Page 31 of The Cruel Dawn
I lift my chin. “Diminished or not, I’m fixing these ruined places, including Eaponys. Isn’t that what I should be doing? And ‘tarry’? Interesting word choice, ma’am—I’ve already restored Gasho since I left this canyon three days ago.”
Sybel glares at me with her lion face, all rage and judgment, terrible to behold.
Shame makes my cheeks burn, and I lower my eyes to the canyon floor. “I mean no disrespect—I’m just sharing all that I’ve—”
“Before you make me regret coming here,” she grumbles, “before I take back the gift I’m about to give you, I suggest that you listen and swallow any remainingupdatesrolling up your throat.”
My shoulders drop—soften—and I put my tongue away.
Above us, a creature growls, low and angry.
I look up but can’t see the beast’s glow behind these limestone walls.
“Unlike you,” Sybel says, “I haven’t had a moment’s rest. Neither has your uncle. Together, Agon the Kindness and I have taken a critical step on your behalf.” She slowly exhales, and the face of a sharp-eyed and thoughtful silver eagle takes the lion’s place. “We’ve petitioned the Council of High Orders to consider your situation again, and they’ve agreed to offer you this.” She holds out her hand.
A ball of swirling darkness streaked with lightning bolts bounces around her palm.
I gasp, “Spryte!”
“Unless you don’t need it,” Sybel says.
“But Idoneed it!”
“Then…”
“Thank you!” I don’t waste the opportunity, holding out my hand and watching as the ball rolls along my arm and melts into my amulet. The moth bucks wildly against my chest. I close my eyes to enjoy the thrumming of the pendant now invigorated from this wonderful gift. I can’t smile any wider than I’m smiling right now.
For a moment, Sybel shows her softer human face, but then the flinty-eyed eagle returns. “You have the ability again to travel quickly across the realm,” she says. “You may keep this gift with one condition: go to the abbey atop Mount Devour immediately. There you will receive new armor—”
“I’m already wearing new armor,” I interrupt, hypnotized by the dark swirl of the moth’s thorax. “This set was a gift from Malik Sindire.”
“Who is Malik Sindire?” Sybel asks, squinting.
“He visits Vallendor every now and then. His followers built a temple for him on the other side of the mountain. He’s a collector of things from around the realms. Weapons, armor, books… He knows my father.”
“Everyoneknows your father, child,” Sybel says. “I don’t understand. How can this Malik Sindire give youanythingpowerful enough to withstand the strength and might of the traitor?”
“I don’t know, but he did.” I peer at her. “I’ll go to the abbey—I have unfinished business there anyway with my uncle.” I tap the pendant and add, “Thank you for this, Lady. Now, Zephar and I can—”
“Only you may use Spryte,” Sybel is saying.
I blink. “What? No—”
Another growl comes from the ledge above. Multiple footsteps sound against the hard-packed dirt.
I count twelve feet.
A draft catches their scent: rancid, musky meat.
My skin sizzles, and the tiny hairs around my body lift.
“Listen.” Sybel’s face darkens. “The Council resisted our petition to return Spryte to you, and they pointed out every error and offense you’ve made against Supreme that caused them to withdraw your ability in the first place. I kept reminding them of your growth, and how you’ve placed yourself in harm’s way to save those around you. How, in your heart, you yearn to do right. But—”
“But what?” I ask, my anger starting to crackle.
“But your ego and intelligence send you spinning back to destruction.” Her lip curls as she adds, “And Zephar Itikin is not the advisor I’d want by your side at this precarious moment. He aims to control you, Kaivara. He always has.”
“You don’t understand him,” I say, shaking my head.
