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“Well, I won't,” I insisted, forcing certainty into my voice.
Down below us there were shouts from the ramparts.
“Odessa is sending soldiers to the surface. They've cleared the other riders. We need to move. Beks and Javer are up there. I don't know who else is with them.”
“Sure, I'll just fly you back to the ramparts and drop you off, then Ulpheas can stitch you...”
“Just tell Nightclaw to take us there,” Draven interrupted me. “He should be able to do it.”
“What?”
“Tell him to try at least. He should be able to go such a short distance.”
“How do you know all of this?” I demanded.
I heard him snort. “I'm very, very well-read. Remember?”
“You're a fucking scholar, sure,” I muttered.
I touched my hands to Nightclaw's sides and closed my eyes. Can you do this? I asked. Can you do what he's claiming? Do youwantto?
Instantly I felt Nightclaw's assent.
Our surroundings blurred into a whirlwind of motion, colors merging and warping with dizzying speed. Time seemed to stretch and compress all at once.
And then we were on the surface. Standing amidst the bustling streets of the city of Noctasia.
I glanced down at Nightclaw, silent appreciation passing through me.
In front of us, standing on one of the bridges overlooking the lake, Javer and Beks posed side-by-side at the forefront of a battle raging above them.
High over the city, a tempestuous sky hissed with fury, dark clouds swirling ominously.
Bolts of deadly lightning slashed through the air, illuminating the city below with brief flashes.
Each thunderous strike hammered against the shield that Javer and Beks were so valiantly upholding. I watched as Beks’ thin arms trembled under the weight of the magical defense.
I put a hand on Draven’s arm. “They can’t keep holding it. We have to do something.”
The shield would fall and the people of Noctasia would be utterly exposed. The city would be devastated. Did Rychel understand just what she had done today?
Draven nodded. I removed my hand quickly.
“Can Nightclaw fly again?”
I looked at the battlecat. “I... think so.” I touched Nightclaw with a wisp of awareness and felt his eagerness to rise once more. “Yes. He says yes.”
“Your connection is strong already,” Draven observed. “Good. Let's go.”
We rose slowly over the city, over the chaos and terror. Below, a frenzy had taken hold. People ran haphazardly through labyrinthine alleys, their eyes wide with fear and desperation. Frantic cries filled the air, mingled with sounds of hurried footsteps and clattering of objects knocked askew. Market stalls lay abandoned, their wares scattered in disarray as merchants and patrons alike sought refuge from the impending attack.
As we ascended into the sky, I glanced back once more to see Beks standing beside his master. His messy black hair fell over his forehead, choppy and uneven. His little face bore the weight of a responsibility far beyond his years, yet there he stood. Steadfast and unswerving. Refusing to yield.
Beside him, Javer briefly laid a hand gently on his apprentice’s shoulder. He was standing very close to the boy, murmuring words I prayed were of encouragement.
Human or fae, was Beks not part of this empire, a voice inside me whispered? Was he not worthy?
Javer’s thin hands flashed through the air with practice precision, channeling arcane energy as he held the shield. I broke my gaze away from the pair.
