Despite how much he’d been dreading this day, it was almost a relief to Nox when they reached Khadreen. At least it was enough to shake Ellie out of her stubborn silence. She’d barely said two words since last night. He figured she was still angry at him. Not that he didn’t deserve it; he’d known he was riling her up. But honestly, sometimes she just found his nerve and pressed …

He still wasn’t entirely sure why her notions about the islands in the sky—this Tirelas—bothered him so much. He got an uneasy feeling when he thought of the place, and not just because of the gargols they’d found there. All he knew was that it felt like bad news, like a tall, dark door that, once opened, would unleash a storm of trouble.

“You coming?” he called to Twig, who flew some distance behind them.

Twig waved in response. The journey seemed to be taking a toll on him, and he’d been lagging behind since morning. Or maybe he was just really focused on looking for leopards. Either way, they had to slow to let him catch up.

Then Granna led them over the last hills and to the city that waited.

Unlike Thelantis, Khadreen had no wall around it, and no guards to prevent people from flying in. It was a sprawling, low-built city clustered around three tributaries, which met in one wide, slow river. Also unlike Thelantis, there seemed to be no organization to the neighborhoods and districts. Most of the buildings were wooden, with thatched roofs, and markets crooked through the streets beneath canopies of brightly colored fabrics.

“There is a saying you must remember,” said Granna as they banked lower, in preparation to land. “There is no king in Khadreen.”

“Who’s in charge?” asked Ellie.

“No one. There’s no governor, no council, no guard. Each clan has a claimed neighborhood, and they might keep peace within their own boundaries, but stepping from one street into another could take you into an entirely new set of rules. When in doubt, it’s best to be polite and quiet. Mind your business and everyone else will mind theirs.”

“A city with no laws!” Gussie exclaimed. “Sounds like chaos.”

“On the contrary, you’ll be surprised to see how civilly everyone gets on. Not that there aren’t scuffles from time to time. Certainly alliances form between some clans, while feuds between others make for … interesting developments. But for the most part, and aside from some shady wheeling and dealing, Khadreen gets on well enough.” She paused, then added, “The city has its own way of dealing with troublemakers.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, imagine a gang of Macaw planners roughed up a crew of Nightjars. The next day, all commerce and clientele in the Macaw businesses would stop. No shoppers, no traders, no one to dine on our delicious coconut pies or purchase our pottery. We would be shunned until we made reparations—as we would rightfully owe.”

Nox surveyed the vast, dusty city and felt his stomach tumble over. Did he really have family somewhere down there?

“Is there a Crow neighborhood?” he asked.

“I don’t believe so. Those without a clan section of their own can usually be found in one of the older, more central streets. Such merchants and craftsmen can often make an alliance with a stronger clan for a percentage of their profits.” She smiled encouragingly. “If your people are here, young man, Macaw clan will know of them.”

Despite her assurances that Khadreen was one great orderly system, the skies above it were certainly not. People flew in all directions, without any sort of pattern to their routes. They had to fly in a wild, zigzagging course, dodging groups of green-winged Parrot clanners, hot-tempered Kingfishers, Sunbitterns with their wings patterned like great eyes, boisterous Hoatzins hauling nets filled with reeking garbage, which Granna said they turned into the finest compost in the south. Many of the clans Nox didn’t recognize at all, and their languages were as varied as their feathers.

He remembered Tariel telling them earlier that day that only a few of the southern clans—including the Macaws—spoke what they called tradesong, the common language used between clans to communicate and trade goods. To Nox, it had only ever been the language, the one everyone in the Clandoms spoke. But here, it was one of dozens of tongues, and the words a clan used with one another might be entirely different than the ones they used with outsiders.

At last, they landed in a bustling avenue lined with multicolored canopies. This was clearly the Macaw clan’s territory; nearly all the vendors and craftsmen had the same rainbow wings as Granna and Tariel, though most of the shoppers looked to be visitors from other clans. While the stalls boasted a wide variety of wares, by far the most common was pottery, the Macaws’ specialty. Nox spotted half a dozen potters within a stone’s throw, bent over wheels and lumps of clay.

“Granna Tarkin!” someone called out, and soon the words rang down the street as people flocked to Granna’s side. They hugged the old woman and pinched Tariel’s wings, admiring their growth. Nox guessed that Granna was quite the popular figure among her own clan; everyone seemed eager to speak with her.

Pushed back by the wave of Macaws, Nox, Ellie, and Gussie found a shady spot to sit, and gratefully accepted cold coconut water from a beaming vendor.

“No, no!” she said, refusing their coin. “Any friend of Granna’s is a friend of ours.”

“Where’s Twig?” asked Ellie.

Nox looked around, wondering if some animal had caught Twig’s attention. But then he spotted the boy across the street, sitting against a wall with his eyes shut.

A flutter of unease drove Nox to his feet. Handing his drink to Gussie, he said, “I’ll get him.”

Twig stirred when Nox prodded his leg. “Huh?”

“Come on, we have drinks and shade. What’s wrong?”

Twig blinked hard, then shook his head. “Nothing. Just tired, I guess.”

Odd. Of all of them, Twig was always the one with energy to spare. Nox took his hand and hauled him up, then brought him to the others. He started looking better once he had a cold drink in his hand, and Nox supposed it might be the heat getting to him. Twig was on the small side, and his pale skin was already red from sunburn.

Nox turned his attention back to Granna, who was telling the crowd about the gargol attack on Brightbay. They listened in horrified silence, then, when she’d finished, all scrambled to speak at the same time.

“Hush, hush!” Granna ordered. “You first, Red.”

A Macaw clanner stepped forward, and at first, Nox did a double take. The woman had no wings—only a short cape that covered her back. But when she moved, the cape fluttered and he caught sight of two stumps on her shoulder blades … where her wings had been cut off.

“You’re not the only one with a story like this, Granna,” Red said. “Since two weeks ago, we’ve been hearing reports of gargols smashing through houses. We’ve even heard of attacks happening in broad daylight—no cloud in sight.”

“There was a bad storm five nights ago!” shouted another Macaw. “Word has it they tore apart a whole row of houses in the Sunbittern neighborhood. Two people died.”

Everyone was nodding, then more tried to share their own stories.

Nox turned back to his friends. “You hearing this?”

They nodded gravely.

“Attacks in broad daylight,” Ellie whispered.

“It wasn’t just one rogue gargol,” Gussie added. “They’re changing their behavior.”

Hearing his own name mentioned, Nox turned to see Granna pointing his way. At once, the Macaw named Red waved her hand.

“I know who he’s looking for! The Corvain shop—it’s over in Ibis clan territory.”

Nox’s heart flipped.

They were really here.

His family.

“Nox, that’s great news!” Ellie said, jumping up. “Oh skies, you must be so excited!”

Excited? More like so-nervous-he-could-puke.

Not that he’d ever, ever admit that to Ellie Meadows, of course.

“These old wings need a break,” said Granna. “Tariel, you and Red take Nox to his people. But I want my goodbyes first!”

She hugged each of them, made sure their satchels were stuffed with food, and made them promise to stop in if ever they passed by Brightbay again.

“And,” she said in a lower voice, “if you ever need shelter, you’ll have friends in the Macaw clan. Just fly toward Elephant Rock to find us.”

“Elephant Rock!” exclaimed Twig.

She gave him a knowing smile. “Anyone in the jungle can point you to it, just ask. I … get the sense you four aren’t heading back to the Clandoms anytime soon. Just know if you need it, the Macaws will look after you. I’ll see to it.”

“Thank you,” Nox said quietly, wondering how much the woman had guessed about their situation.

Tariel and Red waved at them to follow, and they took off at a brisk walk. Twig trailed behind, until Nox tugged his arm so he wouldn’t get separated in the crowd.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Nox asked.

“Just tired,” he sighed.

Nox kept an eye on him as they walked; it was better than thinking about where they were going, and who they were going to meet.

But the thoughts crept in anyway.

How many Corvains were there? Did he have aunts and uncles, a horde of cousins? Did any of them have the same fireproof-ness he did? How would he even go about asking a thing like that? Would they ask him about his mother? What would he say?

He didn’t realize how hard he was clenching his teeth till his jaw began to ache.

Red and Tariel led them through a wide plaza where many street performers were putting on little shows. Knots of spectators gathered around each one, and the music of many different instruments and songs mingled together in the air. As they walked, Nox watched a team of fire dancers turning cartwheels while juggling blazing torches, without a burn on them. They had the bright pink wings of Flamingo clanners. Their skill protected them from the flames, he thought bitterly, not some mysterious family curse.

“Nox!” Ellie shouted, waving a hand in front of his face. “Hello?”

“Huh? Are we there?”

“No, I said get down!” She pulled him to the ground, and he blinked and realized Gussie and Twig were already sitting behind a bunch of other people. They were pretending to watch a puppeteer with a dangling doll that, Nox realized, was likely meant to be King Garion of the Eagles. Tariel and Red were standing by, looking confused.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Ellie pointed. “Trouble.”

Two men were walking through the crowd, immediately identifiable by their long white cloaks and the golden embroidery on their tunics.

Goldwing knights.

“What in the skies are they doing here?” Nox whispered.

“Could be any reason,” Gussie said. “Or … they could be looking for us.”

“No one in the Clandoms knows where we are.”

“Unless someone saw us steal aboard that Albatross ship,” she pointed out. “Or they could have been here for weeks, waiting in case we turned up.”

He watched the two knights warily. They were certainly looking for someone, judging by the way they scanned the crowd. They weren’t there on a holiday.

The people of Khadreen seemed as suspicious as Nox, and he saw heads turn as the knights strode by, eyes narrowing.

“Friends of yours?” asked Tariel.

“Don’t worry,” said Red. “Nobody in Khadreen trusts those guys. They’re Garion’s pet dogs and we know it. The Eagles have few friends in the south. If they’re looking for you, they’ll have to search long and hard before anyone points them your way.”

A pair of Parrot fledglings wandered up to Twig and shyly asked if they could touch his wings. He didn’t seem to hear them, and Gussie shooed them away.

Nox frowned at Twig, not liking the way he stared vacantly ahead.

“The knights are gone,” Tariel announced, peering through the crowd. “It’s safe to keep walking.”

The plaza ended in a tangle of narrow streets, which Red navigated with ease. But now they walked more quickly, heads down, watching for trouble. Nox’s guard was up again; he hadn’t quite realized he’d lowered it so much since arriving in the south. But knowing the king’s men were here was enough to make him immediately paranoid again.

“Watch it,” said Red when an out-of-control donkey cart came speeding across the path in front of them. She stopped so suddenly that Nox walked into her, his shoulder bumping the stony stumps of her wings.

“Sorry!” he said, backing away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to …”

“It’s all right. It didn’t hurt,” she sighed. “I know you’re wondering about my wings. Those did hurt, and sometimes still do. Phantom pains.”

“Were they amputated?” asked Gussie.

Red nodded. “It’s how we deal with wingrot in the south. Cut it out the moment it’s detected, and you might stop it from spreading.”

“That’s … brutal.” Ellie looked horrified.

“Yes, but necessary. I might not be alive today if I’d tried to keep them.” Red’s face went hard. She cleared her throat. “We’re almost there. Let’s keep going.”

Nox tried to imagine making such a choice—keep your wings and risk your life, or cut them off altogether. He shuddered, hoping he never had to be faced with such a decision.

Then they turned a corner and Red stopped again. This time, it was to point to a small candle shop across the street.

“There it is,” she said.

Nox stared, his throat going dry.

Above the shop’s door swung a small wooden sign, which read TANRA CORVAIN, CHANDLER. Below it was carved a curling ashmark.

“That’s them, Nox,” Ellie said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Your family. Ready to go in?”

Of course he wasn’t ready. He wanted to lift into the air and fly as fast as he could in the other direction.

But after trying and failing to swallow the nervous knot in his throat, he nodded. “Right. Let’s go meet my family.”