Wings of Tavea (30 page)

He should have stayed silent—after all, he had lain there simply to convince her he was asleep. “What?” he asked. “You only burn your victims if they are awake?” He turned to look at her. She sat in the armchair, her head down. Her eye was red, shiny, and nearly swollen shut. Her cheek was black and blue. Grunting, Emane tried to push himself up, but the pain forced him flat. “He hit you again.”

She shrugged. “Why would you care?”

“He has no right to hit you.”

She laughed, the laughter quickly turning into a sob.

“Layla, let me heal you.”

She stood slowly, confusion etched on her face. “You haven’t finished healing yourself.”

Emane gritted his teeth as he moved himself to sitting, trying not to groan. “I ran out before I could get to my back. I was waiting for it to replenish.” He took a deep shuddering breath. “But I have enough to fix your face.”

“If you do, you will have to wait longer to heal yourself.”

“Yes.”

She took another step forwards. “Why would you do that?”

“No one deserves to be treated that way.”

Her chin rose, looking down her nose at him. “You are trying to trick me so I won’t hurt you.”

“No,” he said softly. He gingerly pushed himself up, grunting. “I know you’re still going to hurt me.” Her eyes furtively moved to the floor. She stood there, trembling, as he took slow, painful steps towards the bars of the cage. “Please, Layla.”

Emane could see a tear glistening in her other eye as she inched her way towards the cage. When she stood face to face with him, she whispered, “You can’t touch the bars, they will hurt you.”

He nodded. Turning his hand to the side, he cautiously slid it between two of the snapping bars. He couldn’t feel the magic they were made of, but he could feel the heat off them. He winced as the movement of his arm stretched the burnt skin along his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he grunted. “I can’t reach any further.”

Eyes wide and trembling, Layla inched closer until his fingers touched her cheek. Closing his eyes, he allowed the healing to flow. As soon as he was done, she took a quick step back, her fingers running over her face.

Emane slowly withdrew his hand before sinking to the ground. He painstakingly laid himself flat again.

Layla looked nervously over her shoulder before sitting down on the floor in front

of him. “Why do you love her so much?” she whispered.

His eyes fluttered open for a second. “Why don’t you?”

She sputtered, “You don’t understand.”

“No,
you
don’t understand. You have never understood. You saw a little sister that scared you. Instead of loving her despite of it, you hated her for it.”

Layla scrambled to her feet, whirling towards the door. “Dralazar!”

Dralazar grinned, striding across the room. Grabbing her chin, he turned her face to the side. “Look at that.” Pulling her chin down, he looked into her eyes. “Didn’t I tell you our soft-hearted Protector would heal you?”

Emane clenched his fists.

“Very good, Emane. Now that we know you can heal those you despise, you will heal me.”

“No.”

“Emane.” His voice was too calm. Emane had learned to fear the calm more than he feared the anger. “This can be as hard or easy as you want. But in the end, you
will
heal me.”

Emane didn’t feel the fire coming, but he heard it crackling forward a second before it seared his already burnt skin. He writhed on the floor but didn’t lose consciousness this time. The fire stopped before the welcoming blackness could obliviate the pain.

He heard Dralazar instruct Layla to continue before the sound of his footsteps leaving the room echoed though his haze of pain. A second later, Layla sunk to a pile on the floor, crying, before she had finished the job. Emane wasn’t grateful.

But under all the pain, an unwelcome ball of pity for Layla was forming in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

ALCANDER AND KIORA HAD taken turns bubbling for the remainder of the day. Because of the failed attack on their camp, Alcander insisted the bubble be kept up, no matter how much of their magic it drained. The army would be actively hunting both them and those who had fled with Lomay.

The sun was setting, and Drustan’s speed had been steadily dropping the longer they flew. Below them the landscape changed—from the barren, dried up land they had fled from—to a new type of scenery Kiora wasn’t used to. It was lush and green like Meros, but the pines she was familiar with were nearly gone. In their place stood giant trees of all different shapes and sizes. The large, flat leaves were not green, but red and orange and yellow. So different from the evergreen pine needles she was used to.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her eyes glued to the pallet of colors.

“Yes, I have missed this,” Drustan wheezed between heavy wing flaps.

“You don’t have trees?” Alcander asked.

“We only have pines.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Why do the Taveans have a price on your head?”

“Because I have the only legitimate claim to the throne.”

She chewed on that for a while before blurting, “That doesn’t make any sense. If you tried to claim the throne, they would just kill you. Why does it matter?”

“My claim to the
privileges
of the throne would be more accurate,” he explained tightly. “There is a staff with great powers, and it is loyal to the reigning King. Until my bloodline is extinguished, a new King cannot be named, and thus it cannot be used.”

“Why don’t you just summon it?” she asked.

He laughed humorlessly. “The Taveans have placed so many tracking spells on it, they would have me the minute I did.”

They flew silently for a while.

“Alcander,” Drustan said. “How much longer were you hoping I could fly today?” His words were clipped from lack of breath.

“Just there,” Alcander said, pointing to a sparkling blue lake that had just come

into view.

The closer they got to it, the more Kiora realized the size of it. “That is the biggest

lake I have ever seen.”

“It’s called Lake Everleen, which means never-ending waters.”

“Never-ending.” Drustan groaned, dipping closer to the ground. “That sounds promising.”

“Can’t you make your muscles larger?” Alcander questioned.

“My abilities are impressive, Tavean,” Drustan grunted, struggling to regain his altitude. “But a muscle is a muscle. No matter the size of it, I can only work it so much.”

“That’s a shame.”

“No, it’s a shame
you
can’t fly.”

Kiora looked at the trees surrounding the lake. “Where is the camp?”

“Straight out.”

Drustan whipped around his long dragonhead. “I am
not
flying to the other side of the never-ending lake. Not without stopping for the night.”

“We aren’t going to the other side,” Alcander said, looking past Drustan’s scowling face to the waters.

“Then where?” he demanded.

“Just fly. I have to watch for it or we will miss it.”

Drustan turned his head back, grumbling. They flew out over the water until they could barely see the shore. A thin line of brown behind them marked their distance.

“There!” Alcander said. “Look.”

All she saw were miles of small waves lapping under the wind. “I don’t see anything.”

He leaned over her shoulder, pressing against her back. Wrapping his arm around her, he pointed in front of them. “Look, right there, at the waves.”

Then she saw it—the waves were breaking against something she couldn’t see. It was only for a second, and then the normal pattern of waves resumed.

She frowned. “What is it?”

“The shore. Drustan, come in low and skim the water.”

He obeyed, dropping lower until his belly was just above the waves. One second there was water in front of them, and the next they had passed through a magical barrier and were flying over a sandy beach. Looking up, Kiora gulped. Maybe a foot above her head, wicked looking trees had been shaved into long thin points. They were buried in the sand around the island at different intervals and angles. Anyone accidently passing through the boundary would be impaled before they could tell anyone what they had discovered.

No sooner had they landed than Alcander hissed in her ear, “Put your arms up, slowly. It appears Lomay didn’t have time to contact them before we left.”

Several creatures had appeared out of nowhere and were facing them, hands up and ready to attack. There were three dark-skinned men, as well as two winged men.

Someone pushed through the patrol. Kiora could see the physical characteristics that marked him as a Tavean—fair hair, blue eyes, pointed ears. But Alcander was so much more striking. This new Tavean had short hair and ears that pointed nearly straight out. The sharpness of his features did not blend well with the rounder shape of his face.

“Prince Alcander,” the Tavean said in relief. “We did not know you were coming.” Turning around, he yelled at the patrol, “Stand down!”

“Einar.” Alcander bowed his head slightly in recognition.

Einar dropped into a full bow at the waist. “What brings you here, Your Majesty?” His eyes flicked repeatedly to Kiora, like a moth to a flame.

“Our camp was discovered.” Alcander halted and amended his statement. “Destroyed.”

“Lomay?” Einar asked, raising an eyebrow

“Safe, I believe. He led the others out.”

Einar bowed again. “What may we assist you with?”

“We will need accommodations for three.”

“The Shifter can stay with the rest of his kind. As for you and your guest—”

“No,” Alcander interrupted. “The Shifter stays with us for now.”

Einar looked thoroughly confused, but swallowed before neatly wiping the expression off his face. “Of course. Anything else?”

“I need to speak with Niall.”

If Einar was confused before, he was now flabbergasted and did a poor job of hiding it. “You came to speak to Niall?” he sputtered.

“He is still here, I assume?” Alcander asked dryly.

“Yes, of course.” Einar shook his head. “Crazy old bat is too unstable for us to release.”

“Please have him summoned.”

“Yes, my Prince.” Einar’s eyes again flitted to Kiora.

Alcander scowled. “This is Kiora,” he said, motioning towards her. “If you cannot recall your manners, I will have someone else show us our accommodations.”

Kiora’s checks flushed red.

Einar snapped to attention, his back straight. “Of course.” Turning on his heels, he said tightly, “Come with me, please.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Island Rebels

THEIR ACCOMMODATIONS WERE NO different than what Kiora had seen spread over the rest of the island—a large tent.

“Why aren’t there homes, like at your camp?” she asked once Einar had left.

“This is more of an outpost,” Alcander explained. “We use it for defense as well as to house backup troops in case of emergency. Few stay for long.”

“Except the one we came to see,” Drustan said, flopping onto of the sleeping mats, his arm draped over his eyes. “Why are we talking to a crazy old bat?”

“He might not be crazy, that’s why,” Alcander said. “And you’re welcome.”

“For what?” Drustan drawled.

“For not sticking you in the camp with the rest of the Shifters.”

Drustan rolled over, his arm slamming into the ground. He sat up, leaning towards Alcander. “
You’re
welcome I flew your sorry ass out of that camp instead of leaving you to walk! You ungrateful, self centered—”

“Enough!” Kiora said, jumping between the two. “Thank you for flying us here, Drustan. And thank you, Alcander, for making sure Drustan stayed with us.”

“I did it for you,” Alcander said.

Her head dropped in exasperation. “I know. But we’ll pretend you did it because for a
second
you realized Drustan has feelings and is entitled to a little respect after all he has done for me and you.”

Alcander’s lips pressed together in a thin line. Turning back to Drustan, Kiora explained, “We are talking to the crazy man because he is the only person we know who has made it out of the Manor—where Emane is now.”

Drustan snapped to attention. “You found him?”

“Yes, Dralazar is holding him at the Manor. It will take a few days to fly there.”

“This place, it’s dangerous?” Drustan asked.

“Yes,” Alcander replied. “That is the only reason we didn’t head straight there.”

“Oh, how very thoughtful of you to be kind to the Witow.”

“Drustan!” Kiora yelled in exasperation, sinking onto her bedroll. “Will you please stop baiting him?” Gripping her head, she lowered her voice. “I am trying to ignore the fact that they are torturing Emane as we speak. Can you two please, please,
please
stop making it worse!”

The silence forced Kiora to look up. Alcander and Drustan stared at each other across the tent, eyes narrowed, words waiting on each of their lips.

“Fine,” she snapped. “If that is too much to ask, can you at least take it down a notch?”

“Done,” Drustan said, flopping back down.

“As you wish,” Alcander said.

* * *

NIALL WAS AN ENORMOUS specimen, although not intimidating. He wore nothing but a pair of pants—frayed at the bottom and nearly see-through at his giant knees. His hair was long and tangled, hanging down his back between two large wings. The other winged people Kiora had met kept their wings pristine white. Niall’s were grey, dingy, and rumpled. She wondered if he could still fly. He sat on the sand, gazing out at the water with a forlorn look on his face.

“Niall?” Alcander called as the trio came upon him.

“Go away,” came Niall’s gruff voice.

“It must be your charm, Alcander,” Drustan muttered under his breath. “Works on everyone.”

Kiora put up her hand, stopping both of them in their tracks, and gave them a look that clearly said:
Stay here
. Drustan smirked. Alcander raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. Satisfied they had received the message, she walked along the beach and sat next to Niall. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she pulled them up to her chin.