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I would give anything to tap out of this war as a soldier and instead become a guardian who saves phoenixes from being caged, eaten, worn, and, most critically, slaughtered for their powers.
“I didn’t mean pet-pet,” Brighton says. “But having some phoenixes can give us the upper hand. Especially for Emil, since his powers are down—”
“Bright, chill.”
I’m trying really hard to bury my rage. It’s bad enough that we’re specters with the blood of creatures that are literally worshipped here in this castle, but now he’s suggesting that I make up for my damaged, stolen powers by using a perfectly fine phoenix who doesn’t need to fly into my battles.
“I’d love to borrow Emil for a bit,” Wyatt says. “Could I interest you two in some lunch?”
“Yes, please,” Prudencia says.
“I got to catch up on my DMs anyway,” Brighton says as he glares at Wyatt.
He takes us all past the kitchen that smells of baked bread, soup, and potatoes. Prudencia takes Brighton’s hand, settling him down, but he still looks over his shoulder as they walk into a dining area with three long tables that remind me of our high school cafeteria.
I take a deep breath.
“Pardon me if that was inappropriate,” Wyatt says.
“What? Stopping me from dropkicking Brighton?”
“Precisely. Saving phoenixes is my heart’s work but preventing brothers from dropkicking each other is of utmost importance too.” Wyatt’s dimpled smile catches me off guard. Anytime I experience even the quickest jolt of joy I feel guilty because the war is raging. Wyatt’s work is significant, but he doesn’t seem to have the weight of the world trying to straight-up flatten him. “You really wear your stress, you know that? I know somewhere that might help you.”
I’m missing the sounds of the waves back at the cottage and wouldn’t mind another nature moment to try and center my anxiety. Wyatt asks a passing Halo Knight for directions to some room, I don’t catch the name, and he can’t even hide his own enthusiasm. I bet he’s terrible at keeping surprise parties a secret. He jogs up the stone steps of the south-facing tower. My recovering wounds make the climb a little harder for me without any of the adrenaline that’s pushed me forward so far, but when I get to the top it was worth every single ache.
The room is one massive nest with three baby phoenixes who immediately stare at us. The sun swallower has patchy orange and crimson feathers and their wide black eyes lose interest in us as two evergreen blazers charge. The world’s most popular firebird coughs out the tiniest of flames, which sends the young brown-and-green phoenixes tripping over themselves as they flee. The sun swallower’s chest proudly puffs out.
“This is a nursery of sorts,” Wyatt says.
“Can I hide out here forever?”
“Be my guest. I wouldn’t mind having some of my ashes spread here.”
Maybe to a Halo Knight that’s not a grim sentiment, but I’m less concerned about what will happen with my ashes and more hung up on what’s in store for my next life if I can’t break out of this infinity cycle.
Wyatt carefully scoops up the sun swallower. “Want to hold her?”
“I shouldn’t.”
“Come on. She doesn’t bite. Though she might burn off your eyebrows if she’s feeling gassy.”
I tense up as the memory of Luna stabbing Gravesend replays in my head. Her last cry. Her dark blue blood spilling down my chest before Luna drained the rest over the cauldron. “The last phoenix I held was killed.”
“But you weren’t her killer. You were her protector.”
I think about the look in Gravesend’s eyes as all life vanished. “I failed.”
“You think we don’t fail?” Wyatt rubs the neck of the phoenix pressed against his chest. “Sun swallowers like this little lady are treated as a delicacy in many top-tier restaurants. A plate can cost upward of a thousand pounds. The treatment in those kitchens is cruel. The phoenixes are locked in cages, killed and carved and cooked and served. Unfortunately for sun swallowers, they’re reborn from their ashes a full day later, cursed to die over and over to be someone’s dinner.” There are tears in his eyes and he kisses the phoenix’s head. “I’ve lost more fights than I’ve won setting them free from those conditions.”
I don’t know what’s worse, Gravesend losing all of her future lives after her first death, or all these caged phoenixes betrayed time and time again.
I step closer to Wyatt, and my hand hovers over the sun swallower. She flinches, suspicious of me, only settling down once I brush her smooth feathers. I’m scared I might drop her, so I sit on the floor and the evergreen blazers climb my ankles and race into my lap. The sun swallower burrows her beak into me, and I sense some comfort from her, the same way I could detect Gravesend’s thirst for war.
“They’ve taken to you,” Wyatt says, drying his eyes.
These phoenixes crawling all over me remind me of the BuzzFeed interview where Wesley was playing with puppies. Brighton probably watched it ten times. Man, he’s probably sliding into BuzzFeed’s DMs right now trying to set something up for himself. I don’t need that kind of attention.
“I wish I had my camera,” Wyatt says.
