“Okay,” Soraya nodded.
“Now pick up your blade,” Arawn said. “And do what a Sacred does best.”
Cyrra landed just as his fire winked out.
Her talons flattened the wolves on one side, and Arawn leapt for her, landing hard against his saddle. Soraya sprinted for her own mount, as Arawn guarded her back...and together, they took to the skies again, their eagles like twin flames to light the night.
He noticed, that for the rest of the battle...
Soraya had no magic.
As if her connection with Avane had died.
As if all the sun in her, all the joy he’d always known... hadgone dim.
The war ended for the night, and Soraya flewpastArawn and the others... like she couldn’t get back to the Citadel fast enough, even if it meant she’d broken formation.
By the time he dismounted and checked on Cyrra, offering her a well-deserved meal... she was long gone from the Eagle’s Nest.
He found her in the Rider’s temple, a small room inside the Aviary with stained glass windows of each pillared god. She was seated by the fire...with a small black book cradled in her hands.
“Soraya?” He kept his voice light as he entered, but she didn’t look up.
So, he crossed the room and sat down beside her, studying the side of her face. She hadn’t even wiped the darksoul blood away, hadn’t changed out of her runed fighting leathers. She smelled like smoke, from his own fire...and she was hunched over, her eyes closed as she held the small black book to her chest.
Almost as if she were praying.
He supposed now was as good a time as any to spend a moment alone with her god...to apologize for what she’d said on the battlefield. In the heat of the moment, in her brokenness...she’d snapped.
That must be it.
She looked weak. Exhausted from the battle, the surging of her magic...and now that he thought about it, she hadn’t shared a meal with him and the others in days.
Had she even slept in the nights since Kinlear’s accident?
“Soraya?”
She didn’t open her eyes, so he reached out and touched her wrist. “Sor?—”
Gods, her skin was cold. Utterly cold, as though she were still standing there in the snow. And her eyes, when they finally fluttered open? They were haunted. Their normal bright amber was muted. Perhaps she was sick from the overuse of magic.
“Soraya, I just?—"
“What?” she snarled at him.
He flinched.
She’d been crying again.
“I just...I’m worried about you.” Arawn said carefully. This wasn’t like her at all. He felt like he was looking at a stranger.
“Why?” she asked. “I’mfine.”
“What happened wasn’tfine,”Arawn said.
She laughed. “Should I pay penance, then? For speaking the truth to my god? It’s what they teach us, Crown Prince. Why should I be punished for it?”
Her words had come out like a growl. She never talked to him this way. And she looked, for a moment...like she wanted tohurthim. Hurt anyone, like the Soraya who’d just been on the battlefield had followed her here.
