Besides, I’d bring Ilae with me too. With his keen eyesight and speed of flight, Sylaira was as good as mine by morning.
“Not at all. We’ll see you tomorrow then,” Maelsar chuckled, sauntering through the courtyard and out into the grassy lawn where the others waited.
The moment he was out of view, I reached for Sylaira’s bag and brought it to my nose again. The cool, peachy scent heated my blood. Like a ghostflower, the Seer had been elusive, blooming sporadically and retreating before I reached her meadow.
But no longer.
Something clinked in the bag, and I dug into a pocket, pulling out several small vials containing clipped leaves. Uncorking one, I brought it to my lips and sniffed. The astringent scent of virelthorn was unmistakable.
A sinister laugh rumbled in my chest.
So the little fugitive didn’t want to See?
Judging by the quantity, she’d be desperate for some of her herbs within days.
And I’d be happy to provide them…for a price.
7
The sharp, snow-covered ridges of the Skala Mountains loomed no closer even after nearly an entire day of flying toward them. As dusk swallowed light, I banked toward a copse of trees, clinging to a fervent hope that they would guard me from the elements.
I wasn’t close enough to Vaelsur yet. I’d never been to the mountain temple, but I knew its location from the detailed map of the Angel Realm I had memorized. All of the Elessarum knew it by heart; without that knowledge, we would have all been captured and exterminated years ago.
If I could only reach it, I’d find haven, however temporary it might be.
Even the Issaraeth wouldn’t dare desecrate such a holy place.
My shoulders ached as I came to rest, immediately banishing my wings. Days of fleeing with them left the muscles exhausted. The reserves of my magic were dangerously low,having danced in the well of my light to fuel each flap of feathers at my back. I needed to sleep, for that was the only way to restore what I had lost.
Gold flitted through twisted boughs as I spun a slow circle, gaining my bearings. The forest rolled uphill like a slow wave, and through the leaves, I spotted what appeared to be a small stream.
Thirst parched my throat. I hurried over to it, trampling through a few thorny bushes. A hiss slipped through my teeth as one snagged and tore my thin tights. “Damn,” I swore as red welled on my otherwise smooth skin. With a shake of my head, I trudged to the water, finding it bubbling over a tumble of rocks. It wasn’t nearly deep enough to cup my hands and drink.
With a huff, I stomped higher, seeking its source or a place where the glacial melt thickened. My stomach rumbled with a painful twist.
Surviving had always been hard when a bounty was on my head.
But this? This was a new challenge. I’d always hadsomethingorsomeone.
Now? I was entirely alone. I had no supplies. No bag. No waterskin. Novirelthorn.
Tears pricked my eyes. I sniffed, hard, to dispel them. Now was not the time. Not when I needed water, food, and shelter, in that order.
Are Heraphia and Zuriel okay?
The thought of my friends stabbed a dagger between my ribs. I’d left them behind. But what else could I have done?
Curse the Issaraeth and his hunters. I hoped the Goddess saw fit to rob him of his voice entirely one day.
A twig snapped, and I whirled around. White leaped to my fingertips, ready to shield myself against a Command. Instead, a doe, her ears forward and tense, greeted me. Air whooshedfrom my lungs as we regarded each other. Another crack sounded—smaller, fainter—and from the bramble, a fawn emerged, oblivious to the danger.
The mother stepped protectively in her baby’s direction. I dropped my magic and turned away from them, conveying that she was safe to race away, that no harm would come to either of them. My heart pounded against my chest as I waited for further sounds of them leaving. Slow, steady breaths dragged in and out of my nostrils as I calmed myself.
When I was certain they were far enough away, I picked up their trail. Surely, they’d been coming from a drinking spot?
After two more tears in my leggings, I finally stumbled upon a small pool hugging a rock face. From above, a trickle of water emerged. I nearly wept with relief. Crashing forward, I cupped my hands beneath the fresh flow. Greedy, icy gulps filled my mouth.
“Oh, Sylaira,” the Issaraeth crooned, his voice a velvet rumble rolling in from everywhere around me.
