The firebird opens her beak, and a melodious sound spills out of her. It rises and falls, cascading through the air, with notes that seem to carry me away to a different place, where loss and grief have no hold. Tears glaze my eyes as I listen. This is why the Order bans art, and music, and dance. Because this sound, and the feeling it invokes in me, is far beyond their dominion.
They can control our bodies and our minds, but they can’t control our hearts.
When she’s finished, the firebird slowly lowers her head.
Heart pounding, I extend my hand, my fingers reaching for her like stalks to sunlight. The firebird leans closer and bumps her head against my hand. A thrilling rush goes through me. I push up onto my toes to meet her. Stone crumbles as she tightens her grip on the wall and lowers her head until its level with mine.
“Your name should be Heulwen,” I whisper. “Blessed by the sun.”
I gently run my fingers along her feather-soft neck, and she seems to rumble in contentment.
“What a gorgeous creature,” Taliesin murmurs from over my shoulder.
I look back at him. His gaze is locked on me. And for wild, dangerous moment, I’m sure he’s not referring to the firebird. I think he’s talking about me.
Heat crawls up my neck, and I can’t seem to look away. He edges closer, the powerful lines of his chest pressing against my back. All my nerve-endings seem to ignite, like flint striking dry timber. If I’m not careful, it will catch and consume me. And leave behind nothing but ash.
Us meeting will be the undoing of both of us.
I flinch at the memory of his words, then step away. “I need to tell you something.”
“All right,” he says, grim resignation in his voice. “Let’s get this over with.”
His eyes track me as I climb onto the low, broken rampart and turn to face the sea, wind rustling the loose strands of my dark hair. Taliesin hoists himself up beside me. He’s silent while I find my words. How do you tell someone you intended to not only kill him but turn him into a revenant with no free will?
I shudder involuntarily. Oaths are meaningless, but I still wish I could take that one back. I should have never made that kind of promise, especially when, deep down, I knew how wrong it was.
Far too long passes before I speak. So long the sun is nothing more than a dash of pink across the horizon, and the sky at large is an all-consuming darkness. A reflection of my soul, it feels like.
Eventually, I find a place to begin. “The Order sent me to kill you.”
“I know that, Swynwraig,” he says softly.
“Do you know the rest of it?” I ask, daring to look at him. “What else they wanted me to do?”
He searches my gaze, keeping his expression stonily blank. “I have my suspicions. I hope I’m wrong.”
My jaw clenches. “You’re not wrong.”
“Fucking stars, Swynwraig,” he says roughly.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Osian did die, like I said, but then I resurrected him. So now they’re experimenting on him. They said if I brought them someone else, they’d let him go.”
“Hmm.” A beat passes. “Would you have done it?
“What?”
“If it meant saving him.”
Yes.The word catches in my throat. I can’t seem to force it out. So instead, I say, “I wouldn’t. Not now.”
His gaze doesn’t soften. “That isn’t what I asked.”
“I didn’t know you then,” I whisper, my heart pounding.
“That’s not quite true, and you know it,” he says, louder now. “You knew me. You just didn’t remember.”
My hands clench around the rampart. “That’s not fair. I was just trying to survive and save the only person who has ever truly loved me.”
