Page 149 of Lana Pecherczyk
Had Cloud lain here too, agonizing over what he’d lost, reliving those first precious moments of his daring relationship with the enemy? Had he wondered where it all went wrong, what he could have done differently? Had he wondered if there was a reason the Well chose him for this fate, targeting him specifically?
River, Cloud, and Ash once stargazed together. When ale or mana-weed had loosened their tongues on rare nights, they shared their hopes and dreams. Ash had slipped into their friendship as naturally as breathing. Like he’d been there from the beginning.
Crimson.
River’s stomach churned. If Ash knew what trouble the cryptex had caused, he’d never forgive himself. He would have moved mountains to prevent another soul from suffering for the sake of his freedom. Rory had taken the blame for the missing cryptex. Cloud probably didn’t learn about Nero’s punishment until it was too late to stop.
Wings.
Rory hadwings.
Like her two mothers, she was born in the old world.
The Well wiped the slate clean for everyone. It gave everyone an equal chance to abide by its rules. Even Nero had that same opportunity, waking in this time to find out he could hold mana. But he’d depleted it permanently through his deplorable choices, which spoke volumes about his character. If he neededto replenish from stolen mana, it meant the Well blocked him from refilling naturally.
Leaf’s collection of Jackson Crimson’s journals detailed a firsthand account of old-world humans mutating into fae after the Fallout. That first generation wasn’t born. It was made. Whatever Rory had become might have surprised them all.
River’s gaze flicked to the winged skeletal remains on the wall, and he exhaled.
Why did Cloud torture himself with thoughts of what might have been? Why hold onto this tragedy as if it were a treasure? Rory was still dead, and Cloud had still been cheated out of his vengeance. Now he sought revenge against the world—maybe even the Well.
Regardless of the conflict between them, River had to stop Cloud. Simple as that.
They had to find a way out of the trove first.
Cloud had either brought portal stones into the trove each time he visited or, with practice, shifted into crow form and flew directly after submerging. He’d always been good at that stuff. Better than River, better than anyone. Faster, stronger, could fly higher. It’s what made him such a great thief. He stayed humble about it until he used it to his advantage.
Waiting for the tide to lower wouldn’t help them. The lowering water levels were seasonal. They’d starve before that happened.
Blake stirred in his arms. She looked up at him and smiled, melting away all his troubles.
“Hey,” she said, running her hand over his stomach. “How are you feeling?”
He suspected she wasn’t asking about physical sensations but was done analyzing his head.
“Wounds are mostly healed,” he replied, offering a smile.
She checked his wounds, systematically moving around his body, mothering him. It had been a long time since he’d allowed anyone to look at him like this without feeling defensive. It was nice.
“Yeah,” she confirmed. “You’ve healed.”
“I think the Well flows strongly here,” he noted, “despite the metal threading through the ruins. There’s something about this place. The glowworms are a good indicator.”
“Maybe because it belongs to a Guardian,” she suggested.
“Could be.”
After long moments of silence, River asked, “Do you think someone can betray you if you betrayed them first?”
He regretted the question immediately, but couldn’t take it back.
Blake gave a sleepy yawn. “I guess it depends on whether the betrayal was intentional. Maybe. I don’t know. Why do you ask?”
His gaze flicked to the wall of doom. He lifted her from his side to lie over his front. “How are you feeling?”
A contented sigh answered him. She dropped her head to his chest and dangled her hand over the side of his body, skimming her fingers through his feathers.
His instinct was to tense, to shift his wings away, to hide the damaged parts. But he didn’t. For some crazy reason, she loved them. He palmed her curvy buttocks instead, slightly annoyed she’d redressed before dozing. Couldn’t she just walk around naked for him?
