Taking a moment, I roll back my shoulders, subduing the tyrannical pull of magic as I flex and clench my fingers, forcing the roots to cease their incessant coiling. As soon as I get a handle on them, I push my way past everyone and then carefully gather Auren into my arms, tucking her against my chest, hating how lifeless she still feels.
I start to walk away, but Digby hobbles in front of me, expression murderous. “I told youto fix her.”
“She just needs to rest,” I reply, but even I can hear the uncertainty in my tone. “I need to get her out of the elements.”
Mutinous hate is there on his face, but before he can say anything else, I turn to Osrik. “You all fly back to the army. I want our soldiers moved out of Ranhold tonight. I don’t trust Queen Kaila. Get them back to Fourth as quickly as they can march.” My mouth sets into a grim line. “We’ll need them.”
Osrik nods, but Judd asks, “What about you?”
I cast a glower at the sky. “I’m going to fly like hell ahead of this storm and get Auren somewhere safe.”
“You can’t go alone,” Lu argues. “And you can’t fly all the way to Fourth with her unconscious. It’s too far. What if she wakes up and gilds you to death?”
Argo tucks in his bark-colored wings and kneels as I approach him, his talons sunk into the deep snow. “I’m not going to Fourth,” I call over my shoulder.
“Where are you taking her, then?” Digby demands.
But it’s Ryatt who answers as I grab hold of the saddle strap and hoist myself and Auren onto Argo’s back. I lock eyes with my brother’s angry gaze just as he answers for me.
“He’s taking her to Deadwell.”
CHAPTER 3
SLADE
Age 8
“Slade!”
My shouted name is louder than the birds’ song, startling a few into taking flight.
I turn to look at the estate through the branches of the tree, and when I bend one back, one of the buds under my hand puffs out a cloud of blue. Ahead, the black stone building is stained with lines of white from all the times it’s rained, the top of it flat except for the square chimneys standing up like stacks of blocks.
My eyes drop down to the sloped grass where she’s walking up the hill toward me. I huff out a sigh and let go of the branch, more carefully this time so that I don’t get hit in the face with another puff from the tree buds. They smell good at least, but they’re awfully messy.
I turn back to the pin bird sitting on my finger. She’s just a nestling, tufts of down covering her spindly body, but her eyes are open and she coos low in her throat. “It’s alright. You’ll grow your real feathers soon,” I tell her. In a few weeks, she’ll have a plume of them at her tail for her to show off, each one as thin as a pin, the ends as sharp as them too. “Then you’ll be able to fly off with the rest of them.”
My name is shouted again, so I gently place the bird back in its nest before I swing my leg over the branch and start to climb my way down.
When my bare feet land in the grass, I look up at my mother standing over me with her hands on her hips. Her black hair is in a long, loose plait, and she’s wearing the same red-colored clothing as me, except she’s in a dress. “And what do you think you were doing up in that tree?”
I shrug. “Nothing.”
“Mm-hmm,” she says as she wipes off some of the blue powder that landed on my shoulder. “I suppose you weren’t climbing up there and playing with the birds again.”
My face is in a frown when I turn it back up to her. “I wasn’t playing. That’s baby stuff. I was monitoring.”
My mother’s lips twitch. “Of course,” she says, green eyes flicking down. “And your shoes?”
Another shrug. “It’s harder to climb with them. I didn’t put them on because I didn’t want to fall.”
She shakes her head, but all sternness has left her expression as she kneels down in front of me. “Well, I certainly can’t have you falling. And how are the birds this morning?”
“They’re good,” I assure her, feeling excited again now that I can tell she’s not angry. “There’s a little nestling, but I think its mom left already, so I’m gonna help teach it to fly.”
The shape of my mother’s green eyes crinkles as she smiles. “If anyone can do it, you can. You’ve always had a way with them.”
Her hand lifts and she combs her fingers over my hair, but I jerk my head away and press down on it. “I combed it earlier.”
