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A shudder ran through me as memories mingled, different voices and different faces, but their gut-punch effect so very similar.You embarrass me, Emelin.Once again, I’d tried so damn hard. Once again, I’d miscalculated. And here I was, sitting shivering and close to tears in the thicket of a nymph forest, dreading the fact that I’d have to get back up at some point, that I’d have to face them all again and find out just how much I’d ruined with one stolen kiss too many.
Would Tared tell Beyla? Would he, gods help me, tell Edored?
I was back at the pavilion at the Crimson Court, Valter’s letter in my trembling hands –Don’t look for us.What if we returned to the Underground tomorrow to find the people I’d called my family would no longer look me in the eyes? What if Lyn was furious with me for betraying the secret in such a foolish way? What if Agenor heard about this catastrophe and decided I wasn’t worth the family name after all, and—
A squeak broke through the silence, mere strides away.
I jolted up, only just suppressing a shriek. Red shot from my fingertips before I even realised I was drawing magic, and a slash of crimson cut through the moonlit darkness, lighting up moss and bark and leaves and sending a flurry of blossoms swirling down.
Only then did I recognise the small, feathery shape that had landed at my feet, glaring indignantly at me.
‘Alyra?’ My voice wobbled dangerously as I jerked back my hand. ‘Oh, gods. Sorry. Didn’t mean to attack you. I’m not … I’m not feeling my best.’
She could see that, her unimpressed glower informed me, and she was of the strong opinion that I was whining needlessly. Sure, it would be somewhat inconvenient if the man-with-a-sword-instead-of-wings were to stay angry forever, but then again, I still had her. And I didn’t think she’d be going anywhere, did I?
I blinked against the deluge of thoughts welling like my own, my panic faltering in favour of surprise. Did I expect her to go anywhere?
‘Well,’ I said, sounding defensive, ‘you think I’m an idiot, too.’
Which was exactly why she wasn’t going to leave me alone, for the goddess’s sake; a bird had to know her responsibilities, and clearly I was the sort of little fledgling that needed some guidance so as not to drop out of the metaphorical nest.
‘Ah,’ I said sheepishly.Metaphorical? Did birds even know what metaphors were, or was that my own mind’s interpretation of whatever was coming down this bond between us? ‘Well. That is reassuring, I suppose?’
Alyra hopped impatiently up and down, waiting for me to get up and follow. Minutes ago, the very concept of moving had paralysed me, but I found myself scrambling to my feet now, driven by the wish not to disappoint her more than by any inherent desire to get out of this patch of moss. Moss couldn’t shout at me. Moss wouldn’t be embarrassed by my presence. But she was right, I couldn’t sit here wallowing for the rest of the night – and if nothing else, Creon would probably be looking for me.
If he wasn’t breaking Tared’s bones, at least.
I bit down a curse and walked a little faster.
Alyra either knew the way or was very confidently lost; I didn’t have the heart to question her as she flapped before me, her white feathers starkly visible even in the darkest shadows. The nymph forest was quieter at night, but never completely still. Trees whispered around us like gossiping old ladies, and night birds flitted from branch to branch, their songs shattering the quiet at irregular intervals. Now and then, I thought I heard footsteps, but whether they were Helenka’s spies or just figments of my imagination, I didn’t dare guess.
Then finally, looming up between the trees and the silver glow of moonlight, that winged silhouette I knew better than my own hands.
‘Creon!’
He’d pulled me into his arms the next moment, squeezing me against his chest as if to press every last huff of breath for my lungs. I buried my face against his shoulder, dug my hands deep into his sides. When I breathed his name a second time, my voice was laced with involuntary sobs, and every muscle in his body seemed to stiffen at that sound.
I knew that stillness. If I so much as thought of violence a little too loudly, he would have his knife against Tared’s throat before I could draw my next breath.
‘Stay here,’ I whispered, forcing myself to be rational. Violence was the last thing we needed now. ‘Please. I need you with me.’
His arms relaxed, although not much. Moving half a step away from me, he wrapped the fingers of his left hand around my chin, tilting up my face for inspection. With his right, he signed,What did the bastard do?
The gestures were barely visible in the dark, and yet his straining fingers left no doubt of the emotion behind them: both worry and the tight fury of a male wrestling with himself not to tear down half an island in his wrath.
I blinked back tears and managed a muffled, ‘He wasn’t happy.’
Em.His jaw clenched, the cold moonlight sharpening the edges of his face.You're crying.
‘I didn't want to hurt him!’ I gabbled, unable to avert my face with my chin still caught in the vice of his fingers. ‘You were right, I should have told him weeks ago. I should have …’
What did he do, Em?
The first tears came dripping over my face, like drizzling rain, pathetic and useless. I couldn't stop them from spilling out no matter how hard I tried. Alyra squeaked beside me, a reproachful sound.Have you still not learned that honesty makes everything easier?my thoughts translated, and I caved.
‘He figured out Lyn knew and didn’t tell him.’ The words poured out like an unstoppable waterfall. ‘I told him to blame me, and then he told me to go to hell and vanished, and … and …’
Creon had gone icily still before me.
