“We can lodge here for the night,” Auma said. “In the morning, I’ll lead you to Eselin. It’s about a two-day journey.”
A line of tension snapped in my shoulders, and I let out a quiet breath. We’d made it.
We filed into the inn through an arched door, a spacious room stretching out before us. Small, neatly organized bookcases leaned against every available wall space, plush couches gathered around them, half-hidden by burnt-orange and saffron-yellow drapes.
A woman wearing brilliant purple and yellow robes rose from behind a low wooden counter, a smile crossing her full lips. It only faltered for a second when she saw Res, who’d had to squeeze through the broad, arched door. Her eyes switched from him to me and back again, and whatever conclusion she came to, it involved not asking.
“Miss Tyshi.” She addressed Auma. “How may I help you?”
Kiva stiffened, and it occurred to me she might not have known Auma’s last name. Yet another reminder that the girl she’d come to care for was full of secrets.
“I need rooms,” Auma replied.
Well, at least that hadn’t changed—she was as blunt with her words as she’d ever been.
The woman ran a finger along a ledger laid out across the counter, then spun about and gathered several keys from hooks hanging at her back. “Follow me,” she instructed, coming around the counter and leading us down a hall to our right.
We followed, splitting up into our rooms. Samra went to one, a few of the soldiers splitting off into several others. The last I saw of Kiva and Auma before they disappeared around a corner was the two of them walking side by side, each curving in toward the other, like a pair of roses stretching up toward the sun.
The sight made me pause outside my door. I looked back to where one of the three soldiers left with Ericen unlocked a door.
The urge to say something else rose and died in my throat. There had always been something between us. Something that shifted depending on the light, leaving me constantly unsure of what I saw. He stared back with an open frankness, as if to say “ask of me what you will.”
“Good night,” I said.
He smiled as a guard opened the door. “Good night.”
I stepped into my room, Res shuffling in after me. With a flap of his wings, he leapt up onto the bed and collapsed in a flurry of feathers, promptly taking over the entire thing, his wings draping off the sides.
“Res?”
He emitted a sound akin to a groan. Emotions pulsed through the connection, flickers of shame and apology and fear.
“Oh, Res.” He looked ridiculous flopped down like he was, his wings askew and his beak buried in the blanket. The bed creaked with his weight.
I lay down on my side next to him, my wounds protesting. One bright gray eye opened to peer at me, mournful and tired.
“I’m okay,” I reminded him. My shoulder and back ached, but they’d heal. “You saved us today. Without you, Razel would have captured our ship and taken me prisoner.” I ran my fingers along the ridge of his neck, and he squeezed his eye shut. “We’ll learn to control your magic,” I promised.
Doubt flooded the bond, underlain by fear, and he shook his head. The beat of emotion resolved like a chant in my head:no no no no no.
“You don’t want to control it?” I asked a second before understanding settled. “You don’t want to use it.”
Res looked at me, then shut his eye again, curling in on himself. My hand still rested on his back, the coiled tension running through him hard as stone.
I didn’t know what to say.
Without Res’s magic, Trendell wouldn’t listen to us. A six-foot-tall crow, while impressive, couldn’t stop an army. But the steady thrum of pain and fear rushing from Res tore at me, and I knew I couldn’t push him. I didn’t want him to hurt like this.
“It’s okay,” I said again, my voice choked. “It’s okay.”
Res shifted, his head against me. He was far too big to fit in my arms, but I held him as best I could anyway.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered.
Thirteen
Some of Auma’s soldiers had risen early to collect supplies and additional horses. Thankfully, they’d taken Res into consideration and had an entire chicken’s worth of meat for him when we emerged into the common room. I expected him to gobble it down like he always did, but instead I had to coax him into eating every piece.
