Page 203 of Lana Pecherczyk
The male quickly transformed into bird form, hopped, and cawed when the female hesitated.
“You’re a Guardian.” Recognition flickered in her eyes despite River’s disguise. The mud must have come loose from his face. “But your friend … why?”
Her mate cawed again. She didn’t wait for River’s answer and shifted into her bird form. The two flew away, wings shadowing each other, whisking smoke with them into the canopy.
Boots thudded against packed earth behind River.
Ash surveyed the destruction, calculating. “How can we be sure it was him?”
River gestured irritably at the multitudes of blackened flesh, scorched wood—electricity’s unmistakable signature. “Who else can fucking shoot lightning from their fingertips? I swear to the Well, I’ll rip his throat out this time.”
“But what if?—”
“No.” River shut that shit down. “I’d thought the same thing. Maybe he’d been attacked. Maybe he’d been provoked. Sooner or later, we need to face the truth.”
Do we need to be worried?Jasper had asked him days ago.
Maybe,he’d replied.But I can promise you this—no more innocents will lose their lives. If I find him, I’ll stop him.
Chapter
Sixty-Three
Sentinels arrived and navigated the destruction, shoving past River and Ash with insults mumbled beneath their breath. Some fanned wings to clear the smoke. Others used precious mana to extinguish lingering fires and push off rogue manabeeze interfering with rescue efforts. But they were kittens amongst lions.
Ash flicked out his hand, and a gale blew forward, adding force to their efforts. River dug his fist into dirt and debris, connecting with the Well on a visceral level, ensuring no embers flared or fires sparked anew. The effort made him sweat and drained his inner reserves.
“Enough,” he clipped. No one was dying. They’d survive the smoke.
Ash dropped his hand and stared bleakly ahead. Activity resumed, including more sounds behind them. They’d erected a makeshift triage at the market’s entrance, and the injured lined up on palettes.
River jerked his chin toward the wounded. “Let’s see if your ma survived.”
Ash nodded, jaw tightening above the ceremonial feathered collar. The ridiculous mating outfit seemed obscene amid the carnage. But at least he’d rubbed the mud off his Guardian mark.
River pushed through the crowd, following burnt flesh and lightning’s aftermath. Sentinels parted before them. Fear permeated the air with a sour stench. Getting in the way of Guardians now was suicide.
The groans of the wounded amplified beneath the triage tent. River caught sight of a feathered headdress first, once regal, now mostly gone, uneven clumps and burned skin laid bare. He wanted to feel triumphant. Satisfaction. Maybe relief at her injuries and hope that she’d fucking choke on them, but all he felt was a growing sense of confusion amongst his nausea.
If Cloud wanted her dead, she’d be dead.
The Collector was very much alive and on a palette, chest rising in shallow bursts. Beside her, another woman lay unconscious.
Ash stopped short and tucked his wings against his spine. His face hardened into a mask of indifference.
“My heir.” The Collector’s beak-like face turned toward Ash, dark eyes glittering despite her injuries. “Come … to witness … your handiwork?”
His fists clenched. “Not mine.”
“You sent him.” Blood-crusted feathers rustled as she attempted to sit, only to collapse with a pained gasp. “You sent the stormy one … because I refused him.”
“I sent no one.”
River’s intuition prickled at the sense of wrongness nearby. Not from the Collector. His gaze drifted to the woman on the palette next door.
A single scorch mark across her left shoulder cauterized an open wound, giving the appearance of melted flesh. River’sfingers drifted to his jaw line, where a spiderweb of thin scar tissue was all that remained of a similar injury.
He’d been so lucky to have access to a healer like Ada. He must have looked horrific when they’d brought him to her.
