It took a lot of prodding and more than one handful of chicken to get Res up the next morning, but a short time later, we stood on one of the four landing platforms at the top of the castle.
Ericen eyed the edge of the platform with unease. “Is this where you execute people?”
I adjusted the saddle on Res’s back. “Only the ones I really don’t like.”
“I take it I’m safe then.”
I rolled my eyes as Ericen peered uneasily at the edge.
“This is incredibly high up.”
A smile pulled at my lips. “Don’t tell me the great Illucian prince is afraid of heights.”
The pale shade of Ericen’s skin contrasted with the indignant scowl that filled his face. “Of course not.”
Res snorted, and if ever the crow had made a more mocking sound, I’d never heard it.
Ericen glowered at him, and I laughed even as my heart stuttered a drumbeat in my chest. It’d been months since I’d flown from one of the landing platforms. Another of the many things I never thought I’d do again, just like I thought I’d never fly out over Aris with my own crow.
The platform door opened, and Kiva stepped out, Aroch trotting alongside her. “I heard you were jumping off the castle. Has Res flown this high with you before? I prefer you unsquished.”
I rolled my eyes again. “I’m not going to die.”
“You can get squished and not die.”
“She’ll be fine.” Ericen’s words steadied the beat inside me. He crossed his arms, meeting my gaze with a reassuring smile. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Thia, it’s not to underestimate her. She gets too much satisfaction out of proving you wrong.”
“You would know,” I said.
“Unless we’re talking about flirting. That she can’t do to save her life.”
“At least I’m not afraid of heights,” I shot back.
“Afraid of heights?” Kiva asked, looking delighted. “Did you know we’re over a hundred and fifty feet in the air?”
“I didn’t,” Ericen replied with an edge. “Shall I push you over to confirm it?”
“I would say Thia would catch me, but I’m still not convinced she won’t be flattened herself in the next minute.”
“You two almost sound like friends,” I noted, and Kiva blanched.
I laughed as I swung onto Res’s back. Leaning down, I whispered, “Let’s show them all what we can do.”
Rearing back, Res released a piercing call.
Then he leapt.
My half scream, half cry of joy was lost to the wind as Res dove. I’d expected him to soar straight out, to take the easy route. I should have known. After all, he had a flair for the dramatic.
Wind screamed past my ears, my eyes watering against the pressure. On reflex, I counted.
Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…
Now! I squeezed my knees, and Res’s wings snapped open, catching an updraft that sent us sailing upward. He screeched, and I felt his joy intermix with wild abandon as the wind carried us higher.
We rose faster, his wings taut against the draft. In a burst of speed, we shot past the platform to Kiva’s whooping cheer.
Stay focused, I told Res, even as the desire to lose myself to the feel of the wind coursed wild.
With the pressure of the thermal sending us upward, Res would have to fight the wind to stay level. Wings down, I reminded him. He pitched them at a downward angle, straining against the current, and we leveled out. A moment later, we’d broken free of the rising air and were gliding back around in a wide circle, a grin on my lips, a call echoing from Res’s throat.
Caliza had asked me to take Res out above the city, knowing the sight of a full-grown crow and rider would help lift Aris’s falling spirits.
Even forty feet up, the failing state of the capital was clear. Tents had been pitched in courtyards for refugees fleeing the northern towns, makeshift neighborhoods of their own. The once opulent and lush foliage that blanketed Aris had started to wither and die. We passed more than one closed shop that’d still been open when I left for Sordell.
With the images of the dying city heavy in my heart, I spent longer than planned out with Res, praying as Caliza did that his presence would give our people hope. When they cheered as we coasted above them, children chasing our shadow through the streets in hopes of catching a stray feather, it was they who gave me hope.
We returned only to funnel more Trendellan troops through the shrine, then set out again. This was our last day of freedom in the skies, for come tomorrow, we’d set out for Elaris, and war.
* * *
That night, I stayed sitting at the patio table long after dinner had ended. I lounged back with my feet up on the railing, surveying the quiet garden beyond and replaying the tactics meeting that’d just ended. We had a solid plan—hit Razel first before she could finish fielding more troops, led by Rhodaire and Trendell from the front and supported by Jindae and the Ambriels from behind.
Razel thought she’d destroyed the Jin rebels and broken the Ambriels, making their approach from behind key to our plans.
Two days from now, we’d know if it was enough.
I adjusted the plate of orange cakes resting in my lap. Already I felt a little sick, my stomach full to bursting, but I ate another.
Res groaned from beside me. He perched hunkered down, his wings spread, powdered sugar dotting his black feathers.
“We’re finishing this plate,” I informed him. He groaned again.
“I can help you with that.” Ericen’s footsteps were light on the patio, the shadows cast by the sona lamps sharpening his features. He dragged a chair over to my other side and dropped down, propping his boots up on the railing. I offered him the plate, and he took a cake.
The silence between us was comfortable, and for a little while, I simply breathed in the scent of fruit trees and listened to the crickets chirp.
“Have you ever fought in a war?” I asked when the cakes were gone.
Ericen dusted the powdered sugar off his hands. “I haven’t.”
“I…think I’m scared,” I said softly. “I’m afraid of losing more people I love.”
The prince was quiet for a moment, and I closed my eyes against the rising panic. What if Kiva was hurt? Or Res? I couldn’t go through that again.
“My mother always said having people you love is a weakness,” Ericen said at last. “She loved people, and they were taken from her, and she was powerless to stop it. She never wanted to be weak again.”
Was that why Razel had treated him so horribly? Because she hadn’t wanted to love him, lest she lose him too?
“But she was wrong,” he said, a note of finality in his voice. “Love doesn’t make you weak.” He looked at me, his piercing eyes pinning me to the spot. “It makes you stronger.”
My breath caught, a gentle chill prickling along my skin despite the warm night. Ericen’s gaze lingered. I took his hand in mine, powdered sugar and all, and held it. He squeezed my fingers gently, his sword calluses rough against those from my bow. When our grips slackened, our fingertips remained intertwined.
He leaned his head back against the chair, staring up at the clouded sky. Without a word, I tossed him one of the remaining two orange cakes. He caught it with his free hand, and we ate in silence.
War had broken both our families. Its echoes still haunted us.
But we could be better than our parents’ legacies. Their mistakes didn’t have to be our own.
Come tomorrow, we would march to battle. But for tonight, I was content to sit beside a boy who had once been my enemy, cocooned in the sort of silence that sometimes knitted broken things back together.