Page 45

“We should arrive by nightfall,” Lyxander says, drawing my attention back to him.

“What should I expect?” I ask. I try to imagine it: lamplight caught behind shutters, breath fogging in doorways, the worn warmth of a place that belongs to someone. To him. But the image warps awkwardly in my mind.

A muscle jumps in Lyxander’s jaw; his gaze slides past my shoulder to the abyss and back. He looks like a man bracing against a storm he knows is coming. His lips part as though words are on the edge of spilling out.

A cry slices the air.

Low and guttural and pained.

It echoes along the ridge and splinters against the cliff, leaving a ringing behind that raises the hairs along my arms. I reach for my dagger, and my theïkós stirs, a feathered lift at the edge of my senses.

Silver threads shiver through the air, then still before fading from my vision.

Another cry echoes. This time, there’s a raggedness to it. My body tightens, the sound dragging every nerve taut. Before Lyxander can call after me, I’m already moving, heedless of the snow and loose stones shifting beneath my boots.

I round an outcrop and skid to a halt, my chest heaving.

A feline is slumped in the snow, its white fur streaked with blood where a vicious trap is clamped around its hind leg. The creature is huge. I suspect it would almost reach the same height as Klem when standing, but its wings are half-furled at its back, and it trembles with the effort to stay upright. Golden eyes meet mine, wide with pain and fury. For a moment, the world narrows to the slow, labored rise and fall of its chest and the tremor in its limbs as it struggles against the cruel metal teeth.

It snarls, and the sound vibrates through the stone beneath my feet. It’s a warning, a promise of what it could do if it weren’t bound by the cruel metal teeth of the trap.

“Aella,” Lyxander says carefully. “Back away.”

I should, but the winged feline’s gaze holds me captive.

It’s trapped. Terrified.

Swallowing hard, I take a tentative step forward. My hands lift slowly, palms out, as if the creature could understand the gesture.

“Easy,” I soothe, my voice hardly audible over the wind.

The feline growls again, its wings flaring, and I freeze. My heart pounds in my chest, but I don’t back away. I wait, holding my breath, until the growl fades into a low, rumbling grumble.

I take another step, then another, moving slowly, carefully. Each time the feline grumbles, I pause, waiting for it to settle before inching closer. My knees threaten to buckle as I finally reach the trap, the size of the creature overwhelming up close.

I hold its golden gaze as I kneel and reach for the rusted metal. The edges are jagged, biting into my gloves as I try to pry it open. The hinges resist, and I grit my teeth, pulling harder.

A sharp pain lances through my palm as one of the trap’s teeth slices through the leather of my glove. I hiss, jerking my hand back, and blood wells up, bright against the torn fabric.

“It’s not going to budge,” I mutter, my voice tight with frustration. I glance over my shoulder at Lyxander, who stands a few paces back, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I need something to lever it open.”

He hesitates, his silver eyes flicking between me and the feline, before he strides forward. The feline growls low in its throat as he approaches, its molten gaze fixed on him, but it doesn’t move.

Lyxander kneels beside me, unbuckling his short sword. He leaves it sheathed as he wedges it into the trap’s jaws. “Hold it steady.”

I take hold of the bottom part, ignoring the sting in my palm as I brace it. Lyxander leans his weight into the sword, the metal groaning in protest, before the trap finally snaps open with a harsh clang.

The feline jerks free, its claws scraping against the rock as it scrambles to its feet. It stands there, its wings half spread, its eyes locked on mine. Then, with a powerful beat of its wings, it leaps into the air, disappearing over the ridge in a flurry of snow and wind.

I sit back on my heels, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

“What was that?” I ask, glancing at Lyxander.

“A leonai,” he says, a faint crease in his brow. “They live high up in the mountains, far beyond where we are now. It’s rare to see one this far down.”

“Why would it come down here?”

“Perhaps it was exiled. Leonai are honorable creatures, and they have hierarchies within their herds. It wasn’t fully grown, so it could have challenged the wrong one and been driven out.”