My breath halts before I scream. “Treble! Evade!”
Treble banks left. He’s agile and adept at evasion in the air, but he carries three people on his back, two of whom are unconscious. Sudden movements are incredibly dangerous right now.
A volley of bolts flies around us, dangerously close to cutting us down.
I try to locate their source, dismayed to find they’re coming from the direction of the Bitter Patch. If Nathaniel’s people are shooting at us, it must be because they consider Treble a threat—a thunderbird is a fae weapon. We’re too high for them to see that Nathaniel rides on his back.
But if Christiana came back here after Hagan freed her, then—surely—she should recognize Treble from last night. She knows that Treble is my bird.
Nathaniel warned me that every human would want to tear me apart if they found out who I am. Christiana made it clear last night that she doesn’t trust me. I just hope she has warned Nathaniel’s people that anyone who kills me will also die.
As Treble tilts, banking quickly to the right, I make out the row of human warriors cleverly camouflaged in their beige clothing within the wheat field that stretches across the distance up to the border of the Bitter Patch.
There are at least twenty of them, positioned close to the edge of the crimson and black plants, as hidden as they can be among the stalks of wheat while maintaining their proximity to the protection of the Patch. Nathaniel trained them well. Their aim is sure and true despite Treble’s evasive maneuvers. Another three bolts sail past Treble’s wing, nearly piercing his neck.
My heart thuds a wild beat inside me as I try to find a way through this.
We can’t rise above the haze because I won’t be able to hold on to Hagan that long.
We can’t land, either, because then the trainees will have a clear shot, which they could take before they realize they’re shooting at Nathaniel.
There’s only one way we’ll survive this.
It will only make them hate me more, but I have no choice.
Chapter 4
“Treble!” I scream. “Rise and drop!”
Treble knows the maneuver I’m talking about. He and I have trained in every possible aerial tactic since I chose him to be my thunderbird. With a thunderous crack of his wings, he sweeps us upward for a sharp beat before he abruptly changes direction and drops into a dive.
Gravity shifts around us.
My stomach drops with sickening speed.
For a moment, all three of us catch air, lifting off Treble’s back, suspended in space.
I only have a moment to act while we’re weightless.
My left arm flies out from Nathaniel’s waist, releasing him.
At the same time, I call my power, digging into the far recesses of the vast, empty space inside me to harness its explosive force. Starlight rushes across my chest, hot and angry, screaming through my outstretched arm and into my hand.
It takes me a split second to aim for the empty patch of field just ahead of where we need to land.
A massive bolt of starlight shoots from my fingers, spreading wide like the rays of the sun. It explodes across the ground in front of the humans—far enough away from them that they aren’t hurt. Close enough to make them dive for cover.
I’ve bought us precious seconds to allow us to land, but now I need to regain control of Nathaniel’s and Hagan’s unconscious bodies.
My right hand never released Hagan. I yank him toward me at the same time my left arm wraps around Nathaniel again, clamping tightly and pulling him against me just as gravity kicks back in.
Screaming with effort, I cling to both of them as Treble descends at full speed, a sharp incline.
The drop is too sharp.
Hagan’s weight falls toward Treble’s neck. My hand clamps tighter around his shirt, but the pressure is more than my body can take.
I scream as the muscles in my right arm tear and my shoulder dislocates.
Treble drops to the ground. He digs in his talons, flattening his body, landing as quickly as he can.
As we pull to a stop, my fingers are somehow still gripped around Hagan’s shirt, held shut even though I can’t feel my hand. The jolt as Treble lands causes Hagan to slide all of the way off Treble’s back, Hagan’s weight carrying him so far that the part of his shirt I grip rips in my hands, tearing up to the seam until it finally stops.
In a flash, Treble extends his wing beneath Hagan’s falling body to halt Hagan’s downward trajectory. Hagan ends up with his feet resting against Treble’s neck while his torso lies across Treble’s wing. The problem is that Treble’s feathers are smooth. Only my hold on Hagan’s shirt keeps him from sliding all of the way off. A fall from this distance could break his bones—even his neck.
Nathaniel has slipped in the other direction—toward my left. I’m keeping him upright with my drawn-up leg partially hooked around his hip, my knee bent beside his torso, my boot now planted on Treble’s back.
Treble quickly extends his wing on the left as well, ready in case I need him.
“Cease fire!” I scream at the humans, my chest heaving. “I have Nathaniel.”
The field smolders ahead of us, the scent of burned wheat filling the air as Nathaniel’s people step out from their hiding places, their weapons aimed squarely at us.
Ten of them break away from the others, running toward me. Their crossbows are raised and ready to fire as they drop to the smoldering ground with military precision and take aim. One of them is Esther, her blonde hair flying and her lithe form agile as she runs and takes up an offensive position on my left, nearest to Nathaniel.
“Esther!” I shriek, unable to keep the pain from my voice. “Help Nathaniel.”
Her eyes widen and her crossbow lowers before it jolts back up into position, resuming her steady aim at me.
She shouts back toward the Bitter Patch, “She has Nathaniel!”
I recognize Christiana’s mahogany armor as she darts from the darkness of the Bitter Patch and races toward Treble. She notches an arrow to her bow—a seamless and expert move—as she runs. Sliding to a neat stop beside Esther, she takes perfect aim at my face.
Her finger twitches on the bow as if she’s about to release it.
It would be a perfect shot through my right eye.
As I sight down the weapon to her face, I’m shocked to see that she still wears Hagan’s mark, drawn in blood on her cheek. I was sure she would have washed it off by now. Her chestnut brown hair is pulled back off her face. The bruise Cyrian gave her yesterday darkens the skin across her cheekbone.
She falters as her gaze passes from me to Nathaniel’s unconscious body. “Nathaniel!” The fear in her voice when she cries his name strikes through me.
“Take him,” I plead, my left arm shaking violently around his chest. I know Christiana doesn’t trust me, but I don’t understand why she hasn’t reached for her brother already. “Take Nathaniel. Please.”
She starts to rise before she reasserts her offensive position, anchoring herself back to the ground. Her wild gaze flickers between me and h
er brother, but her aim remains steady despite the stormy emotions filling her face.
Esther is equally pale beside her. “Is it a trap?”
Christiana shakes her head. “I don’t know! He could be hurt—dying. But we can’t trust her. She’s already betrayed us.”
Betrayed them? The last time I saw Christiana, she was running into the dark after Hagan made her leave. After that, Hagan and Nathaniel fought, and then I brought them both here. I don’t know why she would say I’ve betrayed them.
“Where’s Mathilda?” Christiana asks Esther. “I need her power. Only she can see the truth.”
“She should be on her way,” Esther says. “She was making sure it’s safe inside.”
Safe inside… Between their comment about betrayal and making things safe, I can only assume that something happened inside the Bitter Patch—an event that has made Christiana distrust me even more than she already did.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” I cry.
Whimpers escape my lips. My right arm feels like it’s completely separated from my body. I recognize Geordie—the man with a mop of blond hair—crouched in position among the trainees on my right. He can see Hagan, but I don’t think Christiana or Esther can. Treble stands too high and Hagan’s lying completely on Treble’s right wing now. Probably all Esther and Christiana can see is my outstretched arm but not whom I’m holding.
Like Esther, Geordie lowers his weapon for a second, but he lifts it again when Christiana shouts, “Keep up your guard! She’s already betrayed Nathaniel. We can’t trust her until Mathilda says it’s safe.”
To me, she says, “I’m sorry, Aura. I can’t risk my people’s lives.”
Agony is making logical thought difficult. “You’re risking Nathaniel’s life! Christiana, you have to believe me—”
“No!” she shouts. “I can’t believe a word you say. You could have deliberately knocked him out. You could have spelled him. All of this could be a trap! You know our location. Your queen has already attacked us. The minute we lower our guard, you’ll kill us.”
“I don’t… have the power… to spell him…” Like other humans, Christiana doesn’t understand how fae magic works, that my power is limited to my control over starlight. Dark magic can be used to control someone’s actions—like Cyrian used to subdue Christiana yesterday—but fae magic can’t. “I don’t know anything about an attack.”