When they landed, she ate, stretched, and ran through her training sets. She slept mostly while they were in the air, so that she could complete her exercises. Her body ached, both from the long hours spent flying and the exertion of training.
Flor would sit by, either barking orders or asking Honey to contact various long-dead family members.
Most of the time, the nymph claimed not to be able to reach them, but some she did. The information, the memories, that Honey relayed was convincing. And yet, for some reason, Magda remained leery.
Hero stayed a fixture on Honey’s shoulder. Magda didn’t ask him to return to her. If he preferred the nymph’s company, she couldn’t blame him. Her mood certainly hadn’t been growing brighter as they neared the Spire.
Damion and Kaelan joined her in training when they didn’t sleep. She took turns knocking Kaelan on his ass and then getting knocked on her own ass by Damion.
The knit of his brow told her he was worried by her slow reflexes and failure to consistently defeat him. Not that she failed utterly, but her body seemed reticent to return to the honed and deadly fast switchblade it had once been. Bit by bit though, she could feel it happening, the surface hardening. After everything she’d been through since her return, the woman she’d become in exile was sinking away, like someone drowning under thickening ice.
Early on the afternoon of the third day, they landed on a ridge not far from a road, where two rounded white wicker-wood carriages waited. The horses skittered, held by wide-eyed Pixie drivers. Meer stood atop one of the carriages, arms folding and unfolding with an air of impatience.
Magda and Kaelan dismounted. She pressed her forehead against Gur, allowing her old soft self one last moment so her affection and thanks could flow into the semargl. He purred, nuzzling into her armor.
“I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy walking again,” Flor said, brushing back her side-swept bangs. She hadn’t taken her hair as short as Magda’s, which was shaved close to the scalp at the back. Still, the sharp straight locks brushing the matriarch’s chin would prove a shock at court, which had been entirely the point of course. Magda just hoped it would work as Flor intended.
Magda approached Anqa charily as Damion and Honey slid off of the great gold-eyed bird. She pressed her hand gently to the sleek feathers of the roc’s neck and offered her gratitude.
An odd flurry of images spilled from Anqa’s mind into hers, but all Magda could gather from them was that the roc would come again, if needed.
Magda thanked her again and backed away.
Anqa squawked, wings spreading wide, and then turned and took flight. Gur lingered a moment longer, gaze roving over each of them before he, too, flew off.
“The Rae, the Prince, and I will ride in this coach,” Flor said. “Damion, you and Honey will ride behind.”
“Do I have to ride inside?” Damion said, frowning. “I hate carriages.”
“Yes, you do,” Flor said.
He deflated.
“I’m sorry we cannot all ride together,” Flor said to Honey, “but it would be inappropriate for a Rae to arrive within the Spire’s walls with her attendants in the same carriage.”
From the corner of her eye, Magda caught the drivers gaping openly at them. She almost laughed.
Seven years ago, if she’d seen a Rae with short hair flying on a lion-semargl with a Prince thought dead, his eccentric short-haired mother, a scarred warrior, and a misty-eyed nymph wearing a rat on her shoulder, she probably would’ve gawked too. But mostly it reminded her that every moment from this time forward, she would be watched.
Drawing back her shoulders, she recomposed her face into an impassive mask.
“Mother Flor, please,” she said, stepping aside as the driver opened the carriage door.
The interior was airy with an abundance of windows. The seats were lined with gray satin.
“You honor me, Mistress,” Flor said with a bow.
She held out her hand for Kaelan to assist her. It took him a moment to reach out and offer his hand. Magda bit back a grimace. His single hesitation had already put a chip in this tenuous façade. If anyone thought that the judgments of the servants wouldn’t have an impact upon the nobles, then they knew nothing of how gossip spread at court.
“Oh dear, my sweet boy,” Flor said with effortless grace as she took his hand. “I can see your long years in exile have left your finer sensibilities in a terrible muddle.”
He pursed his lips, but said nothing.
“Worry not,” she said as she alit. “Everyone will be so delighted at your miraculous return, I’m sure they’ll all forgive your brutish human-like manners.”
At the wordhumanthe driver’s eyes rounded.
In the Pixie world, humans offered a kind of taboo thrill. Flor, as removed as she’d been from the rest of society all these years, had been quite genius in bringing up humans, associating that intrigue with Kaelan’sfaux pas. Magda had a feeling the wordhumanwould be mentioned at every turn no matter where she and Kaelan went.
