“Is that so? The green-eyed one doesn’t seem to have any trouble. He’s been coming and checking on you quite frequently. Sleeping here with you sometimes.”
This statement was enough to pull her out of her anxiety for a moment. “Kaelan was sleeping here with me?”
“To aid in your healing. I don’t believe he meant to fall asleep, but the large one has been working him quite hard. The Prince complains to the winged one often about it.”
She shook her head and refocused. She could climb down a silly ladder. It wasn’t that far to the branch, hardly higher than when she was in her tower on the beach.
Once, after getting off duty, she’d flopped under an umbrella to take a nap and overheard a mom reminding her young daughter, who was afraid of wading into the surf, “Remember the story? The Little Engine? What did she say?”
The little girl shrugged, too caught up in her fears.
“I think I can. I think I can,” the mother reminded her. And then she took the girl’s hand and led her to the water. After a few minutes, the girl was squealing and running and splashing like all of the other kids.
Later, Magda had gone to the library and found the book in question. When she’d checked it out, the librarian had smiled and said, “I love this one. Can’t go wrong with a classic like this.”
Magda had read it over and over and over. While she knew it was meant for children, it had struck her.
Humans taught their children that they could accomplish great deeds, even when the odds were against them—in fact, especially then. She’d heard it over and over again at the beach from parents, “Just try.”
But as a child, Magda had not been taught to try. She’d been told what to do, and she was expected to do it. She either failed or succeeded. Nor had there been an expectation that anyone could do anything beyond what was dictated by their race or status. A Rae must fight to become Radiant, because that was what Raes did. And if the time came, the Radiant must contend for the Crown.
Not until her exile had it occurred to her that it was possible to be something other than what she’d been born to be.
As she climbed down the ladder, hands slick with sweat and arms trembling, she repeated the phrase, “I think I can. I think I can.”
Once on the branch, which was wide and flat, worn down like a path, she encountered another ladder. Down and down, all the while queasy and light-headed and far-too weak, until at last, the ground.
Mossy, damp, sweet-scented, the earth had never been so beautiful. Sinking against the deeply ridged bark of the tree’s trunk, she let out a grateful sigh.
A leathery, bat-winged creature with dark green skin and huge green eyes zipped by and then looped back and came to a hovering halt before her.
“You’re awake!” the imp squeaked.
It zoomed away again.
Hero leapt from her shoulder before she could question him about the imp and disappeared into the thick ferns that pocked the forest of giant trees.
A moment later, Kaelan appeared with Damion close at his heels. Both of them were shirtless, sweat-slick, and carrying their swords. Kaelan sported a number of superficial wounds and many, many bruises. Damion’s torso was as scarred as his face, but showed no recent injuries.
Behind them, the green-eyed imp bobbed, her leathery wings flapping quickly to keep her aloft.
Damion stowed his swords and knelt before her. “Mistress—”
“Damn it, Damion. Can’t you just call me Magda?”
“No.”
Kaelan knelt beside her as well.
“Put those things away when you approach a Rae.” Damion flung his hand towards the swords in Kaelan’s hands.
“Oh...” With an awkward backward thrust of his arms, he hid the swords away.
Damion frowned at him, but refrained from further comment, though Magda could tell from the steep peak of his brow that keeping his mouth shut strained him.
“You shouldn’t have climbed down on your own,” Kaelan told her.
“How are you feeling?” The imp landed and waddled over to Kaelan on bandy legs. The deep creases on her bald forehead showed concern. Her ears were overlarge and floppy, drooping off the sides of her head. Her nose was nothing more than a pug’s, and she had no lips to speak of to conceal a mouth of very sharp teeth. A hairless tail lashed behind her naked, squat body. Both her hands and feet were webbed with sharp claws.
