Page 79 of Ruby & Onyx

I owe her more than a simple favor for this. I owe her my life.

* * *

Gemma managed to coerce one of the stable boys into letting us use two horses. It would be better to walk, but we’d never make it on foot. Not in Gemma’s current state, anyway. And horses are less conspicuous than carriages.

As her wings curl tight into her back, bracing against the wind, I realize that she probably could have flown to Guylita’s and must be riding just for my sake.

Miles from the palace, down the barren paths of the deadwoods, and into the eerily quiet forest, we gallop. Bobbing up and down to the horse’s movements side by side.

At some point in the middle of nowhere, we slow down to get a break. She wipes her brow and says, “V and I used to ride together when were kids, before… we came here. It feels nostalgic to be back on a horse.”

I smile, reliving a similar memory. “My father was a stable master. He loved horses more than anything - well, more than anything but us. My mom used to go out to the stables to honor my father after he passed. But after she died too, I lost all interest in it. It felt like a cruel joke to go riding alone. Everywhere I went, I saw their faces. Etched into trees. Painted in the mud. Even formed in the clouds. Their portraits followed me like ghosts. I couldn’t face it alone.”

She catches my eye as she says, “You’re not alone, Radya. Both V and I are here for you – not as lady’s maids, but as your friends. Truly.”

I can tell she means it. Tears sting my eyes, and I have to wipe them away, smearing the salty liquid onto the back of my hand. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

And when she smiles, one little word echoes in my mind, friends.

“Tell me about Procullia.” The land from which they were stolen.

“It’s much warmer than it is here and very humid. The summers feel like stepping into a swamp. But it’s green and hilly, perfect for riding. We’re a peaceful country, maybe a bit proud,” she tells me. “What about Carcera?”

“It’s the opposite – flat and dark,” I tell her. “You know, I used to dream of escaping. I thought if I could be somewhere else, then I might finally find a sense of belonging. I was a square stuck in a circle, never able to flatten my hard edges. Then I came here and a small part of me hoped that I could mold myself to Somne and become the person they wanted me to be. But I feel even less at home here. And I… worry that the place isn’t the problem. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

She chews on her bottom lip as she bobs to the horse’s movements. “Sometimes I think that I might be a square, too. But just because I’m surrounded by people who aren’t like me doesn’t mean that there’s something wrong with me. It just means that I’m with the wrong people.”

A tiny, dilapidated cottage comes into view. Gemma’s slowing horse confirms that it belongs to Guylita. I search the premises for any sign of the invisibles. Unless they’re hiding behind the trees in this dense forest, then we’re in the clear.

“Thank you,” I tell her before dismounting. “Not just for helping me meet with Guylita, but for being a friend.”

“There’s no need for thanks.” She swings her leg over and hops off, letting her fluttering wings soften her landing. “Now, let’s get this over with and never talk about this business again.” Her voice hitches on the word business like she’s afraid that the trees might be listening.

I follow her to the cottage, where Gemma nervously knocks on Guylita’s weather-worn door. The frame quakes at her touch, and I worry that the whole house might crumble. A couple of minutes go by without an answer, so I take a turn banging my fist on the door. “Guylita? Are you there?” The silence is heavy and waiting for her to answer is like sinking into a dark abyss. “My name is Radya. We were supposed to speak at the ball last night, but you left before we had a chance.”

“I have a bad feeling,” Gemma says quietly. “We should leave.”

“Let me try one more time.” I bang even harder against the wood until my knuckles turn red.

Nothing.

A high-pitched yowl breaks the bitter silence, sending a pulse of fear zipping up my spine. I know that sound. Another one joins in, and then another, and then another. One after the other, the concos join together to sing their battle cry.

“Gemma, we have to go. Now!” The fear in my eyes must be clear because she doesn’t hesitate to lunge straight for my hand to pull me toward the horses. We spring into action, abandoning our mission without another thought.

The horses are vocalizing their fear when we reach them, as if they know what’s coming. My hands can’t seem to move fast enough as I untie them from the tree. The howling turns into more of a vicious bark that’s drawing nearer with every second. The thud of their large paws against the dirt reverberates through the forest. This must be a pack. Larger than any pack I’ve ever seen, at that.

“Quick, Radya! Do you need help?”

“No, no! I got it!” As the last loop loosens, my eye catches on the rustling trees. They’re getting closer. I estimate at least twenty of them. The first one appears across the clearing. It stops, snarling and baring its great white fangs, and seems to wait on the rest of the pack.

I haven’t moved. My mind is stuck – suspended in limbo between fight and flight. I can hear Gemma’s screams, telling me to get on my horse, begging me to snap out of this stupor, but my feet refuse. They’re frozen with fear.

“Please! Just get on your horse so we have a chance of getting out of here alive!” She says through the tears streaking down her face. In my moment of mental purgatory, I see the scene unfolding in front of us in what feels like slow motion. I imagine their claws digging into our skin, shredding us into ribbons.

The fear in Gemma’s voice ignites something inside of me, pulling me out of the darkness, and urging me to protect my friend. I owe her my life, and I will do anything for her.

I close my eyes and drown out the noise of the herd getting closer, focusing only on my mind space. The pulsating fear gathers into a fiery orb inside my mind, and I grab it, allowing the heat to flow from my brain down to my fingertips. It’s powerful and intense, ready to be seized. When I open my eyes and see more concos appearing, now running toward us, I push the heat out through my hands.

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