Page 74 of Wings of Cruelty and Flame

Judging by the way my husband’s teeth bared, Mak had translated for him. He threw his leg over Makrukh’s back and flung himself into a dismount, landing and storming towards us in the same motion. Rage cut every line in his body, every step formed of wrath and retribution. Raheema gulped.

“You never,” he said when he was close enough to be heard, her size meaning he didn’t even have to shout for his voice to reach us.“Neverrisk my wife that way again. That was irresponsible, reckless, and childish. I know you’re young, Raheema, but you are a mount and you’ll show some dignity and respect for that title.”

The more he spoke, the lower her head dipped and the tighter my chest wound.

“She was just having fun,” I defended her, my lips thin. “She’s learned her lesson.”

“I’m not sure she has,” Varidian argued. “Dismount. I have something else planned for us today.”

“What happened to flying?”

“Raheema happened,” he replied, biting and harsh. The same way he spoke to me in the barn yesterday. I sighed and began unstrapping myself. It took minutes to get free, and it would be a hindrance if we were in a real fight, if we were being chased and I needed to dismount quickly. I’d need to practise strapping and unstrapping this seat, or else fly without these protections. With a groan of frustration, I ripped the buckle from the last strap and detangled myself from the contraption.

“You better catch me,” I warned Varidian as I swung my leg over Raheema’s.

“Always,” he promised, his voice so deep I felt it across my skin. He was furious, a being of rage and vengeance. I pushed myself off Raheema’s sleek back—I didn’t know if she just didn’t have spikes like Mak, or if they’d grow with age—and swallowed my shout of fear at how fast I fell.

Varidian was true to his word and caught me, his arms snapping around me instantly, crushing me to his chest. I gritted my teeth, pain flaring across my ribs one by one, bringing tears to my eyes. With his own injuries, it must have hurt him, too.

“I’m fine,” I murmured, sinking my fingers into his hair and gripping tight. “I’m not hurt, and Raheema didn’t mean to scare me. This isn’t a tiger attack or an enemy wyvern in the sky. I’mfine.”

His nostrils flared. “You could have fallen out of the saddle. You could have—”

I kissed him to stop the flow of panic from his tongue, tingles bursting up my back when he growled and yanked me closer, fingers biting into my skin as our kiss deepened.

I didn’t stop until he was gasping, until my lungs screamed for air and my head began to spin.

“That was,” he panted, his eyes sultry and low, “quite convincing.”

“Good.” I kissed him again, a brief brush this time. “I know Wyfell scared you, Varidian, but I’m alright.” My ribs blazed with pain, but I’d be fine. I was alive and that counted for a lot.

“You woke up three times last night,” he said, his voice achingly soft. He brushed a lock of violet hair from my face. “Will you talk to me about it?”

I glanced away, a knot swelling in my throat. “I can’t handle seeing them hurt,” I said in a whisper, scenes playing out in front of my eyes, replacing Varidian’s face. “Children. After Shahzia—”

I couldn’t finish. Varidian pulled me closer, until my head rested on his chest, his hand moulded to the back of my head. Raheema made a low, mournful sound and I sensed her edging closer.

“I keep seeing the boy in the Last Guard. And then Masuma in Wyfell. With all the riders and clergy attacking the city, I know she—she’s—”

“There are survivors of every attack,” Varidian said, soft but fierce. His lips met the crown of my head. “There’s horrific loss of life, I admit, but there arealwayssurvivors. Who says she wasn’t one?”

I swallowed the knot in my throat. “I get to choose what happened,” I whispered, remembering what he told me on the flight back to the Red Star.

“Believe what you need so you may sleep at night. That’s the only way I can rest some nights. I choose to believe they survived.”

I hugged him tighter but stiffened when he sucked in a sharp breath. I’d endeavoured to see his injuries for days, but he was surly and secretive about them. I drew back now, opening my mouth, but one look at the stony expression on his face and I changed tact.

“What if we—”

We both froze when a rhythmic sound reached us, repetitive like a drum. My stomach tangled. I shot a look at Varidian but he was already grabbing me, pulling me against the mountain.

“Mak, take Raheema and hide somewhere,” he hissed, his hands tightening on my body. This time I couldn’t hide my pain and his expression froze, but he kept guiding us back against the rock, angling us into a natural ridge on the mountain face. We were shielded, but barely, and I wore yellow ochre, not camouflage-grey. Varidian’s black stood out, too.

“What is it?” I whispered, my heart beating faster when that low drumming grew louder.

“Warriors,” Varidian replied, tension running through him as he pressed me against the rock, covering me with his body. “Lots of them by the sound of it.”

“Marching to the wall?” I asked, my pulse thumping so hard I felt it in my throat. I curled my fingers into the soft leather of Varidian’s coat, needing him close, terrified we’d be spotted and hurt. Killed.

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