I smother a gasp when power surges within me, cresting like a wave rolling into shore, cascading through my entire being. It crashes over the crawling sensation with such force the magic from thekylixdisintegrates.
Moments of tense silence pass, and throughout them all, I refuse to drop the Eagle’s gaze. Refuse to let even a sliver of the confusion whirling inside me slip past my defenses.
Eventually, the lingering sensations fade entirely, and Lord Malis drops his eyes from me. I inhale sharply with relief as the sound of a quill scratching against parchment penetrates the pounding of my heart in my ears.
“Welcome to the Aviary, Starling. May your flight be long.”
Starling.
I pass the name back and forth in my mind as I lie in my bed, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling.
I savor it.Despise it.
Twist it back and forth to examine each letter and syllable, uncertain whether the thrill it evokes outweighs the sorrow.
How is one meant to react when told—yet again—to leave behind the life they have always known? To cast it off like an old, ragged garment for a shiny new one? How many more times will it take until the fabric of who I am is worn thin, until the threads unravel and scatter so far that I can no longer weave them back into something recognizable?
Most likely, I should be filled with pride and anticipation. But I’ve always seen this new garment for what it is—made from the finest fabric yet fastened with a clasp of broken glass, waiting to slice into my throat.
The image of Luci’s prone body on the marble floor flashes through my mind once again. The sound of her choking sobs reverberates through my skull, and the cold, unfeeling words that followed echo endlessly.
Such a shame.
I’m more than accustomed to the brutality of the Aviary. I’ve been on the receiving end of Lord Malis’s ire more times than I care to remember. I’ve spent days locked in cells without food or water as punishment and been manacled withgoiteíacuffs that burned my skin and left me feeling sick and hollow. I’ve endured all this and more in the name of building resilience and instilling obedience.
Over time, the initial shock has faded, giving way to a smoldering anger I can’t quite contain. I find myself caught between the determination of my younger self, desperate to prove my worth, and the resentment that now lingers in my present.
A sharp tap comes from my door, and I drag myself out of bed with a sigh. I trudge to the door, my fingertips brushing the spot where I have my dagger hidden beneath my linen pants, and crack it open. I pull it wider when I find an Owl peering back at me.
“The Eagle commands your presence.” His tone is hushed, but it quivers with urgency.
I peer over his shoulder, unease curling in my stomach when I see Nyssa hovering in the hall behind him. I arch a brow at her in question, and she returns it with a shrug, no more enlightened than I am as to why we’re being summoned in the middle of the night. Calliope’s words warp through my mind, but not once had she mentioned Nyssa. So, perhaps this summons is about something else entirely?
“Now.” The Owl’s demand cuts through my thoughts before he turns on his heel and starts striding down the hall.
I slip out of my room and pull the door shut, falling into step beside my friend. “Any idea what this is about,Sparrow?” It’s strange to call her by her new name. In my heart and mind, she will always be Nyssa to me, regardless of what the Aviary commands.
She groans under her breath. “Of all the birds in the realm, I get named after the plainest one. Why couldn’tIbe called Starling? Or Falcon?”
“I think it’s cute.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Nyssa turn her head to glare at me. “No red-blooded woman aspires to be thought of ascute,El.”
I bite my lip to hold in a laugh. “It could be worse,” I offer with a shrug.
“Yeah, like what?”
“I hear there’s a species of bird common in Reveza called a dickcissel.”
Nyssa makes a choking sound and slams a palm over her mouth, smothering her laughter. “Okay, you’re right. I’ll take Sparrow overthatany day.”
The Owl leads us up the stairs, and we trail behind him in silence up to the eastern tower, where the masters reside. My shoulders tighten with each step, the earlier unease chased away by our lighthearted chatter creeping back in. Nyssa’s hand slips into mine, and she gives my fingers a gentle squeeze, a small reminder that we’re not facing whatever is about to come alone. I throw her a grateful smile, but when our guide comes to a stop and raps his knuckles on a set of double doors emblazoned with an eagle, I let our hands fall apart.
Without so much as another glance in our direction, the Owl leaves, and a voice calls us in from the other side.
The scent of old books and parchment is the first thing I note as we enter Lord Malis’s dimly lit study. I take in the ancient relics and manuscripts lining the shelves, each one carrying the weight of centuries of history within its worn and tattered pages. It makes me question how so many rarities have made their way to this one room in our broken kingdom.
My gaze finally lands on Lord Malis as he looks up from his desk. The edges of his mouth curl into a sardonic smile as he gestures at the chairs facing him. We settle into them without a word as he watches us intently—a silent warning that any disobedience will result in swift punishment.
