I watch him through the bars of my cell, the one next to me, the next, my hope waning as he disappears from view.
Damn.
I begin counting—one to fifty. Now just waiting to make sure he’s gone.Only when I’m certain do I lift the threadbare blanket gathered over my shoulders, revealing the little lark tipped on her side in the alcove created by my bundled limbs.
“I’ll try again next round,” I whisper. “But dammit, you need to dive faster next time you hear him coming. He almost saw you. That was the closest call yet.”
She wiggles her tail, as if to saywell … he didn’t, sooo …
I sigh, scoop her into my palm, and bring her close to my face until her beak is almost kissing my nose. “If there’s ever danger, I need you to fly away as fast as you can. Do you understand?”
She doesn’t move. A silent protest that would impress me in other circumstances. But we’re talking about herwell-being.
“I mean it.”
Not so much as a twitch.
“You’re too stubborn for your own good.”
Literally.
I bring her closer, frowning as I study her rip, her stains, the crinklesin her beak. “Is that how you ended up so battered and bloody? Stubbornness?”
She wiggles her wings.
At least she’s honest with herself.
She repeats the motion, much more flappy this time. I realize she wasn’t being honest with herself at all but simply asking to play.
“Okay, okay. But only because you asked so nicely,” I murmur, holding her high, pausing. “Actually, first you need a proper name.” I bring her close to my face again. “I can’t keep calling you little lark. You’re more than just a little lark. You’re—”
The next word gets clogged in the back of my throat.
I clear the thickness away, smiling at her tilted on her side in my palm.
“Special.”
She doesn’t move for so long I wonder if she’s going to respond. But then with a single bat of her wings, she flicks her body around and boasts the letters on the side of her pleated abdomen:
nee
“Is that who you are?” I spin my hand so she’s forced to face me again. “Would you like me to call you Nee?”
She flaps her wings, just once. Making her bob like a nod.
That thickness in my throat grows so tight it’s hard to swallow past. “Well, alright, then.” I clear my throat and lift her high. “Are you ready, Nee?”
Another jiggle.
I fill my lungs and blow on her with such might she sails off my hand and tumbles through the air. Finally fluttering her wings, she rights herself, churning in giddy circles that make my heart ache.
“You’re such a lovely little thing,” I whisper, watching her dance amongst the moons sketched on the ceiling—most in black coal only slightly darker than the stone itself.
But I can see them. Can make out the constellations of dragons long past.
Nee bumps against the drawing of Slátra, and all the ligaments in my chest pull so tight it feels like I might implode.
Closing my eyes, I bring my hand to my brow and touch the Aether Stone.“Hov ahka nuieljuak. Hov-at haquil. Nuieljuakui taf maruli.”
