Chapter Twenty-Five

In a swift moment, Rebel was up in the ether, the sting of ice crystals against her face. The wind howled in her ears. Her heart pounded in time with the beat of wings, as a fine accompaniment of creatures covered her shoulders and legs like a shroud of many colors. Her body floated against the air as though she were wading in the river again. But it was sky.

Below them, London spun by in an assortment of twinkling lights. A whoop of pure joy slipped from Rebel’s lips. She was actually flying. Well, technically she wasn’t doing the flying—they were carrying her. Piran chuckled above her, his head glinting as silvery as the moon. A hand grabbed her arm, as Anjeline kept her steady, floating with the help of sprites. The heat coming off her drove the cold away as they soared through the billow of clouds and the starlit space. Over rooftops and treetops, they flew, wind whispering in Rebel’s ears as her hair flapped about, mussed from the sky.

The sky.

She laughed again, a wild, heartfelt laugh.

When Anjeline smiled, wind gusted down her throat with her own laugh. “There’s a little bit of the sky inside of you,” she said. “Flying suits you.”

“It should. I wished enough for it,” Rebel breathed. Since she was a child, she’d dared to play with heights. She’d perch herself atop the roof of the Institute, challenging the odds of gravity or imagining walking closer to the edge and stepping off into the sky. She’d been fearless—or soft in the head, Gramone had told her. But she had wished to fly. To soar away from her miserable life. And now she was.

What kind of consequence would come from a wish such as this?

The winking stars went to sleep giving the sun its turn, and a vast horizon rose before them. It made Rebel feel small and utterly free. The sky lightened to a swirling purple and gold, flushing along the buildings, bathing everything in a glow. She could see the city beginning to awake. London looked so small from up here. Tiny buses, smaller cars, and miniature people, and as dawn rose, the waters of the Thames River appeared to dazzle like a glass road.

Again, she was seeing the city for the first time, through a different eye. A magical city. “How are people not seeing us?” she asked.

“There’s no one up here but us.” Piran hovered higher.

Rebel wobbled from the sprites but stayed close to Anjeline, watching the snap of her hair dance across her cheeks and her lips curve into that half smile. There was a gracefulness with which Anjeline sliced through the air, the way one might have if they’d experienced it thousands of times before. Her eyes closed for a few seconds, taking in the sensation, something she obviously missed.

Reaching beyond the small space between them, Rebel touched her hand. “You’ve flown higher, haven’t you?”

“Higher than you can imagine.” Anjeline’s voice filled with longing.

“Show, don’t tell, fire girl,” she teased.

Anjeline’s smile grew a fraction larger and she lifted higher. Her arms moved, guiding the sprites fluttering on her shoulders. With grace, she glided along the air like a wingless bird coasting on the horizon, soaring majestically, belonging here amid the clouds. Those fiery eyes met Rebel’s from afar and she felt a hum, felt her heart catch as if she’d been touched.

“Come on then, Faddi.” Anjeline crooked a finger at Rebel, her smile fully teasing. “Catch me if you can.”

The sprites tugging gave way, letting Rebel dip her arms. The creatures mimicked her motion, hovering her higher and faster. Piran laughed as she pursued Anjeline, chasing her through a mist of clouds. Her movements were weary, her legs awkward, and her arms moved in a swaying rhythm, but she felt as light as the air and as free as a fledgling.

With a wicked grin, she snuck up behind Anjeline. “Caught you!”

If Anjeline was surprised, she didn’t show it. She threw her head back and laughed. The sound was savory. It reverberated through Rebel’s chest, fluttering her belly with winged things. And then Anjeline turned her head and just looked at Rebel. Face-to-face. She felt those eyes on her like questing fingers. Then there were fingertips on her cheek.

“You caught me,” Anjeline breathed out.

The sizzling touch washed over Rebel, making her stomach perform an impressive cartwheel. Her heart turned weightless, either from the floating or from Anjeline’s nearness. Is this what happiness feels like? Her heart wasn’t used to it.

A spasm rocked her chest.

Rebel gulped in air. Her heart tripped and spat, as though it forgot it was supposed to keep her alive. Then again, her brain chided, humans aren’t meant to be up this high.

She dropped two feet, startling the sprites, and Piran caught her by the wrist. Anjeline was there in a blur, wrapping an arm around Rebel’s waist. Multiple tiny hands clung to her shoulders and legs, taking control and hovering her steadily again. She breathed a hard exhalation, unreeling tears from her eyes, and felt warmth on her face.

“You’ve pushed yourself too hard,” Anjeline said.

Piran’s wings wafted faster. “We’re nearly there, then you can rest.”

“Where…exactly is this Sun Court?” Rebel said between breaths.

“Where Courts reside, obviously.” He pointed. “See the little tower in the distance?”

Little? She stared ahead at the massive structure. “The Palace of Westminster?”

He nodded. It made sense, as much as anything made sense these days. Rebel would’ve asked more, but it seemed every answer raised more questions. For the rest of the way, Anjeline remained close and Rebel kept her eyes on the palace. It lay on the northern banks of the River Thames, its purpose to intimidate and frighten the population, to serve as the home of Parliament. And never to allow a thief within.

Once they neared, Piran and the creatures slowly descended toward the palace. Rooftops were barely visible behind a pointed series of Westminster’s towers, their spiked shadows slanted long and lean from the awakened sun. They easily sailed over Westminster Bridge, zipping by the palace gates, into the innermost parts until the center of Parliament came into view. The closer they drew to it, the more the structure’s aura changed and the sounds of the city seemed to fade. Rebel realized all had become silent. Above the pointed roofs of Westminster, the great clock tower at the north end loomed. Big Ben.

“Brace yourself,” Piran warned. “We must cross the threshold.”

“Threshold?” Rebel expected the entrance to appear out of thin air.

“There’s other entrances, but this one is faster—and wilder.”

As they neared Big Ben, Rebel could make out thin white, crisscrossing lines, like an energy field. A ghostlike film glistened over it, as if someone had wiped away a false image and she now saw what she was starting to understand came from the residue of magic. A protection ward. She sensed it then, an electric current running up from the ground into the air, vibrating to her throat from Westminster below. The buzz of magic she was becoming accustomed to. The clock tower hummed as though the earth’s heart were pulsing beneath it. They flew out fast, and straight up.

Straight toward the clock tower’s face.

Rebel realized what they were about to do. “Tell me we’re not?”

Piran chuckled. “What’s wrong, don’t know how to tell time?”

“We’re not going to hit it,” Anjeline said. “We’re going through it.”

“Neither of you are filling me with confidence.” Rebel was less worried about the clock, and more worried about what hid beyond it.

“You’ll be fine.” Anjeline grasped her hand. “Just don’t let go.”

As if my heart would let me. Her pendant seemed to weigh heavier around her neck. Anjeline squeezed her fingers, and she sensed the change as they crossed the threshold of the ghostly protection wards. She thrust out her hands, bracing for impact just as she felt glass. Felt the iron frame of the hour clock hand—until magic unspooled around her, and she found herself pitched forward, hurtling into darkness.