He blinked, like she still wasn’t getting it.
‘It’s in her blood,’ Arawn said. ‘To fly from harrowingheights. Her own mother came from there, in the Acolyte’s domain. And the raphon before that, and the onebeforethat, too. It’s who she is, Ezer. And if you’re going to survive this … believe in her. Trust that she’ll know what to do when the moment comes.’
She could picture it, the Descent, the fall, in her mind.
The wind biting at her hair, the?—
Arawn placed a hand atop hers. It was steadying. Grounding.
Warm, as it always was in her dreams.
For a moment, she didn’t want him to move it away.
And it seemed like he didn’t either.
So they stood like that, his hand just barely resting over hers, shoulder to shoulder, watching the sky.
She could feel his heartbeat.
It was fast, like hers.
‘Let her do what she does best,’ Arawn said. ‘Just like a bird leaving the nest, she’ll know what to do. And if you give her that trust …’ A steady breath, as his shoulder rose and fell against hers. And when he spoke next, she could have sworn there was sadness in his voice as he slid his hand away. ‘You’ll be flying away from here in no time.’
PART III
THE RAPHON RIDER
28
She found herself in the labyrinth again. But when she turned the skeleton key in one of the locks …
It wasn’t her own memory she found.
It was the Citadel. The library, of all places.
And seated there on the floor, her back up against the bookshelves as she scribbled something in a journal, was a small, mouse-haired young woman in a brown servant robe. There was a midnight-black cat in her lap, purring loudly.
‘I thought I’d find you here,’ said a voice.
Ezer turned to see a young man, perhaps only seventeen, with dark curls and bright blue eyes, and a smile that was as warm as the sun. He wore Sacred whites, the crest of a Realmist on his chest. ‘I’ve missed you, Styerra.’
‘And you,’ said the young woman.
And as she stood …
Ezer gasped.
Because it was her own face staring back at her. Without scars, without the ugliness, with a few more freckles on her nose, and much lighter hair. But the likeness was unmistakable.
Ezer stepped closer, knowing the young woman wouldn’t hear her. But she said the word on her heart anyway.
‘Mother?’
This time, when Ezer woke to Izill’s voice, she was desperate to keep her mother’s face with her.
‘Morning! The prince beckons again,’ Izill said, frowning as she stopped at Ezer’s bedside. ‘Was Absolution that bad? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
Ezer blinked wearily as she sat up. Her nightclothes were drenched in sweat. She felt a bit queasy, unsure if it was from the winterwine or the face so like hers in her dream. ‘I think … I think Ihave,Izill.’
