Page 87 of The War of Wings
Rhedros didn’t answer. I squeezed my eyes shut. They’d abandoned hope. I wanted to stand up and scream to them that they’d be getting out of here when I killed Malosym. But I kept my mouth shut, willing myself to find my way back to the Human Realm. As Katia’s cries quieted to sniffles, I felt the barrier begin to thin.
???
When I was little, Da used to tell us the Saints lived in the sky. He’d point out stars, drawing invisible lines with his fingers,as he told us who they were. The shapes never made much sense to me, but Da insisted that was them. “They’re nae far away,” he’d tell us. “Just there, ye see, just above us. Even when the moon is asleep and ye cannae see them.” But now, as I opened my eyes to a sky scattered with stars, I wished it was true. I wished they were that close. Perhaps if they lived in the night sky, Katia and Rhedros wouldn’t be in danger of Malosym’s wrath. Perhaps they’d still have hope.
A long breath left my nose as I blinked the world into focus.
“There she is,” a familiar voice breathed, and it settled somewhere deep inside me. “You were out for a while this time.” Cal’s eyes were molten in the red glow of torchlight. I tried to memorize the way the blue looked like a sunset over a sapphire ocean. I wished the feeling of his arms around me could be imprinted on my very soul. Maybe it already had been.
I took stock of my senses, letting consciousness slip back into my body. No pain shot up my arms when I squeezed my fists. The blisters were healed. We were in the middle of a street in Araqina. I could vaguely hear voices and footsteps all around me. I was okay. I’d made it through. But as I found my way back into my head, reality was a beacon in the night.
“How many did we lose?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Cal’s face hardened. “Somewhere between seven and eight hundred. Mostly civilians.” A weight dropped in my gut as I closed my eyes against his words. Fuck.Fuck.“Mobilizing the army we had available at a moment’s notice did not go as smoothly as it should’ve.”
“The drivas?”
“All fine. Rixa will need a gash on her back healed, but otherwise, they’re all fine.”
“And the injured?”
“Nell helped set up the ballroom as a holding space until you woke up,” he answered. “Figured it was better thansummoning a rainstorm and flooding the city. Healers are in there now doing what they can.”
My posture stiffened as I tried to stand, but Cal’s arms tightened around me. “Hang on,” he murmured. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Cal,” I answered quickly, trying to decode the expression on his face.
He stared at me for one extra moment before his grip loosened and he helped me to my feet. I shook off the remaining grogginess as we moved through the streets, headed for the doors of the castle where I would spend as much time as was needed healing the injured.
Guilt made my stomach churn as we passed bodies in the streets.Again.How many times would this happen? Why had he attacked? He hadn’t been at full power. Had he expended too much sending in the Occulti in their true form last night?
“I let him go,” I murmured. The guilt swirled with anger and set my head spinning.
“You can’t blame yourself, Petra.”
“You always say that, but at some point, I’ll have to take the blame. At some point, enough is enough.”
Cal was quiet for a beat too long before he answered me. “You didn’t let him go. Don’t you dare think that.”
How could I not think that? My sole purpose in life had very quickly boiled down to ending Malosym’s life. That was it. That was my only mission. I failed today. And who knew what consequences would come from him still being somewhere out there in the world? How many more people would he hurt? How many would he kill?
When we finally pushed through the doors to the ballroom, I shut out everything but the task ahead. Cal left to help families who were still looking for their loved ones in the streets. And I healed. I sliced my palm open over and over and over again until every gash was closed and every cut was mended.
I’d long since sent the healers away to get some rest. I fell into the same pattern of apologizing, of explaining what I knew in the shortest way I could. The sun had to be close to rising when I made it to the very last person in the ballroom.
Cielle.
She sat patiently, hands folded in her lap, posture perfectly straight without appearing the least bit stiff. The way her legs were tucked one behind the other looked natural, but I was sure I’d fall out of my seat trying to maneuver myself into that position. Grace seemed to radiate from her, making my lack thereof feel so much more profound. I’d know she was royal without having to ask. Even with dirt streaking one of her cheeks and her blonde hair escaping its braid, she was beautiful. Just as beautiful as Larka.
But I had a feeling she had the filter Larka didn’t, and I’d be willing to bet Cielle had never let a singlefuckorshitslip through in front of another person. Maybe not even under her breath.
She was still so very Larka, but I could tell now, she was her own person. She was…me, in a strange way. She was therealPetra, the daughter my mother had no idea had been taken away from her and given a different life. What would my mother say when she found out?
“Hello, Cielle,” I said quietly, trying to infuse some sort of cheer or joy into my voice for her sake. There was none to be had, though.
“Your Majesty.” Her words were strained and there was a slight hitch in her movements as she rose to lower herself into a curtsy.
“Please,” I said, gesturing for the small cot she’d been waiting on. “Are you injured?”
