Res turned his head, peering at me through the foliage. Of course he knew that I was here. He felt me like I felt him. I felt the pulse of doubt, much weaker than before, and I felt it fade as I stepped out onto the path, meeting his gaze unwaveringly.
Estrel turned with him, her eyes widening a fraction. She stood, her hand on Res’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Little Peep,” she said, and I gritted my teeth at the nickname.
“Did you even care?” My voice broke. “Did you even think about me? About Rhodaire?”
“Every day.” She stepped closer with the hesitance of a flighty crow. “I—” She squeezed her eyes shut as if fighting back things she didn’t want me to see. Res nudged her arm, and she opened her eyes, peering down at him. She seemed to draw strength from him, her back straightening as she forced out a breath. “I couldn’t save her, Thia. I tried. I tried, and I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t do anything. And afterward—” She lifted her hands, baring the scars that twisted along her skin. “I couldn’t face you. I couldn’t fail you too.”
Every word she spoke wriggled beneath my skin, pooling cold and sharp in my stomach. She wasn’t the only one who’d hidden herself away. The only one who couldn’t face what remained of the world she’d loved.
“I’m sorry, Little Peep,” she whispered again, bowing her head.
“It isn’t your fault.” The words came out surprisingly steady.
Estrel lifted her gaze, a tentativeness in it I’d never seen before. It made my chest ache, made my heart beat with a fierce, protective fury.
“Feeling that way wasn’t your choice.” Just like it hadn’t been mine or anyone else’s who struggled with depression. You couldn’t just snap yourself out of it any more than you could mend a broken bone. It was a wound as real as the scars along her skin, and for those, I would make Razel pay. For so many things, I would make her pay.
“It doesn’t make you weak or broken or anything less than,” I said. “I’m just sorry it took me so long to tell you that.”
I closed the distance between us, throwing my arms about Estrel’s neck. She clasped me to her, the familiar strength of her embrace breaking down every wall I’d built, every ounce of pain I’d gathered inside myself, and washing them away.
“I’m just so glad you’re here,” I said softly.
“Me too,” she said. “Me too.”
A new kind of heat rose inside me, chasing away the last wisps of anger and betrayal.
This was the heat of mending. The heat of reforging.
Because this was real. This was happening. I had hatched a crow, I had helped it discover its powers, and I had brought it to the heart of this alliance, to the person who was always meant to be by my side.
“We’ll make a formal request for a second meeting in the morning,” Estrel said when I finished telling her about Elkona and Auma. “And I promise this time, I’ll be there for you.”
For the rest of the afternoon, Estrel helped me train with Res. She corrected his form, gave him pointers on techniques to try, and even reminded him that in addition to wings, he had this wonderful thing called a tail that was quite effective at providing direction.
There was a moment, as the sunlight glinted off the backs of his dark feathers, the sheer breadth and strength of his wings stealing my breath, where I felt outside myself. Like a spectator in someone else’s dream. Except this wasmydream. One I’d worked toward for a lifetime.
At last, I stood beside Estrel, training a crow I called my own.
I only wished Iyla were there to snap Res into shape each time he started to beg for a snack.
He appeared before us, claws outstretched, wings thrown back like a tapestry caught in the wind. He was no less majestic, no less artful in the way he landed. As he tucked his wings in tight, a flurry of adrenaline-laced excitement skittering down the bond, I grinned.
“You’re perfect,” I told him.
“What do you say to giving a little magic a try?” Estrel asked him. A flicker of unease crept down the cord, and Res shifted uncomfortably, digging his talons into the dirt. “I know. But with training, you’ll learn to control it, and your fear.” She reached out a hand, hesitating. Then she laid it on Res’s beak. “Trust her,” she said softly.
I laid my hand atop hers.
Res leaned into our touch, still for a single, peaceful moment. Then he stepped back, and the pulse of power rose beneath our hands. Energy roared to life around the bond as his wings lifted. The clear sky grew thick with mist that coalesced into heavy clouds, and the wind swept up to pull at my clothes and hair. Lightning crackled, splitting the sky with echoing booms of thunder.
Beside me, Estrel laughed. She spread her arms as the rain began to fall. I joined her, turning my face to the churning sky, relishing the rush of power undulating between Res and me and the feel of each cold, shocking droplet like a call to life.
Res released a piercing caw. A voice rose above the wind, and then another. A crowd had begun to gather on the edge of the plateau above. They pointed at Res and gestured up at the sky, leaning close to be heard over the storm.
An idea struck me, and in an instant, I was on Res’s bare back. He moved immediately, knowing what I wanted without me needing to ask. With a stroke of his wings, we were airborne. The storm unfurled around us as we rose.
