The king steps away, expression going firm and tone now full of command. “Go, Argo.” The beast rumbles, but Ravinger shakes his head. “You can’t come with me. Go back to Fourth. That’s an order.”
It growls savagely, and my grip on Dommik’s hand tightens enough to hurt.
“Go!” he orders, making Dommik and me both flinch at the crack of sound.
The timberwing opens his maw and roars.
I stagger back, but Ravinger stands firm, not moving an inch even with those sharp teeth only inches from his face. Then, with one last growl, the timberwing turns and shoots up into the sky, heading in the direction of Sixth Kingdom.
It’s only because my eyes quickly dart back to Ravinger that I catch it—the muscle in his jaw jumping, the tic as he grinds his teeth.
That’s regret he’s chewing on.
It makes me understand immediately. The snap of command wasn’t impatience or even anger at his mount not following orders. It was the only way he could get his loyal beastto go. For while Orea is far from safe…crossing the bridge into a fae realm is infinitely more dangerous.
This time, when Ravinger turns toward the bridge and starts walking, there is no interruption. He goes past the pillars, entering onto that endless gray path. It feels like an ethereal, otherworldly sight to see him walk down it.
My eyes burn from lack of blinking, but still, I watch, unwilling to miss a single second.
He goes steadily, his lone, dark visage entering the fray of the fog. He walks the path alone, and he does not stop.
He does not waver.
King Ravinger walks down the bridge…
And is swallowed by the vaporous void.
CHAPTER 22
SLADE
The bridge to nowhere wasaptly named. There is noplaceto be seen in this thick fog. No location that could ever be tracked on this narrow stretch of dirt.
Before it was connected to Annwyn and our realms were tied together, this bridge was probably never-ending. Perhaps the first Oreans who ever walked upon it are still in the nowhere, walking.
But despite the way it looks, I can tell the bridge is connected. I can scent it. It’s faint, bogged down by the wet brume, but the unmistakable, unforgettable smell of Annwyn is hinted in the air.
My steps are muffled as I stride forward, my pace steady, my determination rigid. The prints of thousands of other boots are crushed into the dirt, evidence of just how many soldiers have crossed through.
For Orea’s sake, I hope no more come. If they do, Queen Malina will have to deal with them.
As I walk down the bridge, my magic starts to feel muted. My sleeves are rolled partially up, spikes exposed. Though my black veins are receding little by little, and my skin itches uncomfortably, like something is scraping against me.
I don’t dare try to force my power up, just in case. But the feeling of my power being stifled is unnerving.
I ignore it.
I’m not surprised that the bridge does strange things, but I know better than to try to fight it.
Hopefully, Argo will follow my command and go back to Fourth, because I don’t want him anywhere near this twisting fog. The bridge is no place for a timberwing. There’s no telling what could happen in this voided air should he try to fly through it.
Centuries ago, when Seventh Kingdom tried, the beasts never returned. I’m not willing to risk Argo. And even though the bridge is reconnected now, there’s also no telling what I’m going to find on the other side.
So although he was anxious and furious, not wanting to part ways, it’s too dangerous for him to come with me. And I promised a very special little girl that I would keep him safe and send him home, so that’s what I did.
This journey must be made by me, and me alone.
There are whispers in the fog, but I know better than to stop and listen to them. I know better than to linger.
