Page 5 of Fae Exile

“I understand,” Roan said gently. “But wearein the Sorumbra. “There’s no feeling good about any of it.”

Pru shook her head violently, the stringy strands of her hair flicking her cheeks with each turn. “No, not the same. Somethingbadlives here.” She pounded a small fist against her bony chest. “Pru feels it, right here.”

Roan stared at her, deliberating as he tugged on the length of his stout beard. But from the front, Finnian said, “Then we keep going for now.”

Pru sighed in relief so stark her slim frame rose and fell. No one complained to have to keep going. Everyone here knew to value their instincts. In the Wilds, we listened to them even more closely. Any twinge of our gut, however faint, was a message we strove to interpret, and quickly.

We had to work to ensure our every next breath.

Finnian asked a vine to move, and when it refused he hacked it out of the way. It creaked in protest before rapidly retreating, causing Saffron to whine too.

“He’s still not himself,” Xeno commented, peering at the dragonling who rode the horse behind mine, though that much was obvious. “I don’t know how to help him out of it.”

Once more, I turned gingerly in my saddle.

Saffron was hunched, clutching the horn of the saddle with two clawed feet, as if at any moment his horse might fling him. His eyes were downturned, his wings held tightly to his back as he curled in on himself. Even the usually bright gold of his scales appeared muted, as if the light inside him had gone out.

The spots where manacles had rubbed his flesh raw had scabbed over, and new scales were in the process of unfurling. And yet the little dragon appeared as cowed as he had in the queen’s presence—and that of the pygmy ogres, her torturers of preference.

“Aw, Saffron,” I cooed. “You poor thing. You wanna ride up here with me?” The days in Nightguard where I’d been concerned about spoiling him were long gone.

“Wyn, no,” Xeno protested right away. “You’re still recovering.”

“I’ll be fine.” I smiled at Saffron, who considered me tentatively from under heavy lashes.

“You almostdied. How you didn’t is a fucking miracle bestowed by the dragons.”

“Yes, Xeno, trust me, I noticed. I can’t go an entire minute without remembering.”

Even without turning to look at him, I could feel his jaw clenching. I wasn’t the only one who could scarcely go an hour without recalling Rush’s betrayal.

“Then with more reason,” Xeno implored, “take it easy. Let yourself finish healing.”

I swiveled to face him. “And how long should I ‘take it easy’ so I can heal? Huh? It’s been, what? Three weeks?”

“Something like that.”

Xeno was as sharp as a glinting blade. He knew exactly how long it had been, trying to underplay the length of my recovery.

“I should’ve healed by now. We’re in the middle of what amounts to a war zone,” I whisper-shouted at my oldest friend. “I can’t afford to keep tiptoeing around like I’m made of glass.”

“And I can’t afford to have you hurt anymore,” he growled. “You pretty much died, Wyn. I’m gonna say it again ’cause I’m not sure you’re getting how insane that is.Dead. And then what would I have done without you?”

The edge on my frustration softened, not really directed at him in the first place. I placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, my grip still too gentle for someone who’d trained every day of her life never to be this weak.

“It’ll be okay,” I told him. “I’llbe okay.” I almost added,I promise, but held back. Since the queen had found out I existed, there were no guarantees.

“You’d better be.”

“I will be,” I echoed. “And for that, you need to let me do me, be myself.”

Xeno’s jaw flexed. “But ... you were literally hallucinating and talking gibberish just days ago. Mere days. You were hanging on by a thread. I still have no idea how you’re not falling out of that saddle.”

“I’m not ’cause I’m forged of the same stuff you are.”

Leading a pair of riderless horses, Reed and Pru edged around us to follow Finnian, but Roan and his pony waited. We had to hurry.

I added, “Remember all the shit Zako put me through?”

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