Ericen rolled his shoulders, and I winced at thinking how sore they must be from being bound in the same position for so long. “It feels good to move.”
“I’m sorry about all this,” I replied. “And thank you for telling me the truth.”
He looked surprised. “You believe me then?”
“I figured your imagination didn’t extend as far as mythical beings and mysterious powers.”
He grinned wickedly, his eyes half-lidded like a lazy cat’s. “Oh, you’d be surprised what my imagination can come up with.”
A flush crept into my cheeks, and I spun about to face Res, only to almost impale myself on his beak. He’d been standing right behind me, peering at Ericen with blatant curiosity. I gestured vaguely at him. “The crow likes you. I figure if we’re wrong, he can just fry you with lightning.”
Ericen laughed.
I refused to turn back around, the heat in my face unrelenting. He’d always been able to get under my skin, but these weren’t the barbed, caustic words that had once made me want to punch him. These set my skin aflame in a very different way, and I had no defense against it.
My conversation with Auma last night crouched in the back of my mind, waiting for me to face it.
Decisions take courage.
I’d decided to trust Ericen, that much I knew. But what that truly meant, I wasn’t sure.
“You said something about flying,” the prince said. “Can I see?”
“Good question.” I stared pointedly at Res, who huffed and flopped his pretend injured wing, clearly having expected a long break after our flight. “I promise chicken after.”
He perked up at that, and I rolled my eyes.
I approached the edge of the hill, peering over. The side had been terraced, creating a line of sloping drops and plateaus like the one we stood on. Res could glide straight to the bottom or land and take off several times to practice control. A valley rested at the foot of the farthest terrace, a trickling stream tracing through it, before the hills reared up into the Calase Mountains that protected the city’s back.
Ericen appeared at my side, his shoulder brushing mine. Once, I’d refused to even talk to him about the crows. Now, he stood beside me as mine trained.
“What?” Ericen asked.
I blinked, realizing I’d been smiling. “Nothing.”
Res snorted in amusement, sensing the lie.
“Shut it,” I muttered. “You’re a seven-foot-tall pile of feathers.” He cawed, and I gestured to the edge of the plateau. “After you.”
It felt strange to smile right now. To laugh. But I leaned into it, letting myself take that first step.
Ruffling his feathers in a way that made him look comically inflated rather than intimidating, Res hopped up to the edge. He snapped his wings open, narrowly missing knocking me down the hill—a fact I didn’t think was an accident—and leapt.
Res glided down, alighting effortlessly on the ground at the base of the terraced hill.
“Now what?” Ericen asked.
“He comes back up.” I sent an image to Res of him using his wings to hop onto the terrace above in one powerful burst. It was a strength exercise he hated. Sure enough, annoyance at the work involved flickered back, which I didn’t grace with a response.
With a hard flap of his wings, he leapt over the edge and onto the plateau. He glanced up at us, measured the rest of the effort required to get back to the top, and plopped onto the ground.
Ericen snorted. “Impressive.”
I swatted his arm, which was a lot like hitting stone.
He raised an eyebrow. “Now that’s not fair. I’m defenseless.” He lifted his bound hands, and I resisted the urge to say he was about as defenseless as a wolf missing a tooth. It would give him far too much satisfaction.
“I can’t deal with you and the crow. I don’t know whose ego is bigger,” I grumbled.
