I stepped from the water, sleek stones threatening to drag me back under as I positioned myself on one of the bigger ones. “You know the story.”
With a single nod, his grin faltered, shoulders hunching forward like the image of how he found me pressed upon him still. “Do you wish to know mine?”
I hesitated. Everything in me wanted to say no, that I didn’t care about the pain and mourning he carried. That he deserved every awful thing he had withstood.
But my lips betrayed me, because I wasn’t sure that was true. “Sure.”
He turned and I could only stare. My stomach clenched, the despair so sharp it bordered on sickness.
Stumps.
Smooth, polished ivory bone, cruelly sawed down. All that remained of wings that had once cut through an empire suspended beyond reach.
His legacy had said he rose from ashes, cursed to be reborn again and again in mortal ruin. His ears revealed the lie, but it must have felt like mortality, that stripping. That fall. To be born conquering the sky in celestial grace, only to reawaken to a world all too grounded.
Even after that destruction, he didn’t let his rebirth decay. He had taken that collapse and worn it with dignity. Created a new name for himself, one that ran tremors of fear down every spine when they heard it.
The Phoenix felt more fitting.
I sucked in a breath as his shirt fell back into place, hiding the stumps, hiding what the world had stolen. Concealing the memory of who he once was.
“I’m sorry,” was all I could say.
Easing himself onto the rock beside me, he arched his neck, the light catching the movement, beaming on a small mark inked behind his ear.
“Don’t feel bad.” He leaned back on his palms. The shift drew every line of muscle taut against his arms. Strength flexed beneath his skin, tendons jutting like cords pulled too tight. “Took a while to get used to. But I found a greater purpose for myself.”
I arched a brow, plucking a cluster of berries from the bush at my side. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”
He only winked, the answer locked behind his grin as his hand shot out, slapping the berries from my grip. “Don’t eat those.”
I scowled, hunger gnawing greedily at my ribs.
His hand lingered, outstretched between us. “Come on,” he said, the invitation patient and gleaming with lake light. “I have a better idea.”
The humidity this far south was thick with damp heat, even with the subtle temperature drop at night. I sank back on my elbows, distancing myself from the campfire as it burned low, my chin tipping toward the boundless night.
The arc of moonlight was centered high above, rivers of blue marbling across its glow. The godstars kept vigil, scattered around it in shimmering fragments.
My eyes drifted in between sleep and reality as I let myself breathe in the air of a new night.
Sadly, Ford’s incessant snoring kept me from drifting too far. Sleep had stopped coming easy to everyone, though he seemed to have no trouble curled up by the fire like Elva’s damn cat.
Wells sat quieter than usual. The blood no longer trickled, but I could see its stain, even if the others couldn’t. He smiled when Elva joked beside him, but it was small, a flicker, nothing more.
He rose swiftly after, stating how he was going to try to get a few hours of sleep before dawn.
I turned, meeting Elva’s eyes for a moment, returning the soft smile she lent me. Maybe she saw it too, what was happening to Wells. She kissed my cheek once before standing and disappearing into her own tent.
Ronan stretched his wings wide, shadows fanning across the clearing.
Even after nearly a month of traveling with him it was impossible not to stare. They were not only magnificent but terrifying. And had only come out at night. Darkness curved with the stretch of bone, but in the flame, membranes shone with hints of emerald.
Elysian sat far back in his shadows, as if the warmth would melt him entirely.
Wouldn’t surprise me.
His eyes were closed as he sat perched against a tree facing into the forest, but I knew he was awake. Every now and then white fur would appear across his neck or fingers, and he would subtly brush it away.
