“This would be no problem if we still had the skystone,” Ellie groaned.

“Sorry.”

“I’m not blaming you, Nox. It was just bad luck.”

She paced on the flat roof of the candle shop, her wings ruffling in the rising breeze. The sun had begun to set and the sky glowed orange, lighting the mountain range in the distant south like a row of bonfires. Nox stood pensively on the corner, staring across the city. Gussie had remained inside with Twig, to wait for Jaff to return with the doctor.

“Maybe you should blame me,” he said. “You ever notice how often the words bad luck have come up lately?”

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?” She shook her head. “Let’s focus on the positives: We caught it early. It’s only barely spread to Twig’s wings. Which means we have time.”

“Maybe a week,” he replied. “I’ve heard it spreads faster the more you use your wings. We’ve been flying for two whole days.”

“Remember, we know how to cure it.”

“But the skystone—”

“So?” She put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn and meet her eyes. “Nox, we know where the skystones come from now. Isn’t it obvious what we have to do?”

He pushed his hand through his hair, sighing. “I know.”

Ellie glanced down at the street, where most of the vendors had packed up their stalls, carts, and blankets of wares, but a few still remained, bargaining or chatting. “There’s your grandfather with the doctor.”

They flew down to meet them. The doctor was a middle-aged Kingfisher clanner, her feathers a rich, dark teal. She introduced herself as Dr. Alceda, then followed them grimly upstairs.

Twig was awake now, but still groggy with pain. Dr. Alceda knelt by his bed and took out a linen bag full of small green leaves.

“Maticca leaf,” said the doctor, pushing them into Twig’s mouth. “For the pain. I’m afraid that is the only medicine I can give him.”

Ellie nodded; she knew there was only one thing that could truly help Twig now, and it wouldn’t be found in a doctor’s satchel.

“Do you wish me to perform the surgery here, or at my infirmary?” asked the doctor.

She was met with silence, as the others stared in confusion.

“The … surgery?” said Gussie.

“Of course. There is only one treatment for wingrot.”

Ellie gasped, remembering what Red had told them—and the bony stumps of her amputated wings.

“No!” she cried. “There’s not going to be any surgery!”

“Absolutely not,” Gussie agreed, squeezing Twig’s shoulder.

Twig’s eyes went wide. He thrashed his head, managing a weak, “No way.”

“I’m afraid this is not optional,” said the doctor crisply. “It’s how we do things in Khadreen.”

“Well, we’re not from Khadreen,” said Nox. “And you can’t force Twig to—to go through with something like that.”

“Ahem,” said Jaff. “Nox … she’s right. This is the only way to be sure your friend survives.”

“We have a cure!” Ellie said. “We just need time to find it.”

The doctor raised a skeptical brow. “There is no cure for—”

“But there is. We’ve seen it work before.”

“Once,” Nox added softly. “It doesn’t work every time.”

He was thinking of his mother, Ellie knew. She put a hand on his arm. “You know that case was different. Twig’s is still early.”

He nodded, but his eyes lowered to the floor.

“This won’t stand,” said the doctor, tying her satchel shut. “Having a case of wingrot will cause unrest in the city. People don’t like knowing someone’s infected near them.”

“Just like in Thelantis,” muttered Nox.

“It’s not contagious,” Gussie pointed out. “There’s nothing to be scared of as long as people don’t get superstitious and understand the facts.”

The doctor peered at her. “You’re a girl of science, I see. Good for you. But you must know that not everyone will see things as you and I do. If word spreads about his infection, I cannot stop them from storming this place and dragging him out. If I won’t perform the surgery, they will, and I trust you see why that would be the worst-case scenario. Better to trust him to a professional, if it’s going to happen either way.”

“No one will know,” said Ellie. “We’ll keep it quiet until we’ve gotten the cure.”

The doctor shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Whatever this cure is you think you’ve found, it won’t work. I’ve seen more and more cases in the past few months, and nothing’s made a difference. I don’t know how you do it up in the Clandoms, but at least with our way, fewer have to die.”

She left, shaking her head all the while.

“Jaff,” said Nox, “please don’t tell anyone about Twig. Please. We just need time to get the cure.”

“What cure, Nox? What in the skies are you talking about?”

“It’s … hard to explain. But I swear, we know what we’re doing.”

He traded a look with Ellie, and she understood he didn’t want to say anything about their intentions. Of course not. What sane adult would just let them fly into a gargol-infested cloud?

“You’re making a mistake,” Jaff said. “Nox, the longer you wait, the more danger this boy’s life will be in.”

“Maybe the doctor’s right,” whispered Twig. “I don’t want you risking your lives for me.”

“We’ll be fine, Twig,” Nox said gently. “We just have to wait till the conditions are right, and we’ll get what you need.”

“And just what are you getting?” asked Jaff. “What cure? What’s this mad plan you’re brewing?”

“I’ll explain everything soon, I swear.”

His grandfather threw up his hands. “Why, why must you have that thick Corvain skull? Why couldn’t you have inherited your mother’s more sensible point of view?”

“Normally, I’d agree with you about the thickness of Nox’s skull,” Ellie said, drawing a scowl from Nox. “But he’s right this time. We know what we’re doing, and we can save Twig.”

“Please, Jaff.”

The old man looked at each of them, before pausing on Nox. “You’re being very mysterious. But what can I do when you look at me with your father’s eyes?”

“Thank you. I swear, this will all make sense soon.”

But their chance, as it turned out, wouldn’t come nearly as soon as Ellie had hoped. The next day dawned bright and sunny, as did the next three days after that. Every morning they flew to the roof and scanned the sky in all directions. It was the first time Ellie had ever been desperate to see a thundercloud.

But none came.

Hot, hazy doldrums set over Khadreen.

And Twig worsened.

“It’s spreading fast,” Gussie said on the fourth night. She showed Ellie Twig’s wings again. The boy was half asleep, dazed on maticca leaf. His wings were starting to lose feathers, the gray scales gaining inches along his skin by the day.

“Oh, Twig,” Ellie sighed, stroking his fluffy orange hair. “Maybe we should just fly until we find clouds.”

“I’m starting to think so too,” said Gussie. “But what if we fly three days in the wrong direction and miss a storm? What if someone finds out about Twig while we’re gone and drags a mob up here?”

She was right. It was too risky to leave Twig alone. And Ellie wasn’t entirely sure she trusted Nox’s grandfather. Not that she thought he’d betray them out of malice, but out of concern. He really thought amputation was the only answer, and she knew he was just waiting for them to come to the same conclusion. What if he took matters into his own hands while they were gone and summoned the doctor back with her bone saw?

Ellie shuddered.

“We have no choice but to wait,” she said.

Another two days passed with no change in the weather.

In the evenings, after he’d closed the shop, Jaff set out waxes and wicks and cauldrons and bottles of scent, determined to teach Nox his trade. Together, they spent hours dipping, stirring, and carving new candles. Ellie curled up on the chair behind the counter and watched, trying not to feel jealous.

Was this where Nox belonged? It certainly seemed that way. And what about Ellie?

On the sixth afternoon, feeling restless, she wandered upstairs to where Gussie had taken over the dining table. She’d assembled a new collection of parts for some invention. Ellie had no idea what she was building, but she seemed very focused.

“Gussie.” Ellie sat at the table and toyed with a wooden cog. “What’ll you do after this? After we heal Twig, I mean. If Nox stays here with his grandfather, will you stay too?”

Gussie shrugged. “Khadreen seems nice enough. I might look around and see if there’s a clockmaker or someone who needs an apprentice. Don’t much care what the work is, so long as I get to invent things. Don’t touch that!”

She snatched the cog from Ellie’s hand and plugged it into her unfathomable tangle of parts.

Ellie went to Twig’s bedside and put a hand on his forehead. His fever came and went, and right now he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. He’d been awake most of the day, tottering around the room and pretending he wasn’t in pain, but they’d all seen right through him. His marten, Lirri, was snuggled under his chin like a scarf, and for once, she didn’t try to bite Ellie when she ran a finger over her soft fur. The little creature only gave her a solemn stare. Ellie figured she was as worried about Twig as the rest of them.

Struck with a sudden need for fresh air, Ellie told Gussie she’d be back soon and jumped out the window, spreading her wings. She took a long, slow lap around the city, keeping an eye out for the Goldwing knights they’d seen earlier. But if the men were still in Khadreen, they were lying low.

The wind shifted suddenly and pushed a column of foul smoke her way. Choking on the stinking fumes, Ellie was forced to land until she could catch her breath.

“What is that smell?” she gasped, taking shelter in the shade of a vegetable seller’s stall, in what looked like Parrot clan territory.

The woman in the stall stared at her impassively. “It’s the wings, of course.”

“The … what?”

“The burn pit, for the wings they cut off the sick.”

Ellie stared at the woman, then stumbled toward a barrel and vomited into it.

“Hey!” The Parrot clanner jumped up, livid. “That my potato stock! You’re going to have to pay for the whole lot, you—what’s your clan, anyway?”

“Oh … could I work it off instead? Do some chores? I don’t have any—”

“You’ll pay in coin or you’ll pay in feathers!” snapped the woman. “We’ll see how much property you can destroy with your wings clipped, missy!”

“Sorry!” Ellie gasped, sprinting away and taking to the air. Blushing with shame, she sped quickly away. She didn’t have the money to pay for one potato, much less a whole barrel. What few coins she’d made in Cloudstone she’d left on the cargo ship, in payment for the food they’d taken.

She landed back on the candle shop’s rooftop, out of breath and sick to her stomach. No matter how hard she coughed, she couldn’t get the taste of that acrid smoke off her tongue. How many pairs of wings had they burned to create such a plume? How many people in Khadreen were really infected with wingrot? She’d seen a few wingless people walking around, but there had to be far, far more. From what she’d heard through the street chatter below the candle shop window, nobody seemed to talk about wingrot. Nox’s grandfather had mentioned it was a taboo subject. Unless they were actively dragging some poor sick person off to have their wings amputated, the people here didn’t like to acknowledge the disease’s existence at all.

Their attitude toward wingrot was only slightly better than Thelantis’s, where the sick were pushed out of the city altogether, to either recover or die alone.

Desperate for a cup of water to wash away the awful taste in her mouth, Ellie walked to the edge of the roof.

But before she could flutter down to the window, a sudden boom shook the city.

Ellie gasped and looked up.

Thunder.

And there, on the southern horizon—a dark, towering cloud.