Page 2 of Unfinished

Sienna laughed and tapped a finger lightly against the stem of her glass. “I like myself, even if it hasn’t looked that way the past few years. I don’t want to try to change my entire personality—not because of Edgar. There’s nothing wrong with planning and setting goals. I want to change my life, to go after the things I really want, but I still want to beme. Does that make sense?”

Tasha lifted her glass and grinned, but her eyes seemed suspiciously glassy. “You’re right—that’s perfect. Do things your way.” She tipped her head towards Sienna’s hand. “Come on, lift your glass. I have a toast to make.”

“A toast?” Sienna smiled as she raised her glass and waited for her friend to speak.

“To being Sienna,” said Tasha as she clinked their glasses.

“To being me.” Sienna sipped her martini and felt the smooth bite of its heat as the liquid slid down her throat. She’d been right. It was a momentous evening, but not for the reasons she’d expected. Edgar leaving her wasn’t the most important thing that’d happened tonight. No, that toast was.

A new life. A new start. It was time to choose herself for once.

2

R’kash was walkingalong the balustrade that faced north. He could feel the brisk wind coming in from over the plains lifting his crown feathers as he tapped his fingertips against the weathered stone of the barrier. He stopped and stood there, body swaying towards the edge as he looked out over their land.

Evathi was one of the smaller temples in the north, remote without having the reach of the major ceremonial complexes like Xithat or the Kesselathi temple, but surveying their grounds still had a sense of pride flaring bright in his chest. As Evathi’s high priest, he liked to walk the perimeter of the rooftop sanctuary every morning, and every morning was almost always the same in Evathi. Although they had worshippers stopping to leave offerings or receive blessings most days, the sight of the flyer currently touching down near the front entrance was unusual enough to demand his attention.

His muscles grew taut, and he narrowed his eyes at the craft below. He should’ve been informed of any important visitors ahead of time. R’kash tapped against the comm device nestled within the folds of his robes near his neck.

“Jesthi—there’s a flyer at the main entrance. Any information on its occupants?” he asked as he headed towards the ramps that would lead down to the ground floor of the temple.

There was the sound of muffled shuffling before Jesthi’s voice came across through the device.

“No. Shall I greet them?”

“Yes, do. I’ll be there shortly.” R’kash disengaged the comm device and took the sloping ramps that zig-zagged across the backside of the building with long, swinging strides that hardly befitted the dignity of a Xithilene high priest. It was a good thing there was no one there to see him.

He could hear voices as he hurried towards the front entrance. Jesthi must have left the gate open—unusually careless behavior from R’kash’s lead priest. He inclined his head towards some of his other brethren as he passed them preparing the main hall for the day’s services, but his attention was focused on the sliver of an opening between the two heavy, carved doors of the front gate.

“There’s nowhere else for the child. This is the only option. She’s of your blood.”

His feathers flicked and snapped as they began to rise in agitation. A child? Here, at Evathi?

R’kash stopped with his hand curling around the edge of the left door.

“Yes, sired by one of your priests.”

His fingers clenched over the wood, the tips of his black nails pressing hard enough to leave little half-moon marks. He would’ve seen them if he’d cared to check.

Families often brought children to their temples. That wasn’t unusual, but they didn’t sound like this person—cold, disinterested, and disdainful. The day a young boy came to serve one of Xithilene’s temples was a time of celebration.

R'kash pushed the door aside and stepped through the opening. He looked up at their visitors and forgot how to breathe. A little girl stared down at the white bricks of the holy path, kicking the toe of her sandals into the pale mortar between them. Her scales were as bronze as his own, but her small black wings flared behind her as her keening filled the air. The child was crying. An impossible, beautiful child who didn’t belong at Evathi.

“Only boys apprentice to enter the priesthood.” His voice came out rough and clipped. He regretted it the instant the girl looked up and her red-orange eyes met his own. When he swallowed, it felt as if the air scraped down his throat, leaving it raw like some monstrous creature had scored his flesh with its talons.

Jesthi’s expression hardened as he inclined his head slightly. The slight lift of his lead priest’s crown feathers seemed to ask what R'kash wanted to do next. There was only one choice. Although it was unheard of, although he doubted their ability to care for the child, he wouldn’t turn her away. He recognized those eyes and their distinctive shade, like the dying sun sinking into the swaying grasses of the northern plains—they were the mirror image of his own.

He lowered himself down onto one knee, hoping the sudden movement wouldn’t scare the child. She looked far younger than the few boys who had apprenticed at his training temple—she was hardly more than a baby.

“What’s your name?”

Her small hand darted out, her wet fingers tangling in the thick folds of his crimson robes. He watched as the fabric crumpled, the damp from her tears staining it blood dark. The feathers that curved close over her scalp were as violet-black as her wings. He’d imagined a meeting like this for years—the arrival of a child of his blood, come to learn the ways of the Lady. He’d never expected to feel this peculiar ache, like a splitting in his sternum, or a great hand grasping his lungs and giving them a harsh twist.

R'kash waited for the child to speak, knowing that the sound of her name would alter his world forever.

She dipped her head down until all he could see was the shiny darkness of her crown feathers. When she whispered the first time, he barely heard it.

“Louder, child.” The girl’s small wings curved inwards to cover her shoulders, and she flinched as the man who’d brought her spoke.

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