6

Darling

I hate waiting.

I’m good at it. All Barbs are. So many of our missions were bloodless, sneaking behind enemy lines to observe and report, or following the path of a unit of Dragon soldiers as they moved from one town to the next. But even when we weren’t waiting for something to happen, we would wait for the moment to strike. We were always outnumbered—conscription will do that—but we were smart enough to pick the moments that mattered.

And now, I find myself in the same place, biding my time for news of the kraken to make its way to House Gryphon.

When I was a Barb I would spend hours—sometimes days—lying next to a crossroad or a bend, the perfect place for an ambush. But all that time in the tall grass and brambles was infinitely easier than the time I spend moping about House Gryphon. Even if I’ve only been returned to myself for a couple of days.

“Only fools rush in, especially when we’re talking about Dragon territory,” Vivian says with a laugh before we retire for the evening, and it’s so near to something Leonetti once said that my heart seizes. But she’s right. Of course she is. And even if Vivian didn’t know, the gryphon would. Her house has shared a border with the serpents far longer than anyone else, and they also bear the honor of being one of the only houses never conquered by House Dragon. And not for lack of trying, if Vivian’s histories are to be believed. So even though I want to throw a handful of things into a satchel and take off in a run across the mountains, I bide my time and concede that perhaps a plan is in order.

I spend the first day after I wake eating and sleeping, since I am exhausted in a way I have never felt, my muscles weak and jelly-like, my footsteps dragging when I move between rooms. It’s a luxury to lie about in the gardens eating my fill of excellent House Gryphon cooking and reading a book of poetry that I only half understand. A few of the servants are those with the frustrated boons like Lania, and when they get too near, I wave them over and release their Chaos. At some point in the day a shadow blots out the sky, and I look up to see the gryphon soaring overhead. One of the gardeners sees the sight as well and points it out to me.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” he says, voice soft in reverence. I think he might be crying.

It’s a fine way to spend my first full day back, but I am built for action, not leisure. Too many more days lazing about the garden, and I might go mad.

Luckily, when I wake the next morning, ready to meet with those in the house who may have boons, Vivian instead leads me to a small nook in the library.

“As happy as I am that you wish to help my house, I think you need to prioritize controlling the phoenix. And before we work on trying to transform, I think you should read up on the nature of the phoenix,” she says. “I have the sense you are not entirely comfortable with being an empyreal, and we think maybe knowledge will help you move past some of your trepidation.”

“We?” I ask, and Vivian smiles.

“The gryphon and I.”

I blink at that but just nod. Because how can I argue with an ancient being made of Chaos?

While I relaxed, Vivian had her scholars comb the archives for anything related to the phoenix and used it to set up an unoccupied nook in the library. This one is much smaller than Vivian’s, but it has no windows, so the area is dim enough that a single boonlight is all I need to comb through the materials.

I thank Vivian and immediately begin reading.

Most of the materials are conjecture. It seems that perhaps the phoenixes have traditionally kept their knowledge to themselves, a fact I find interesting. There are no firsthand accounts of being an empyreal from past phoenixes, although I suppose that might be because those are kept within Phoenix Crest. Instead, most of the materials seem to be more general knowledge about the empyreals. Even so, I devour them, happy to have some information, even if it’s mostly just flowery suppositions.

There are scrolls and scrolls that posit that the origination of the empyreals was to protect the island from outside threats, and then there are the artistic renderings, skilled drawings of a gryphon in repose or a barghest enraged. They make very little sense, and most of them contradict one another. But it is fun to spend a morning eating pastries, fruit, and tiny stuffed eggs and reading the dusty tomes. I can understand why one would want to pledge themselves to House Gryphon. It seems like quite a satisfying life.

For the most part I read the material and put it to the side. But there is a section of one philosopher’s argument that seems useful: the abilities of the empyreals.

There is a chart and an outline of each empyreal along with their noted abilities. The gryphon’s poison talons I already know about, but the rest are incredibly fascinating. The barghest seems to have the ability to shift its size from very small to extremely large, bigger than a fortress, if the illustration is to be believed. The dragon bears indestructible plate armor, which makes sense since Caspian’s house treasure is an armored breastplate made from a dragon scale. The cockatrice is apparently able to paralyze with sound, and the sphinx can create a “miasma of confusion,” whatever that means. The kraken can manipulate tides and currents, which makes me think of Adelaide’s ability to sail a ship faster than anyone else. Is she able to access her empyreal abilities even before she can access her kraken form?

Most interesting to me is that of the phoenix, for obvious reasons. My body has become strange to me since I woke, the same and yet not, and it feels safer to try to understand these abilities by way of a third party’s testimony than through trial and error. Mostly because I am terrified that I will lose more weeks of my life, and when I wake again things will be even worse.

The treatise, though, is mostly vague on the abilities of the phoenix. It states that the phoenix is as immutable as the flame, which seems kind of a strange thing to say. I think of the singed carpet in my room, relocated to the House Gryphon archives because of its value, my footprints now historically important. But I also think of the way I found myself on one side of the room and then the other. And then I read a sentence that chills my skin and has me standing and pacing in agitation.

“The phoenix is the heart of Chaos and can access the deepest wells of that strange and fickle power.”

The phrasing haunts me until lunch, when I begin to feel a tug, like I am being physically pulled in a direction by an invisible hook lodged under my ribs. I ignore it and spend the rest of the day tending to those who have recovered from what Vivian is calling a boon fever. All the people I meet with have boons that have improperly manifested, and I spend hours touching them, like I did Lania when I first woke. The more boons I awaken, the stronger the tug becomes, but by the time Vivian and I retire for the evening—dinner an in-room affair—I’m mostly able to ignore it.

The next morning Vivian and I meet in the central courtyard before dawn, when the sky is barest pink. It seems odd to think a few months ago I arrived in this same courtyard in an ostentatious carriage with Caspian and Talon. Now, Caspian is a dragon, and Talon is my enemy once more.

It’s too easy to remember the look he’d shot me when I disembarked, when he’d thought I was trying to seduce his brother. Oh, to have such troubles once more. It was much easier to navigate Talon’s moods when they were petty and personal.

Unwittingly my memory goes back to the last afternoon at House Barghest, how Talon turned away from me when I called to him after Caspian flounced from the Naming ceremony, how Talon refused to release Leonetti despite knowing I was right. He pledged himself to me and my cause—the cause of House Sphinx—and then promptly abandoned me in my moment of need.

How can I forgive him for turning his back on me when I needed him most?

“How are you feeling about trying to transform?” Vivian asks. She wears a simple robe and I have a matching one as well. Over a small pot of tea and pastries—me yawning and wishing the tea was something stronger—Vivian explains the process of transformation, how she basically just lets go of her human form to assume that of the gryphon in her blood. I nod and drink my tea, but I have no idea what she’s even talking about.

“If you want to watch, I can—” Whatever else Vivian is about to say is cut off as something physically pulls me across the courtyard. The insistent tug has become an urge I cannot ignore, and before I know it, I’m running across the courtyard and bursting into flames.

The phoenix demands its due.

When I return to myself, I lie in the middle of a field, shivering. My smoked lenses are gone once more, and my eyes water in the early morning light.

“Miss? Are you okay?” a voice calls.

I squint to see a person approaching, their outline haloed in bright light. “Yes, I’m fine. Just getting my bearings. Can you tell me where I am? I’m sorry, I can’t see.”

“You’re on Sunstone Farm; I’m Meredith, the matron of the farm. I saw you streak across the sky like a falling star before you crashed here. Would you, ah, like a blanket or something? No offense, dear, but you are as naked as the day you were born.”

I realize for the first time that I have no clothes. Instead I am covered in what feels like soot. Most likely the remains of the robe I wore. Vivian mentioned that the transformation was hard on clothing.

“I would be grateful,” I call back, not moving from where I sit in what feels to be a patch of clover. “Pardon my ignorance, but am I still on House Gryphon lands?”

“Aye, but just barely. Wait here and I’ll be right back.” There’s the sound of footsteps running away, and then I am alone once more.

The pull I felt earlier is gone, replaced with a sense of rightness that I know belongs to the phoenix and not to me. Vivian had referred to herself and the gryphon as “we,” but I don’t feel like the phoenix and I are two parts of a whole. Instead, I’m wondering why the creature took hold of me, forcing a transformation and bringing me where I am.

And how in the name of Chaos am I supposed to get back to Furial?

The beat of wings interrupts my thoughts, and something heavy comes to land not far away. I try to squint at it, but the sun is now full up, and without any kind of cloud cover or shaded lenses, my eyes are useless.

“Well, that was quite the display,” Vivian says. I feel her settle onto the grass beside me. “I have a few riders on the way. They’ll bring you an extra set of lenses for your eyes. Oh, and clothes for both of us.”

“I think a person who lives here is bringing me a blanket,” I say. I yawn, but it ends in a sigh. “What happened?”

“After you decided to burst into flames, I shifted and followed you. I’m not sure what you were doing, but the phoenix flew to a small ridge just outside Furial and exploded it.”

“‘Exploded it’?” I echo, confused. “I … how did the phoenix explode it?”

“I’m not certain. All I saw was you diving toward the location, changing the entire area to glass. There is a crater there that I am certain scholars are going to have a field day with. The glass left behind looks like flames erupting from the earth. It’s quite pretty.”

I swallow and try not to feel like the world is spinning out of control. I am mostly successful.

“Do you know what was there? I don’t understand why the phoenix would take over like that.” I also feel deeply uncomfortable about my body not being my own. It’s one thing to have limitations and to know what they are, but it’s quite another for those limitations to belong to someone else entirely.

“I don’t, but I am sure we will know by the morning. Also, I have a missive from House Dragon that was sent along. There have been a number, in fact, but we’ve been avoiding sending a response. I haven’t read it yet, but would you like to see it when I do?”

I shake my head a bit too fiercely. “No. Burn it. We will deal with the Dragons when it is time and not a moment sooner.”

Vivian looks like she wants to argue, but her expression evaporates as someone strides toward us. “Ah, it looks as though the person you spoke to is returning. Hello, Meredith! How are the children?”

It turns out that Sunstone Farm is a safe haven created for war orphans, and the information makes me think of Leonetti. Where is he? Where are Adelaide and Miranda, and all the rest? My heart aches, and a deep melancholy settles over me. I miss them.

Meredith settles a blanket over my shoulders, and I remain where I sit while Meredith and Vivian discuss local news. It turns out we’re half a day’s ride from Furial—flying as a phoenix is faster than even the fastest drake—and Vivian and Meredith help me navigate the landscape so that I can sit inside. I am left alone in a shuttered room so that I can see while Vivian takes a tour with Meredith, but I mostly just wait in the gloom and think.

I have to get control of the phoenix.

Singeing carpets and chasing maids with frustrated boons was bad enough, but this? This makes me want to claw the empyreal from inside my body. I will not let myself become a puppet of Chaos.

“I’m in control here, you understand?” I mutter out loud to myself. “You will not do that again, not without my consent and not without my agreement.”

But I’m alone in the room, and neither Chaos nor the phoenix see fit to give me an answer.

For the first time I understand just how Caspian must have felt the entirety of his life.