WREN
The moment the air witch landed on our platform, I knew she carried important news.
Air witches never looked rattled. Wind magic tended to smooth the edges off people—made them calm, airy, untouchable, but Yenna’s silver braid was wind-snarled, and her cheeks were flushed from flying too fast. She landed on trembling feet, breath steaming in the cooling dusk air. The moment our eyes met, my stomach lurched hard enough to make my stitches burn.
“Wren,” she gasped, bowing quickly. “A message from King Georg of Hoveria.”
Hoveria.
The mountain kingdom with cold rock and old echoes. Those haunted halls were where I’d killed Benedict’s brother and became who I was truly meant to be.
My wings twitched painfully. The child in me rolled, sensing the spike in my fear even from my belly.
“Tell me,” I whispered, the words scraping out raw.
The witch swallowed. “Ronan is safe. The child—Perri—is alive.”
My knees gave out.
Kieran caught me before I hit the floor, arms wrapping around my waist and pulling me against his warm chest. Relief detonated through me so abruptly it bordered on pain.
Benedict, who had been sharpening a dagger in the corner out of sheer nervous energy, dropped it. The blade clattered across the floor.
“And Veskor?” he demanded.
The air witch hesitated.
“Alive,” she said finally. “Barely. They found him half-frozen in the snow. Ronan insists on bringing him back.”
I shut my eyes. A thick, unfamiliar heaviness settled over my ribs—not sympathy, exactly, but something close. Something … happy. Proud.
Yes, Ronan.
And yet, the feeling was conflicting. Veskor had taken a child and torn open our wards. He’d caused the vampyre attacks and nearly killed Ronan. Hehadkilled Anar.
And yet …
He had not killed Perri.
I sighed. The world wasn’t supposed to be this complicated.
“King Georg offers hospitality, healing, and shelter until the storm breaks. He urges that no one attempt any journey until the weather improves. He also sends congratulations on the upcoming birth, and wishes to meet the child whenever is convenient.”
I grinned at the invitation from my first friend.
Benedict bristled beside me, ready to argue, ready to fly into the teeth of a mountain blizzard just to feel like he wasdoing something in order to confront Veskor and bring him to justice, but I caught his wrist.
“No,” I said softly. “He’s right.”
His throat worked. “Wren?—”
“I want Ronan and that child home more than anything,” I said, “but I want them home alive. And I’m sure Ronan has his reasons for bringing Veskor. I trust him.”
He exhaled hard, jaw flexing. Not agreeing with me, but not refusing either.
Yenna nodded and took off again, a swirl of wind and feathers, leaving us on the platform in strained, aching silence.
Nerissa’s voice floated up to me from beneath our platform, angry.
