I’d been there with Brighid, through her suffering. How did I face her again, knowing what that man had done to her?
The wooden walkway creaked, and I looked up. A flickering black shape moved toward me, visible only when it passed beneath a white fire lantern. The flames dispelled its shadow cloak, revealing black scales and bone-white antlers.
Brilliant pink and purple scales coated the undersides of its double wings. The scáde spread them wide, as if bidding hello, before tucking them against its body. I shifted back against the tree as it came near.
The enormous beast sat beside me, like a loyal hound. Lowering itself, it laid its head across my lap.
I felt its throat vibrate against my legs as it sang. The tune was unlike anything I’d heard before. Wavering, sad, comforting.
Reaching out a tentative hand, I placed it on the beast’s head. It had no eyes, and yet . . . it peered into mine—a beast of the shadows, a monster born from evil, and saw me for who I truly was.
A woman without a home, cursed by the darkness. Broken and battered. Afraid of the truth inside.
Desperately in need of a friend.
“I came at you with a sword,” I muttered, stroking its head. “Why do you like me so much?”
The scáde huffed. Warm air billowed across my chest.
“I think.” Bláth’s warm voice emerged from the night. “She might have bonded with you.” The Solheart woman ducked into the lantern light, hands tucked in her deep purple coat.
“Bláth.” I sat up. “How did you?—”
“How do you think we get to our base and back?” Bláth nodded at the scáde and sat beside me. Her warmth spilled over me like a blanket.
Brighid wasn’t far behind her, though the redhead elected to remain under the lantern.
My throat tightened at the sight of her.
A gale tore through the city, nearly soundless. Brighid wrapped her cloak around her, red skirt billowing in the breeze.
“How many scádes does this place have, anyway?” She asked.
“Fifteen, I think,” Bláth answered, shifting to sit cross-legged. “They don’t bond often, but when they do, they stick around forever.” She sighed. “Out of all the Solhearts here, I still can’t believe Quinn is the one who bonded one.”
Looking down, I swallowed. “Alistair is part of this, then?”
Bláth’s eyes flicked down to where he'd wounded me. “Yes. He's . . . aggressive. Overly so.”
“I’d say.” Brighid placed a hand on her hip. “He risked everything—notably Lady Ethna’s ire— to get petty revenge on Reese.”
“I can’t wrap my head around you knowing everything we’ve been through.”
“The part where you rolled around in an alley with Liam was most entertaining.”
Lifting my head, I arched an eyebrow. Bláth made a face. “It was not like that, and you know it.”
Brighid chuckled.
"But . . . ” Bláth wrung her hands together. "Alistair isn't a bad man—far from it. He's passionate about what we do, about saving others. He led the Sun Chasers before coming here."
"Sun Chasers?" I echoed.
"Quinn, Alistair, and Reese were its founding members, along with a woman you haven't met." Bláth leaned her head against the tree and stared up at the starless sky. "They fought back against the Lecovair. Against the nobles, the corrupt priests, and anyone who hurt those who lived in the slums. Half-bloods. Whores."
"Yes." Brighid rolled her eyes. "Valiant heroes who protected the innocent and vulnerable. Futile idealism."
My hands tightened around the scáde's neck, and I let out a small gasp.
