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Cirel’s gaze was measuring, as if the answer should have been obvious. “Where else can we go? The isles labeled us a threat. Aranma cast us out centuries ago. Our only answer was and still is war to carve a place for ourselves in this world.”
A giant lump shifted under mounds of hay, sending her lurching back. The winged beast that shook free was terrifyingly beautiful. All sleek angles and smooth, ebony scales. Its red eyes gleamed with understanding, no trace of sinister magic clouding its bright mind.
The welkin tucked its wings in close as Cirel swiftly climbed onto its back. “Are you coming?”
Swallowing, she shook her head. “I don’t fare well with flying.”
He held out his hand, his expression dark. “You’ve never flown with me.”
Knowing he would force her onto the welkin’s back, Tenah took his hand and tucked her body against him, arms locking around his waist. While he wasn’t muscled like Renton, his lean torso was still hard like stone. With her cheek pressed against his shoulder, she could smell hints of sandalwood and smoke beneath his constant, invisible swarm of magic.
The welkin shot out of the tower, and a screech ripped from Tenah’s throat as they dropped hundreds of feet before leveling out above the city.
Lightning had nothing on the welkin’s speed. As branches of it discharged from murky, greenish clouds, the welkin banked with efficient shifts of its wings. Its shriek, like metal shredding, rivaled the tireless thunder.
Tenah buried her face into Cirel’s back. She hated the way flying throttled her stomach. There was nothing more she wanted right now than to retreat into the crisp sheets of Renton’s bed again, embraced in his safe arms.
Renton. Was he alive? And poor Gireth…
“Open your eyes. Witness what has been done to my kingdom,” Cirel demanded.
A river of bones and ruins flowed beneath them. It ran on for endless miles, cutting through the land like a scar, halting only for the mountainous heaps of toppled buildings.
Tenah’s breath grew heavy in her lungs. “What is this place?”
“Roan’s Wake. My kingdom’s grave.”
Bile rose up in her throat as she struggled to make sense of the carnage. Any time her father had talked about the war, reenacted it on his tables with wooden pawns, she’d visualized bloodshed. But not on a scale like this. This had been an annihilation. This was what her father had been trying to avoid.
“Hathrowyn struck first,” Cirel said. “Did you know that? The peacekeepers of the isles. Vozar followed suit shortly after, wanting to claim victory against my supposedly Corrupt mother first. Like it was some sort of race to bet on.”
Tenah rested her head against him once more, unable to hold it up anymore. She was so tired of death.
Her hands pressed tight against his stomach as the welkin flipped almost vertical, banking down to land gracefully on a shadow-made mountain. She was careful not to step on the skulls when she dismounted.
Two giant, arched stone pillars stood proud in the valley between bones. One of the ancient gates she’d traced with curious fingers in her books, built centuries ago by the Greater Elementals to house a portal. They hadn’t hummed with magic since the elders had shut them down. Those severed ties had kept Cirel temporarily isolated.
“I won’t help you,” Tenah said firmly. No way would her name be written in history as the shadow that roused them from deep slumber.
Cirel didn’t move a muscle. He could be so still at times that Tenah wasn’t sure if he was even breathing. Her mind longed to uncover what she’d once known about him. Her father had claimed he wasn’t fully shadow, but she’d never asked and he’d never shared much of himself beyond their secret adventures exploring the Void.
“Your father’s right hand did such abhorrent work on your mind,” Cirel said. “You didn’t recognize me that day in the temple. You honestly believed I was some ethereal being come to save you.”
“You did nothing to make me believe otherwise,” Tenah accused, rubbing at her arms, chilled by a cold front rolling in with the promise of acidic rain.
Cirel’s eyes flashed darker. His head lifted to the sky, his shoulders rising and falling with a long, somber breath.
Tenah’s brows furrowed. He was so perplexing—wicked and wrathful and then he had these brief moments of such profound sadness.
“I don’t understand you,” she whispered.
Cirel turned to face the scarred lands as a crack of lightning split the sky. “I thought if anyone could understand me, it would be you. We swore to change this world for the better. That was before you demonstrated your treachery.”
Tenah’s nails cut into the soft flesh of her palms.
The king whirled around, his silver eye glinting with smothered emotion. “It’s time we end this suffering, starting with the fall of your wretched father. Help me awaken the portals. Let us reconnect our kingdoms. Our goals coincide, Tenah.”
Weeks ago, she might have done so willingly in exchange for Cirel’s aid in defeating her father. But nothing could make this right. Nothing could make amends for this sea of death. Nor those burned up in her home during the gathering.
