CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 45

AUREN

Three timberwings soar through thesky, cutting lines into the clouds and leaving trails of vapor behind.

We’ve been flying hard, day and night, only stopping for a handful of hours so we can all sleep and the timberwings can have some much needed rest and time to hunt. Being around Argo while I practiced my gold-touch helped me not be quite so scared of him, but it’s still a bit terrifying to be strapped to his back hundreds of feet up in the sky.

Although, I have it easy. Slade keeps me tucked against his chest, layered in coats and blankets, his strong body the perfect pillar for me to sleep and rest against while he holds the reins.

He’s been exhausted for the whole trip, ever since he expelled so much of his power into the rip. And even though he never complains, I can see the weariness clinging to him every time we dismount. I offer to take the reins so he can rest instead, but he always declines.

Stubborn male.

The other timberwings always ride close enough to see. Digby sits behind Judd, and just past him, on a timberwing with more snowy feathers than the rest, is Lu. I think they might be keeping an extra eye on Slade, just in case.

When we packed up our meager camp this morning out on a mountaintop of rock and snow, Slade told me if we made good time, we’d be arriving at Fourth Kingdom tonight.

I felt it several hours ago—the permanent change in the air. Steadily but surely over the past few days, the air has become less stark, the whipping wind not as frigid. Now, as dusk descends, the temperature is almost...warm. I keep trying to steal looks below, desperate to see the landscape of Fourth Kingdom, but we’re above the clouds, the coverage too thick to see through.

And then, night falls.

That’s exactly what it looks like, too. A brooding darkness seems to tumble over the sky, crashing against the lingering dusk and shattering it into obscurity. But this night is different. It’s not shoveled out to the bare bones of sparse cold. It’s not sharpened with pricks of frigid ice or whipped through with the bluster of frozen wind to beat against our backs.

Instead, there’s a warmth beneath night’s cloak, one that I haven’t experienced in a very long time. Ten years of living and breathing the numbing cold that never ends. Of footsteps crunching over snow, of eyes that never saw the unhindered sun. Of skin always covered against the arctic elements.

In my part of the world, in Highbell and even in Fifth Kingdom, the sun never could break through those frozen clouds. Never could compete with its blizzards and sleet. So as we fly through the night, I bask in the warming air, feeling like a layer of perpetual frost is slowly melting away from me.

When I’m nearly lulled to sleep by its balmy comfort, I feel Slade lean down against my left cheek. “We’re here.”

My breath catches in my throat, and I turn around to ask him how he knows, when Argo suddenly lets out a loud call that knocks me back. Slade’s arm tightens around my middle, hand splaying over my stomach. “Hold on.”

I might’ve gotten a bit used to flying on Argo’s back, but his landing dives are another thing entirely.

My hands grip the saddle strap in front of me, thighs locking around the beast just as it points its nose at the ground and starts to drop. A scream threatens to spew from my mouth, but I manage to grapple it in my throat.

The dive sends my braid whipping backwards and air streaming against my face, making it almost impossible to keep my eyes open. Slade holds me firmly against him as we start to plummet past the clouds.

My stomach lurches, feeling like the rest of my body is dropping without it, while Argo’s body streams down, down, down, a coat of condensation streaming off his feathers like backwards rain.

And then, just when I think I might actually vomit from the speed of this nosedive, Argo tips up his body and lets out his massive wings. A rush of air sucks into my lungs as our descent goes from breakneck to surprisingly gentle.

Regaining my equilibrium, I take another shaky breath, just as Slade’s lips are once again at my ear. “Look, Auren.”

My eyes peel open to the dark.

And I see...

The ground is dark. Not glowing white from the moon and the snow. No snow. There’s not so much as a flake of it anywhere in sight. And just that, just that, is enough to make my eyes go wide. But then, my gaze truly takes in what I’m seeing.

There are rivers everywhere. As far as I can see, their streams are glittering below like roots stretching out from an ancient tree. They arc and bend, sparkling surfaces reflecting the lights that seem to be sewn into their twisting hems.

In the night, I can only see the shadowed contours of buildings and walls, but lights are peppered throughout the city, giving off this effervescent feel amidst the shimmering water.

The other timberwings drop down to fly at our sides, and Slade lifts a finger, pointing ahead. I lift my gaze from the ground to follow the direction he’s indicating, and my mouth drops open.

There’s a massive mountain just ahead, so large that I can’t truly take in its scope until the light of day. But right at the base of it sits Fourth Kingdom’s castle.

It’s dark, even despite the way its windows glow with light from within, and more lights litter the pinnacles and parapets. There are pointed turrets at the top, and notches of vertical grooves in its high, smooth walls. Yet instead of ramparts or outer defensive walls around it, there’s a massive moat that surrounds it. With the moat at its sides and front, plus the mountain at its back, it looks more like a fortress than a castle.

One of the other timberwings lets off a call into the air, making the others answer, as if they’re celebrating our arrival. I almost want to let out a call right along with them, and I hear Judd do just that.

But even though I’m more than ready to be done flying, Fourth Kingdom really is beautiful from up here. With dewy air and radiant rivers, friendly lights dappling the dark landscape, it’s a sight to behold, and as Argo and the other timberwings fly straight for it, my anticipation bubbles up like foam on a lake.

Behind me, Slade’s mouth skims against the shell of my ear. “Welcome to Brackhill.”

Hidden behind the rising spires at the very back of Brackhill Castle, there’s a flat-top roof open to the stars.

One after another, the timberwings circle overhead in a kind of synchronized dance. Argo is the first to touch down as he lands in the center, his talons clicking against the ashen stone floor. The roof is amazing, with the view of the mountain behind us and the protected yet open sight of the sky. It makes me forget how travel weary I am.

“This is beautiful.”

Slade’s voice comes against my ear. “It’s our private entrance when we get back to the castle on our timberwings.”

“I love it.”

The others land beside us, and Slade reaches around to unbuckle us from the saddle’s straps. He swings up and off, stomping his feet for a second before he grips me by the waist and lifts me off. As soon as my feet hit the floor, my legs tingle, and I groan at how sore I am from riding nonstop.

“You did very well for your first long trip,” Slade tells me. “I’m sorry we couldn’t take more breaks.”

“Getting here faster was better anyway.”

Judd jumps down and stretches his back, rolling his shoulders. “Fuck. It’s good to be home and out of that Divine-damned snow.”

Lu grins from where she’s petting her timberwing and feeding it a scrap from the pouch around her waist. “If you’re thinking it was just shrinkage from the cold, you’re going to be really disappointed.”

Slade laughs under his breath, and Judd chucks a glove at her face. She catches it, of course.

“Your Majesty, welcome back.”

I nearly jump as a guard peels away from the smooth wall to tuck into a bow. He’s dressed all in black leathers, very similar to the Fourth army soldiers, except he has the sigil of the twisted tree sewn in brown thread onto the left flap of his vest, and boots that are far less travel-worn. My eyes dart around the rest of the wall, which I thought was empty, but I quickly notice that there are three other guards hidden in the shadows.

“Marcoul, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Slade greets the gray-haired man with a clap on his back and a smile. “Has the royal envoy arrived?”

“Yes, Sire,” the guard replies. “They were given approval, and they’re staying on the third floor.”

Slade nods, sharing a look with Lu as she comes striding over. “Good. Anything else we should know about?”

“Nothing for me to report.”

“Thanks, Marcoul.”

The man bows and slips back into his post, body nearly disappearing against the shadows. I notice that the lanterns along the top of the wall that surrounds this open roof have very precise placement. Just enough to light the way for timberwings to land, but plenty of shadow to keep the guards hidden, especially with the twin turrets behind us.

Turning around, I look for Digby, immediately noticing the way he’s gone pale, the hunch of his body and the sweat beaded against his brow.

I hurry over. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he says gruffly. “Can someone show me my room?”

“And send for a mender,” I add, ignoring his glower.

Judd appears at his side. “Come on, old man,” he says cheerfully. “You get the best room of the house—the one right next to mine.”

Digby huffs, but he starts to hobble away with Judd, going through the domed archway in the center of the wall, leading to a set of stairs that feeds down into the belly of the castle. As soon as they’re a few paces away, I join Lu and Slade. “Don’t worry,” Slade tells me. “Judd will make sure our castle mender sees to him right away.”

I blow out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”

“You need anything?” Lu asks, turning to Slade.

“I’m good. Go get some sleep.”

She nods but then lets out a sigh, looking down at her feet. “I already miss my slippers.”

“Why don’t you just get a pair out here?” I ask.

“They wouldn’t be the same,” she says forlornly, just as she turns and goes the same way Judd and Digby did.

Slade walks over to Argo and scratches him on the neck. “Go get yourself some food and settle back into your favorite perch.” The beast trills like he understands completely, nudging his arm. Then he leaps into the air, the others following him, disappearing toward the mountain right behind us.

At my curious look, Slade says, “Their perch is built into the mountain just below.”

“They’re smart creatures.”

“Very,” he replies, coming to stand beside me. “It’s late, but I can still give you a tour now if you want to stretch your legs?”

It’s on the cusp of my lips to say yes, but then I notice the fatigued lines cutting through his face, tucked into the corners of his strained eyes.

“No, let’s just go rest. You can give me a tour tomorrow.”

With a nod, he places his hand on the small of my back and leads me toward the archway. Three steps past it, and we’re descending a set of spiraling stairs rimmed in iron. My gloved hands skim down the curved banister, the steps slightly dizzying. When we reach the bottom, there’s a corridor with worn gray rock and a long stretch of green carpet in the very center, while sconces held in iron casings flicker against the bare walls.

The ceiling is dropped here, the path narrow and feeling slightly claustrophobic, but then, Slade takes me down another set of stairs, this one wide and straight down. When we get to the bottom, the whole castle seems to open up around us. I clasp the open banister, looking down three more flights of stairs to see the grand hall below.

Dark wood and smooth white walls dominate the space. The open upper level corridors are somewhat like the ones in Ranhold, since I’m able to see clear across to the other side, every staircase and hallway visible within the squared center.

Except here, there are elaborate wood carvings that stretch from the pillars that secure the staircases, going all the way up to the ceiling. The thickly pitched wood reminds me of the inside of a musical instrument, complete with curved hollows and the daintiest of copper strings pulled from the points in the middle of the ceiling, leading down like draped tapestry to the arched windows.

“This is amazing,” I say, hands curling around the smooth wood beneath my fingers.

Across from us and down a level, I can see the others, just as they split off from a lower staircase. Lu continues down one direction, while Judd and Digby turn right and go down the hall across the castle from us, and Judd leads a limping Digby inside.

“He’s more hurt than he’s letting on,” I murmur with concern.

Slade slides up beside me. “His injuries were pretty extensive, but Hojat is the best mender there is, and if he truly didn’t think he should’ve made the trip, he would’ve put his foot down. Digby is tough, and I have another good mender here too. He’ll be looked after.”

“He was my guard for a long time. The only one I could ever trust. I always kind of looked at him like a sort of father figure. He didn’t just guard me. He protected me. Sometimes, even from other guards.”

I see Slade’s head turn to look at me.

“Midas was always very strict about me being guarded in Highbell, but he wasn’t as good about his threats as he thought he was,” I explain. “It was a common occurrence for some of the guards to behave...less than gentlemanly.”

I see his fingers tighten against the railing, and then with a perfectly serious tone, he says, “If you give me names, I’ll rot their brains from their skulls.”

A startled laugh escapes me as I turn toward him. “I think a lot of them didn’t really have impressively thriving brains to begin with, so we’ll just let them rot in their own time.”

“Fine,” he says, sounding slightly disappointed.

I laugh again, but a yawn takes over the tail end of it, making my jaw nearly crack from how wide it is.

Slade reaches down and takes my hand in his. “Come on, let’s get some real sleep, on a real bed with real pillows and blankets.”

“You really know how to sweet talk.”

Chuckling, he leads me down a set of stairs, but instead of going to the opposite end where the others are staying, we keep on this opposite end. We pass a guard on our way, who tips her head down in greeting, shooting me a curious look as we go.

The hallway walls on this level are studded with strips of the same carved and curving wood, making the ceilings appear taller. Every few feet, there’s a window tucked into the wall’s notches, the bubbled glass plaited with strips of iron. It’s too dark to see anything outside, so our reflections are all the windows reveal for now.

At the end of the corridor, Slade opens the door and then slips to the side, holding out a hand for me. As soon as I enter, there’s an immediate sense of familiarity, because the room just feels like Slade. There’s a masculine fireplace molded with an intricately carved black corbel. Set on the floor in front of it, there’s a trio of dark sofas and a table at the center.

On the opposite end is a doorway, and Slade leads me through there where I find a bed set on a raised platform, four stone pillars at each corner made of the same stone as the floor. It makes the big bed look even bigger, and the black and dark green bedding looks so plush that I can’t wait to drop right inside of it.

“Do you need anything to eat?” Slade asks behind me as he gently removes my coat.

“I think I’m too tired for food right now.”

He takes my coat and disappears into another door where I can see clothes and weapons hanging inside. I hear the telltale sound of boots being dropped, and then he comes out again, his own coat gone as well. In his hands is a shirt that he hands to me. “We’ll get you some proper clothing tomorrow, but for tonight, you can wear my shirt.”

“That seems a little intimate,” I tease as I pluck the clothing from his fingers.

Slade chuckles. “If you consider that intimate, then I’m in great need of making some things up to you.” He reaches one arm behind him and strips the shirt from his body in one smooth motion that makes my mouth water, gaze pivoting to his abs.

“Eyes up here.”

They snap up on command, and heat catches in my cheeks. “I wasn’t checking you out,” I say.

“No, I seem to remember it was my ass you liked to do that with.”

I narrow my eyes on him, and even though he’s right, I will never admit it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mm-hmm. Come to bed, Goldfinch.”

I point a finger at him. “No ravishing, Ravinger. We’re both tired and you’re still recuperating from a power drain. We need to sleep.”

His eyes skate up my body as if it’s something to relish, when really, I probably look like a wind troll with tangled hair and three-day-old clothing. “Fine. But I’ll be ravaging you tomorrow. I’ll wear tight pants to set the scene.”

I roll my eyes, though my lips can’t help but tip up into a smile. “Good luck with that,” I tell him. “Can I use the bathroom to wash up?”

“Of course,” he says as he walks over to the bed. “And you don’t have to ask. Everything in this entire castle is yours. You may go wherever you like and do whatever you please.”

He pulls back the covers while I just stare at him for a moment.

When he notices me still standing there, his brows crinkle. “What?”

I snap out of it. “Nothing.”

Turning around, I quickly go through the only other door in here and close it behind me.

Go wherever you like and do whatever you please. He said it so casually. As if it’s normal. As if I’ve ever heard it before in my life, when in fact, I have not.

A smile pulls at my cheeks, and it stays there the entire time I’m in the bathroom. My bladder feels like it’s about ready to burst, so I quickly take off my gloves and use the toilet, and then wash my face and hands. I strip out of my old clothes, pulling on Slade’s shirt before I find a comb and try to brush through my tangles as best I can. I head for the door on another yawn, but I hesitate whether or not I should put my leggings and socks back on, but no. I don’t gild anything unless I want to.

As if to prove it to myself, I press my fingers against the comb again, calling up my magic, smiling when gold drips down the length of it. As soon as it’s gilded, I drain the magic up, pressing my fingers against the marble countertop to make sure not a single drop comes out.

It’s amazing how much easier it’s already become.

When I walk out with a smile on my face, I’m ready to tell Slade that I’m actually going to sleep in only his shirt, but I stop when I see he’s already fast asleep. His breaths are feeding in and out, his face relaxed, body slumped onto the plush bed. He looks so unburdened in his sleep that I just watch him for a moment, wishing he could have that same weightlessness when he’s awake.

On bare feet, I pad over to the other side of the bed and slip beneath the covers as quietly and gently as I can so I don’t disturb him. I try to leave some space between us out of habit, yet as soon as I’m in the bed with him, he seems to sense me.

His arm comes out, gripping me by the waist, and he tugs me over as if I weigh nothing, sliding me right up against his body. I hold my breath in surprise, going still, but he doesn’t wake. He simply lets out a long exhale, as if he can relax even more now that I’m tucked against his side.

I fall asleep just as quickly as he did, with a sigh and a smile drifting from my lips.