“Aella, just let me explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain,” I say, my voice trembling with equal parts hurt and anger. The words feel heavy, like they’re dragging the air from my lungs. “You lied to me. You betrayed me.”
Raven’s eyes widen, a flicker of regret flashing across his face. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against my arm in a tentative, almost desperate attempt to bridge the distance between us. Where his touch used to burn, it now chills me to the bone, and I instinctively recoil from it.
“Goodbye, Raven.” My voice is barely more than a whisper but it cracks under the weight of emotion—under the finality.
The silence that follows is suffocating, broken only by the faint shuffling of Raven’s feet as he hesitates, as if searching for the right words.
The door clicks shut, and those words never come.
Tap, tap, tap.
I roll over, pulling the sheets tighter around me and pressing my face into the pillow. The ache in my body feels distant, like a memory I’m not sure belongs to me. My lips twitch—almost a frown, maybe—but then the weight of yesterday presses in, heavy and indistinct, a blur of images and feelings I can’t quite grasp.
There’s a strange stillness inside me, like my mind is holding everything at arm’s length. The hollow ache in my chest feels far away, muted, like it belongs to someone else. A muffled sound escapes me—raw, broken—but it feels detached, like I’m hearing it from somewhere outside myself. I stay that way, quiet and still, waiting for the storm inside me to hit, but it never comes. All I’m left with is the empty, echoing silence.
Tap, tap, tap.
My body goes still as the incessant noise that pulled me from sleep sounds again. Sharper, more insistent, pecking at my mind.
I push up with a gasp as awareness floods back in. “Cinder!”
Throwing the tangled sheets aside, I scramble to the window, reaching it in a flurry of graceless limbs. The brisk air kisses my bare skin as I fumble with the latch and throw it open. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register that I’m naked, but the thought doesn’t hold.
In a flurry of soot-spotted white wings, my feathered friend flies into the room with a shrill cry. Tears prick my eyes and my vision blurs as I watch him swoop around the room before settling on the desk. I drop to my knees, my heart almost bursting at the familiar sight of him perched on the scratched wooden surface.
“I missed you so much,” I breathe, reaching out a hand to stroke hisfeathers. But instead of feeling their silky texture, I yelp as a sharp pain pierces my fingers. I stare as blood drips from the puncture of Cinder’s sharp beak before looking up at him incredulously. Cinder glares back, his beady black eyes narrowed with accusation.
“Are you mad at me?”
He ruffles his feathers, causing his sleek body to puff up, and then turns his head away. My jaw drops open in shock, but I promptly close it in case that response only annoys him further. Nursing my stinging hand at my chest, I shuffle closer.
“Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment?” A laugh breaks free, startled and raw with emotion. And for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel something real.
He huffs out a shrill squawk without sparing me a glance, and my heart twists with guilt. Shuffling closer, I grab the small jar of dried fish flakes from the desk. Unscrewing the lid, I pour a generous helping in front of him. “Peace offering?” I say, holding the jar aloft. “How about this—no more leaving without telling you first. Does that sound fair?”
He cocks his head at me, one wing twitching as if considering my proposal. Finally, with another resigned squawk, he leans toward the pile of fish and begins eating.
My laughter comes easier this time, small and shaky but grounding. Reaching up, I stroke his feathers, and this time he lets me. Relief blooms in my chest, a fragile warmth that threatens to spill over.
He holds still under my touch for a moment before letting out a sharp chirp and lifting one foot. My breath hitches as I notice the small scroll tied to his leg. My fingers tremble as I untie it, unfurling the parchment.
East gardens. Noon.
I trace the familiar script of Kal’s note, my heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and dread. He’ll have questions, I’m sure of it. Questions I’m not sure I’m ready to answer. But I need him. I need his help if I’m going to see this through.
My eyes drift toward the open window. From the angle of the shadows, it’s still early morning, and I have at least a few hours before I need to leave.
Just enough time to set my plans in motion.
I move to my desk, rifling through the drawer to find a small graver. Holding it tight, I cross to the bookshelf and pull down a simple jewelry box. Inside is a golden ear cuff and a small round pendant on a thin chain, both smooth and unadorned.
Cinder trills, pulling me from my thoughts. I glance over at him where he sits watching me, his small body framed in the rising sunlight. My lips tilt into a faint smile—an honest, unguarded one this time.
“Don’t worry,” I tell him softly as I sit cross-legged on the bed. I put the pendant aside and press the graver’s tip to the cuff. “I know what I’m doing.”
Closing my eyes, I look inward, toward the warmth nestled deep in my chest. It feels soft, like thread spooled over a golden core, one that hums alongside my heart.
