“I know,” she says with a smirk. Her hazel eyes twinkle as she pushes past me—as easily as she shoved her way into my life so many years ago—and calls over her shoulder, “This was a more effective way to get your sorry ass out of bed.”
She saunters across the room and begins rummaging through my wardrobe. Nyssa is a maelstrom. She tears into your life like a raging wind, churning up the ocean with enough force to make the seafloor tremble. A storm of chaos that fills you with equal parts fear and excitement, both terrifying and beautiful to behold.
I wouldn’t have her any other way.
“What are you doing?” I ask, amusement tugging my lips into a smile despite the annoyance I try to clutch on to. As she guts my wardrobe like it’s her greatest adversary, the last threads slip through my fingers and dissipate.
“Emergency intervention. If I left these decisions up to you, you’d never have any fun.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” I scoff.
“If I’m so wrong…” Nyssa pauses her perusal of my clothing and quirks a brow at me over her shoulder. She’s already dressed for the night. Her curves are draped in a burgundy dress, the rich color blooming against her russet brown skin like wine poured over warm earth. She wears gold bangles around her wrists and has artfully threaded chains through the dark cinnamon curls cascading down her back. “Then tell me you didn’t finish your test, take on a sentry shift, and pass out upon returning to this little comfortable cave of yours.”
I fix my gaze on her, determined not to let my eyes wander to the nightstand, where the somniseed vials lie hidden. Guilt churns in my chest as my attention drops to the dusty linen pants and undershirt I collapsed in earlier. I know my silence will speak for me. She’ll take it as an admission that she’s right. Though I’ve shared my deepest secrets with her, confessing my dependence on the narcotic seed is a boundary I can’t bring myself to cross. I know she’d try to stop me; her concern for me would compel her to. But that’s precisely why I keep this truth locked away. I’m not addicted. Truly, I’m not. It’s just the only way I know to escape the memories that torment me in my sleep.
“That’s what I thought.” Her voice carries a note of finality, prompting me to look up just as she pulls a powder-blue dress from the wardrobe. She holds it against me, as if gauging how well it might fit.
My eyes drop to the dress, and a frown tugs at my lips.
“This one,” Nyssa states, draping it over my bed and pushing me toward the nook with the basin. “You have two minutes to wash the day’s dirt off. Don’t get your hair wet.”
“Nyssa, I really don’t—”
“Come on, just one drink and then you can leave,” she pleads. “This is the one night when the Aviary chooses to look the other way, and I know the others will want you there.”
The others.
My traitorous eyes drift back to the window—to the luminous stone walls of the palace. Walls separating me and the people I once cared for. After being sent to the Aviary, I felt each one of those losses like they were physical cracks in my heart.
A spider’s web of fractures.
It made me build my own walls. Brick by brick, surrounding myself to keep others out. It’s simpler that way.
But my mortar must be weak, because it disintegrates before Nyssa. After everything she has done for me, standing by my side time and again, offering this is the very least I can do for her.
Suppressing what feels like my hundredth groan of the day, I strip off my clothes and let them fall to the floor. The Aviary’s bathing roomsare communal, so I have no hesitation about baring myself, especially not in front of Nyssa.
The lure of the warm, gently steaming pools calls to me. A proper soak would be divine, washing away not just the grime but the fatigue weighing on me. With a wistful sigh, I push the thought aside. Grabbing the cloth hanging from the basin’s edge, I dampen it and methodically scrub every inch of my skin. When I turn back around, Nyssa has already laid out my clothing, accessories, and sandals, neatly arranged and ready for me.
“Have I told you lately how much you annoy me?” I ask.
“At least thirteen times this week.” Nyssa throws a towel, and I snatch it from the air before it hits me in the face.
“I heard a song today,” I say, drying myself off. The phrase is a significant one among Aviary members. It could either mean you have learned a piece of information you need to share, or it could confirm the other person you’re speaking with is a member of the order.
“Anything noteworthy?”
“The crew onThe Nightingalewere singing an interesting tune.”
“The ship Alpha Flight was aboard?”
“The same.” I worry my bottom lip, hesitating before my next words. “Apparently, they’re going back again. Soon.”
A small frown creases the space between her elegant brows. I hate seeing it there.Puttingit there. “Luc—Larkmentioned nothing.”
I smile at the way she fumbles over her brother’s name. Lucaz went through his Naming five years ago, and she’s never quite adjusted to calling him Lark. He’s been on countless missions since then, but it wasn’t until last year—after his promotion to Nightwing—that the Aviary assigned him to Alpha Flight and sent them across the sea. The past year has been challenging for her since it’s the longest time they have spent apart all their lives.
My breath stutters when what she said sinks in, and I peer up at her, my fingers curling around the rough fibers of the towel. “You’ve seen him?”
