Page 3 of The Cruel Dawn
He rushes toward me. A shrill cry shatters the silence.
My gaze snaps to the sky above me.
A flash of color blinks against the ginger- and blue-tinted sky. With those shimmering metallic gold-and-blue wings that span the width of a river and curved crimson beak…
A daxinea!
She cries again, then says,“Come, Lady!”
How about “no, thanks.” I chased another pretty thing across the realm—that thief’s name was Olivia—and that adventure landed me here, standing over a now-dead aburan. Not trying to do that again.
But the bird won’t leave me alone.“You must go there, Lady!”
But where is “there”? And who left these tracks?
“Hurry, Lady!”
I swipe Fury’s bloody blade across the fallen aburan’s fur and stow her in the sheath beside the Adjudicator’s sword with a platinum hilt and engraved silvery-blue blade.Arbiter. Judge. Truth. Mediator. Justice. Life. Death.I won her in a fight against Elyn Fynal the Adjudicator at the Sea of Devour. I take a step, but my breath comes short and fast. I want to vomit even though my stomach is empty. My tongue feels dry and swollen, and it’s cut. The blood I’m now tasting reminds me that I’m not whole, that I’m imperfect, that my situation remains…complicated.
With great care, I take tiny steps to the cliff’s edge and look out.
I stand above a realm on the verge of destruction. Thorny shrubs and acacia trees. Red dirt tufted with spiky grass. Sandy columns that used to be mountains before harsh winds scraped them down. Way out there, the land shimmers—but it’s a trick. This place has no treasures. This place has no hope or any promise. That shimmer? Those are bleached bones and broken glass.
Of all places in the world, Elyn swept me here, the ass-crack of Vallendor.
My knees wobble and my head spins. The need to vomit surges in my throat.
Another cry from the soaring daxinea.“Come, Lady!”
I need to sit for a moment. Those gray windwolves, though, blink their golden eyes at me, ready to lunge for my neck.
Sitting means surrendering.
I can’t surrender.
According to Elyn, I made Vallendor this way, destroying the realm out of selfishness and frustration.You are the one who will destroy the world.
But I didn’t destroythis daxinea.My heart swells to see her beauty and color bright against this landscape of desperation.
The creatures down here in the canyons also watch the bird. The wolves with stunted wings flick their pink tongues across their bladed teeth.“Hungry, so hungry.”
“Don’t touch that bird or else,” I warn them. “You think your wings are little now.”
The wolves blink at me, then drop their shaggy heads back down to the muddy pond. One thinks,“She will fail.”Another thinks,“We will wait.”
Yes, I was defeated in battle against the army of Syrus Wake, the Emperor and so-called Supreme Manifest of Vallendor. I remember confronting the traitor, Danar Rrivae. And I rememberhim.Jadon Ealdrehrt—no, JadonWake. The blacksmith. The prince. My lover. A liar. My foe. He’d asked me, Kaivara Megidrail, Grand Defender of Vallendor, Lady of the Verdant Realm, and Destroyer of Worlds, to be the empress to his emperor, as though this realm belonged to him. As though I trusted any word he uttered. As though he hadn’t betrayed me. Yeah, he betrayed me—I rememberthatmost of all.
But none of these memories calm my stomach, clear my head, or heed the call of the daxinea currently soaring over me. Nor do my titles or anger at the blacksmith tell me why I still feel like I’m being watched even after slaying an aburan.
I take one last look around, and then I say, “Lead on,” to the daxinea. I follow her over the rocks and down the hillside. I scramble across scrapple and squeeze through slots. I rest because I get dizzy and the world keeps swooping, the edges of my vision fading.
But I don’t sit down.
Sitting means surrender.
I take a moment to scan my surroundings again.
No aburan. No humans.
