Page 170 of The Mortal Trials

“Morrigan won’t be there.”

She grins like a fox. “Oh, she’ll be watchin’ well enough and they all know it.”

Knowing something and fearing it are two different things.

Niall’s voice calls from the other side of the door. “Cal, I think our ride is here.”

I stand and look down. In this outfit, you can’t even tell I have a prosthesis. “She wanted to hide my leg?”

Aisling scoffs. “No, lass. Everyone saw you lose it. This will simply force people to look at you before rememberin’.”

Niall curses and something crashes onto the floor. Chair legs rake. Aisling pulls the bedroom door open and laughs. The tip of an enormous, black-feathered wing gouges into the room, swiping at Niall, who’s plastered against the farthest wall.

Awe swells within my chest. “I didn’t know there were any of them left.”

The brightness of Aisling’s grin could rival the sun. “Morrigan wouldn’t let these majesties disappear. She keeps ‘em tucked safely away for times such as this.”

“Parties?” I tease, sliding sweaty hands down my hips.

She chuckles, cooing at the creature as she eases its wing out of the doorway. “Go on now, préachán. Tuck in your wings and let ‘em climb on.”

Niall straightens. His eyes catch on me and flare. Does he think I look like I used to, or can he not see the girl I was at all?

I move to the door, putting distance between his observations and mine. I’m the first to mount the giant crow Aisling calls Ceann Ársa – Ancient One.

Its breathing lifts and lowers me as I sit, straddling its back, searching in vain for a place to hold on. I don’t want to hurt him or pull out any feathers or down.

“Don’t worry about holdin’ on, Callalie. He’s Morrigan’s favorite. He wouldn’t disgrace her by lettin’ you slip.”

“So, I don’t need to do anything?” I ask as Niall clambers up behind me, leaving a respectable distance between our bodies.

“Just enjoy the flight,” she assures me.

The crow stretches its wings and turns its back to our dwelling.

Niall makes an unsure sound as he tries to brace against the bird’s sides. “I need to hold onto your waist,” he says, panic in his tone.

“How will that help?”

The préachán’s talons crumble some of the more brittle stones under its monstrous feet.

“It just will!” he shouts.

“Fine.”

He grips my hips so hard I almost yelp. I’m about to toss his hands off when I realize the bird has taken flight. He lifted us so gently, I hadn’t so much as rocked.

I laugh as we soar over the white-washed Olympian houses with burnt orange clay tile roofs.

“How are you enjoying this?” Niall yells into my ear.

My heart soars with this incredible creature. “How are you not?”

I never thought I’d see one in my lifetime, let alone ride on one.

The Ancient One’s wings flap and he cuts through the air with precision. His eyes bounce from the ground to the horizon and back – keenly aware. We bank toward the faceted sea where the setting sun gilds us like it does the water we soar over.

It’s breathtaking. Majestic.