“To the aviary, obviously,” she said with a smile. “It’s been a week, and you haven’t been out on your wyvern once.”
“I didn’t even know where to find her,” I admitted, the truth unpleasant on my tongue. “Or honestly, if Varidian had even brought her with me when he knocked me unconscious.”
She groaned loudly. “Ihatewhen he does that. He used to knock me out at the dinner table, and I’d wake up with vegetables stuck to my face. Don’t look so horrified,” she laughed.
“But—he controlled you, and you’re okay with it?”
“He’s my brother,” she said with a wave of her hand, bangles clacking together. “He’d never hurt me. Now enough talk of my insufferable brother. I want to know everything about you.”
I was relieved when we reached a wide doorway that led out into a courtyard hugged by the palace wall. An open gateway guarded by four guards in Saber purple linked the elaborate building behind us to the huge, towering aviary where the scent of copper and smoke thickened the air, wrapping my tongue in the taste of blood.
I should have realised eleven wyverns and the handlers who maintained the building wouldn’t discourage Mihrunnisa from wheedling details about myself from me. But I couldn’t help the urge to conceal the true parts of me. Fear of being unwanted, discarded had been drilled into me so consistently for so many years that I couldn’t shake it, even when I knew it was ridiculous. Rawiya had accepted me despite knowing everything. Varidian had, too.
But as the princess led me through the huge doorway into the aviary, I found myself guarding my secrets and only confessing the parts of myself I liked, even if the half-truths tasted sour on my tongue.
MountingRaheema was a trial in itself. All my practise at running up her leg, throwing myself onto the curve of her thigh and then propelling myself onto her back had come undone during the week we’d spent apart. It took four attempts to get atop her in the wide aviary stall, and I felt Mihrunnisa’s eyes on me the entire time.
She said nothing until I was safely in my seat, until she mounted Layla, the pearlescent wyvern that reminded me of a smaller, female version of Mak. She was every bit as fierce, with towering horns, vicious teeth, and the row of spikes down her back and tail.
“Fear of heights?” Mihrunnisa guessed, tucking the ends of her lilac headscarf into the collar of her dark violet leathers. She said nothing about my lack of a scarf, nothing about the way I’d flopped onto Raheema’s back instead of gracefully scaling her.
“Severe fear,” I agreed.
And because it was both a lie and the truth, and I’d had enough of bittersweet half-truths, I added, “I was never permitted a wyvern.”
“But… you’re gentry,” she replied with clear confusion. Layla tilted her giant head in my direction as keepers ran along the stalls, clearing space to embark, as if she agreed.
I avoided both stares, stroking Raheema’s warm neck as I considered my words. “I have very dangerous magic, as you know. Hence the gloves.” I could have coated the words in honey, softened their blow, but as wary as I was of everyone, IlikedMihrunnisa. She was generous and kind and a littlewicked; if I was going to lose her potential friendship, better it be now than later.
“When I was young, I killed two people in an accident. One of them was my younger sister. My father deemed me too dangerous for a wyvern; told me this magic was too evil. That no single creature would claim me or allow themselves to be claimed.”
Raheema’s sharp growl could be boiled down to a single word:bullshit.I was inclined to agree and stroked the spot between her stubby horns that she loved, but the words had done their damage long ago, and I still felt phantom pains from the scars.
“Does he have powerful magic, your father?” Mihrunnisa asked, a shrewd look in her eye when I dared a glance across the stall at her.
“No. An average ability to encourage plants to grow.”
She nodded, a sharp smile baring her teeth. “Weak men always fear powerful women. Especially powerful girls. They try to break us, or shelter us, to hide our power from us so we might never learn what we’re capable of.” She gave Layla a pat on her shoulder, encouraging the wyvern to exit her stall and approach the wide yard at the back of the aviary. But she paused to say over her shoulder, “You were too much a threat to him, but with a wyvernandthat magic? You are unstoppable.”
I didn’t know what to say, but I thought about those words all day as we soared over the silver and gold stone buildings of Morysen, flitting from cloud to open sky. Mihrunnisa called advice on a wind scented of olive trees, rich irises the exact shade of the Saber family, and roses as red as the sunset. It took me an hour to realise it wasn’t casual flying advice, wasn’t even a gift of her friendship; as we flew, catching swells of wind, soaring past other riders and their mounts, Mihrunnisa instructed me how to fly. As if she and Kamaal had discussed the skills I would needto survive this city, to survive the family I’d married into, and decided the brother would teach me to fight while she made me a better rider.
I didn’t mention it, and she didn’t acknowledge the way I sat a little straighter on Raheema’s back, leaning with her when she turned and swooped and dove, the movements becoming more natural as the princess led us on the same flight path three times, drilling it over and over. It would take hours to become as proficient as even a child, but the progress was clear, and obvious.
Raheema’s joy mingled with my pride after a while, and I had to physically rein her in, keep her from zipping over the parks and broad avenues and towers of Morysen, roaring her happiness.
When Mihrunnisa was satisfied, she brought Layla down in a slow arc. She made sure I had a clear view of how she landed in the violet square, a much larger version of the wolf mosaic we passed in the palace like a beacon calling us down from the sky.
“Slowly,” I warned Raheema as we copied the angle and wing beats, taking a wide arc around the square, getting lower and lower with every pass.
The princess’s quiet smile as she stood beside Layla and watched us touch the ground with only a shallow bump felt like loud praise. And luckily, I was better at dismounting than mounting, even if I gathered so much speed that my ankles barked complaints, and my feet stung. Even if I fiercely missed my husband's hands catching my waist to stabilise me.
Mihrunnisa linked our elbows when I found my footing, her gold eyes aglow. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” I admitted, surprised she couldn’t hear my stomach rumbling. I gave the young handler who rushed over to guard our wyverns a warning look.If anything happens to Raheema, I’ll let her eat you.
Raheema made a low sound.Too thin. Too much gristle.
“Perfect,” the princess said, towing me towards the square’s vast wooden gates. “I know just the place.”
