Page 7 of Lana Pecherczyk
Their complaints disappeared under Clarke’s strained words. “River, listen. Ash needs to be there, too. It’s important. Something about a trade … the Collector…”
His jaw clenched. She’d seen the legitimate reason for him going to the Great Murder, not the vengeance burning through his veins. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.
“It all starts and ends with you, doesn’t it?” he muttered.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” She gathered the twins. “Come on, girls, home before your dad.”
“Wait—” The question died on his tongue.Will I ever fly again?
Clarke paused. “Yes?”
Say it. Ask her about your wings.
“Any word from Willow?” he asked. She’d been missing for a few weeks, but her parents weren’t too worried. Their daughter had soul-searching to do, or some shit, and had left on her own volition.
“Not yet,” Clarke replied. “But I have a good feeling we’ll talk to her soon.”
Air shimmered around the twins, and they morphed into white, rusty-patched wolf cubs. River barely dodged as theystreaked down the porch and across the training lawn toward their father.
Rush’s dirty Guardian uniform betrayed a recent mission. His yellow eyes narrowed at River’s proximity to his mate.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Clarke muttered, taking a giant step away.
Rush instantly relaxed and nodded at River respectfully, signaling he wouldn’t attack. As if he could take a crow. River scoffed and flipped up his middle finger. The silver-haired Guardian smirked, then crouched to welcome the furry torpedoes with open arms.
“Don’t mind him,” Clarke drawled. “I can’t even blame his possessiveness on Willow leaving on her adventure. He’s always been like that.”
“Mates.” River rolled his eyes. “Can’t live with them.”
Clarke stared at him.
“What?” he said.
“Is there a second part of that saying?”
“Nope.”
“River.” Her pitying tone triggered every flight instinct in his body. “You know how much Rush and I appreciate that you comforted Willow after Rory died. Right?”
Appreciate. Not thank. Not enough to trigger a Well-enforced debt. Bitter anger swelled, choking him. If she were truly grateful, she’d thank him properly. Then he could finally extract answers to the questions haunting his nightmares, and force her to forget.
Tell me Cloud’s descent into madness isn’t my fault.
Tell me I didn’t set it all in motion by letting him fall for the enemy.
Tell me how to find my best friend so I can murder his sorry ass.
But he said nothing. He just nodded and went inside, the coins burning a hole in his pocket against his thigh.
“I need your help, princeling,”River said as he barged unannounced into Ash’s room.
The crow-shifter lounged in a battered chair by the closed window, reading in the dappled sunlight. Phantom wind whispered secrets in his ears, lifting long wisps of dark hair around his bronze face.
Without looking up, he licked his finger and turned a page. “Whose body are we burying?”
“No one died.”
Cloud’s bloody V-stained face flashed in River’s mind, along with a stab of guilt and the urge to confess everything. But he resisted and shoved Ash’s boots from the coffee table to make room. When he sat, his leather creaked. Cockadoom stink wafted.
