Mine’s not as immediate or as strong. My back throbs, my teeth chatter, and my vision wavers, but Fyrestar isn’t facing an uncertain rebirth, so I can face anything else.
Bale swoops back around and drops like a boulder next to us, changing forms in a whirl of inky smoke. He looks at me, then at Fyrestar, flames bright in his eyes. His jaw ticks. Is he that angry? Or do we look that bad?
My heart pounds heavily, proving I’ve still got some blood in me. Struggling to sit up, I sniff back tears. I’m dizzy but try not to show it, determined to be stronger than the gray spots floating across my eyes. I pretend I don’t have tears on my face. People don’t cry in front of Bale Cinderheart. The entire Elite Wing already thinks I’m weak.
I reach out, stroking Fyrestar’s slowly warming feathers. “I’m sorry.” Sorry and weak aren’t the same thing, and I’d trade my life for Fyrestar’s a thousand times over, especially if Cealastra’s continued absence means he can’t be reborn.
Bale’s expression veers toward something even harder. “Sorry has no place here. You accomplished an objective. You fought hard, killed many, and protected your warbird.” His amber gaze flashes to the two werechildren Fyrestar and I recovered. I see more than a dozen children, including the third one I’d been tracking. I don’t know how she got here, but there she is, thank the stars.
Relief weakens me even more. I sway, and Fyrestar somehow wiggles closer to brace me. “Did we get them all?” I ask.
Bale nods. “Fifteen were taken, and fifteen will go home.”
I swallow the thick lump in my throat, thankful we accomplished our goal. “We had to call for help,” I mumble, my words growing heavier and harder to form.
“You were fighting an army by yourselves.” Bale helps me to my feet, keeping his hand around my arm to steady me. Almost under his breath, he adds, “I would’ve been very angry if you hadn’t called for help.”
My heartbeat echoes from far away, and I can’t stop shaking. Fyrestar struggles to stand, swaying almost as much as I do. “Fyrestar can’t carry me.”
Kellan appears from out of nowhere. Well, not nowhere, but he wasn’t that close before. “I’ll carry Idallia home.”
I gape at Kellan, stars streaking across my vision and half obscuring him. For the first time, I see Bale hesitate. He looks back and forth between us, shadows seeping from him like a storm cloud rolling over the horizon. My legs suddenly give out, and only Bale’s hand on my arm keeps me standing. I swing limply toward him, and his other arm circles my waist. He holds me upright against his side, his expression questioning.
“I don’t care how I get home,” I rasp, my weakened pulse suddenly beating harder at his nearness. “I just need Sybil.”
Bale nods. He retracts his shadows as Kellan shifts into scales. Bale and Arran hoist me onto his back, and Maia gives me her cloak, tucking it around me. Her blonde hair looks dark in the low light, but her brown eyes gleam with worried inner fire. She’s the best warrior on this team besides Bale, capable of startling violence, but she’s also the most attentive and thoughtful. I grip her cloak with numb fingers and murmur my thanks.
Arran gathers my new blades, which I’m too weak to hold now anyway. I know he’ll take good care of them and return them to me cleaned and sharpened. Each swipe of a cloth or whetstone will be his way of burying the shock of seeing me half dead right now, and returning perfect blades to me will be his way of saying how relieved he is that I made it.
Maia moves toward Fyrestar, but Bale cuts her off, laying a protective hand on Fyrestar’s forehead.
“I’ll carry him.” Bale doesn’t take his hand off Fyrestar, and my phoenix glows even brighter, his soft coo making my heart swell. “Kellan goes immediately. Idallia needs a healer as soon as you reach Drayke Mountain. Maia, you’re his right wing. Arran, you’re his left. All your wing guards stay here to help carry the children.”
Maia and Arran shift as Danica asks, “And us?”
“You, Wade, and the wing guards will fly the children back to Muirvale and reunite them with their families. I’ll burn the werebeasts’ bodies to prevent carrion eaters from ingesting werepoison. As soon as I’m done, I’ll bring Fyrestar home.”
With the plan set, Kellan takes off immediately. I’m pretty sure his urgency is necessary. I heal faster than humans, but I don’t heal like a dragon shifter or a phoenix. Maybe if I knew what I was, I’d know my limits. As it is, I stumble along learning from trial and error, and tonight feels mostly like error.
As we lift into the sky and the treetops race by beneath us, I concentrate on staying on Kellan’s back and reaching Sybil. She’s human, a healer, and my best friend. Cealastra knows, Sybil’s had to use her healing magic on me often enough over the last few decades. At first, I didn’t want another human friend. They age so fast and die so quickly. But she was young and lonely when she arrived at Drayke Mountain, and it didn’t seem right to only care about what I wanted—or feared.
My eyes prick again for reasons I don’t want to think about. I’m always more emotional when I’m injured.
I shiver violently as the wind rushes past us and ices my blood-wet hair. My numb fingers and heavy legs barely keep me on Kellan’s sleek back as he speeds south toward Drayke Mountain.
“So cold.” My teeth clack together.
He increases his inner fire, warming his scales. “That should help.”
His heat seeps into me, and my eyes close just as the lanterns of Muirvale come into view on our right. I think I sleep. When I lift heavy lids again, I ask, “Why’d you offer to carry me?”
His chuckle is familiar and yet foreign at the same time. I don’t hear it that often anymore. “I knew you wanted me between your legs again.”
“Fuck you,” I murmur without heat, the night sky so dark I wonder if I’m actually seeing anything.
I barely hear his low reply as I drift off to sleep. “Anytime.”
CHAPTER FIVE
