The room falls eerily silent.
“Dylan!” The innkeeper cries, hurrying to him. She grips his shoulders and clutches him to her bosom. A protective edge hardens her voice. “Tell me what’s happened, boy.”
“One of our horses got out,” he mumbles, almost too soft to hear. “I went looking for him. Found him up on the hill. A piece of him, anyway.”
“Rebels.” The angry hiss comes from the couple.
I turn, surprised. They’ve already pushed back their chairs and are halfway across the room. The stranger from the corner follows close behind. As he passes, his cloak swings wide, revealing the hilt of a sword.
They rush into the night. The door slams hard behind them.
The innkeeper’s hands tremble as she wipes them on her apron, her face as white as bones. Gently, she leads the stableboy to the bar, where she pours him a brimming tankard of ale. Everyone else moves to the windows. I follow, peering through the foggy glass, expecting to see nothing but darkness.
And for a long while, I don’t.
Then a plume of fire races across the hill, illuminating three crouched figures taking cover in the long grass.
A screech rips through the night.
And as the flames gutter, their dying light falls upon a creature bearing orange and golden feathers. Talons arc toward the figures. The final flame blinks out, blanketing the hill in heavy darkness once more.
My breath goes still in my lungs.
This is no rebel attack. The firebirds have come.
5
“It can’t be,” someone whispers. “Firebirds don’t come this far north.”
He’s right. They don’t. And they usually don’t venture into the midlands, either. It’s been years since I’ve spotted one near Caer Draen. Osian often jokes they were smart enough to finally abandon this dreary, war-torn continent for warmer climes.
I find myself crossing the floor and stepping into the biting cold, gazing in the direction of the fire. It’s far too dark now, and the howling wind drowns out any sounds of a fight. For a long moment, I stand there frozen, uncertain what to do—if there’s anything I evencando.
It’s not like I would fare any better against a firebird than those three would, and yet I can’t shake the feeling I should dosomething.
If Osian were here, he would.
A screech echoes from somewhere nearby.
Run,my body urges. But my mind screams at me to stay still. The last thing I want is to catch the attention of a firebird. All I have is a dagger—Seren and Lowri refused to let me bring asword. Not that I would ever use either against these creatures. They’re sacred.
The wind scrapes against me, and I shudder. Another plume of fire ripples across the distant hill. This time, there’s no sign of the cloaked man or the couple. Have they gotten away?
A sudden wall of heat slams into my back, the acrid scent of fire enveloping me. A feral growl rumbles only steps behind.
My body goes rigid. I can’t breathe. Or even think. My gaze snaps to the open door. Only a few small steps, and I can be back inside the inn, where it’s safe. Our stone buildings were built to withstand nearly anything, even a firebird’s flames.
Another hot breath caresses my neck.
Swallowing, I slowly turn toward the creature. Nearly as tall as the tower, she takes up my entire field of vision. Her orange feathers shimmer, even in the darkness.
Gleaming black eyes stare down at me. Saliva drips from her mouth and sizzles where it hits the ground. Slowly—so slowly I’m not certain what I’m doing at first—I lower to one knee and bow.Blasphemy.Treason. Betrayal to our king.
The firebird hums. The sound rises and falls like a melody, cascading all around me. I shudder, overwhelmed as raw emotion swells in my chest. It almost sounds like…like a song.
I breathe it in. It’s been so long since I’ve heard music that wasn’t approved by the Order.
“Get away from her!” The roar comes from behind the firebird.
