Page 42 of Wings of Cruelty and Flame

I nodded. “Twelfth.”

“A month after Kaawa’s,” Shula said almost absently, sending a jolt through my heart.

Naila’s birthday was September twelfth. Kaawa really was Naila. My cousin really was part of this legion.

“Why would she do those things? Why would she carry sensitive information to Kalder? I don’t understand. She was a hundred percent Ithanysian.” Unlike me. “She was loyal, and proud of it.”

Shula glanced away when I looked at her, begging for answers. “I don’t think I ever really knew her, so I can’t guess at why she betrayed us. She joined the army and the legion with the intention of treason.” Shula shook her head, exhaling a hard laugh. “We should have seen it, but she was a fucking good liar. Even when she told Kalder’s forces where to find us, even when she left us to the slaughter of seventeen armoured tigers and their riders…”

She shook her head, biting off the words.

“You still love her,” I murmured, a tight sensation pinching my chest. I wasn’t sure I could accept this about Naila, wasn’t sure I’d ever believe it fully, but enough doubt lingered that I softened my tongue against Shula. She fell in love with someone who only pretended to get close, and now she was mourning both a love and a life dreamed of.

“I always will,” she agreed bleakly. “It was false for her, but everything was real for me, right up until the moment she took to the sky and left us to be decimated.”

I covered my mouth, wishing I could keep denying it. But I remembered all the times Naila left Strava, and I remembered the hollow stare I’d caught on her face more than once. Because she regretted her actions? Because it weighed on her?

“I never knew she even liked women. We were close; she would have confessed that to me.” Wouldn’t she?

Shula sighed. “It’s impossible to know who loves you unconditionally or whose love will turn to hatred when they learn the truth. That at least has an easy explanation.”

“Her father would have tried to kill her,” I muttered. My uncle wasn’t known to be accepting of all. Most weren’t.

“My fatherdidtry to kill me,” Shula remarked, shocking my heart into a stutter. “I knew he would. I knew I’d need to defend myself one day. That’s part of why I trained and gathered strength.”

“He truly tried to kill you?” I breathed, staring at the woman.

Against all odds, Shula smiled. “It was too late to hurt me at that point. I took my brother’s place in the legions years before, so I was stronger than him then. Plus, I had a legion at my back who promised to roast him to bones and blackened flesh.”

With those fierce wyvern and the scowling people who rode them, I could well imagine.

“Why did she do it?” I murmured, returning to that over and over. I could understand why Naila might conceal a lover, but hiding a legion? Hiding treasonous thoughts?

“Let me show you something,” Shula said, pushing the plate at me. This time I took it, folding my fingers over the cool, ornate pottery. “Everyone else thinks I’m paranoid and mad but—I have a theory.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

AMEIRAH

Ifrowned at Shula’s cryptic remark and followed her away from the window up the final set of stairs to a door I’d found locked when I explored earlier. My eyes widened when instead of reaching for the handle, Shula pressed on a spot in the middle of the door and part of the wood folded inward, a cube revolving like a puzzle box.

“I’ve never seen a door like this…” I breathed, edging closer, the pastilla languishing in my hands.

“This fortress is older than Ithanys and Kalder.” Shula gave me a sideways look. “Do you know the history of this continent? Do you know we were united before the war as a single kingdom, but shattered by the araethawn queen?”

“I know the stories.” Most were exaggerated and embellished, but it was true the two kingdoms were once united. Some of the earliest adventures I’d got my hands on had told bold and fearsome tales from that period, the books so delicatethey were in danger of falling apart. “You’re talking about Wyvara.”

“I am,” Shula agreed, spinning a dial on the puzzle box, lining it up with two on either side until three stars laid out in a row above three suns and three crescent moons. The door clicked open, the scent of mint filling the staircase. “You know your history. Nabil will love you.”

“I know my legends,” I corrected. “I don’t know much about historical fact, but I love stories.”

And if I was honest, I could use a good story to distract myself from the fact Varidian had been gone for ten hours and showed no sign of returning. Mak wouldn’t let him fall no matter how rain-slick his scales were, but what if theybothcrashed to their deaths?

The squeak of the heavy wooden door ripped me back into the present, and I followed Shula’s imposing frame into an attic room that was so tall it was almost impossible. Like a grand throne room in an ancient palace, a silver stone floor spread around us, polished to a shine that didn’t reflect years of neglect. The fresh mint scent of the space was nothing like the dust and mildew that should have lingered. All around us, the walls gleamed silver and blue, so mirrored they caught our reflections as I followed Shula into the impressive space.

There was no way this room fit inside a tower, let alone at the very top of the fortress, where a small attic room ought to dwell. My heart quickened, a little of that hunger for magic and adventure returning. I swivelled my head as we walked, gawping at the high vaulted ceiling, the jade and cornflower blue flowers that draped from golden columns that ran the length of the room, defiant with life.

It was utterly silent except for our footsteps, but my imagination conjured the exultant cries of courtiers as they watched their ancient faerie king sit upon a throne. I couldpicture it atop the flight of thirty-two golden stairs directly ahead of us. But there was no king looking down over Shula and I, and no throne, only a tall silver mirror cracked from side to side. Above the shattered glass, wyvern and fae had been carved into golden stone, so detailed I expected them to leap off the lintel and soar down towards us, fire in their throats and a scream of warning echoing off the high ceilings.

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