39. Hector

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

HECTOR

I t was weeks before Killian was recovered enough to get out of bed. Once he could, his torn thigh gave him an awkward shuffle.

We walked slowly, little steps along the path in Rosaline's garden. It smelled like fresh herbs and overturned earth, with just a whiff of the nearby coop carried on the breeze. The sun was nice.

I wished?—

I would've wished for Killian to have such a peaceful, agrarian life, but the thought brought me up short. Killian wasn't meant for sticking his long, graceful hands in the soil, but I didn't think he was meant for fighting and dying, either. It was easier to imagine him sweeping through the halls of the Crane palace, clad in silk, his mind on?—

Well, he'd said his forebears were artists. Perhaps that.

Perhaps he'd just rest. Gods knew he'd earned it.

Soon, we'd have to return to the wall. I could already feel Killian itching to get back to his people. It was hard, to sit aside, knowing that the landscape changed around you.

I was... well, at least I could say I was eager to get back to the smithy. The steady beat of a hammer would center me and, I hoped, give shape to thoughts I couldn't quite grasp.

I wasn't so eager for Killian's distraction. I was worried that he'd push too hard, too fast, and get himself hurt, but when I'd broached the topic, his eyes had turned hazy and dark, and he'd assured me that he knew the cost of such risks.

Really, I much preferred walking arm in arm with him through a garden he stuck out in like a pearl surrounded by sand, to the war we'd return to. Unfortunately, avoiding the war wasn't an option, and until it ended, we all had to face it. Had Killian given me another chance to stay behind and out of harm's way, I wouldn't have taken it any more now than I had when I'd first pressed the matter.

Minerva had already returned to the Raven Clan, and once it was clear that I'd recover from my battle with Avianitis, Helena followed her.

I'd stayed with the Hawk Clan for months after fleeing Urial, and even in the serene garden, things were markedly different after the attack. The Hawk was on edge, Brett himself flying high around clan lands, on the lookout for danger.

There was a sharp avian cry, and my neck stiffened. Killian froze beside me, his arms stiff like he'd lash out for a weapon at any moment. The nearest thing at hand was a pitchfork that I was not entirely sure he could lift at the moment.

But it wasn't a warning call; it was a greeting. A moment later, a large white owl sprang from the second-floor window of Brett's house and flew up to greet him.

Good... none of us should have to face our fears alone.

Seeing Paris fly to Brett's side, we both took a long, deep breath. Mine went straight to my belly, cool and full. When I let it out and looked down from the sky above, I found Killian staring at me, his eyes narrowed.

"You have a bird now," Killian said, the tilt of his lips almost sly enough to distract me from the fact that his next step was pained. The healer said he ought to move—not much, but a little every day. We hadn't gone far, but I did think the fresh air and sunlight was better for him than the closed off room he'd been stuck in for the better part of a month.

I snorted. "Theoretically, I do."

"But you haven't seen it yet."

My eyebrows shot up. "No one's seen it yet."

"Ah, I'd just wondered?—"

"If I'd fly without you?"

Killian shrugged. "Nemedans can't always control their shift so soon after their Cresting."

"Have you ever known me to surrender control?"

The tip of his tongue flashed pink when he caught it between his teeth. "Once or twice."

Heat flooded my face. "Well, not this time. I'll?—"

I bit the inside of my cheek. We'd taken a few steps down the path, but I came up short once again, stared at the center of his chest for a moment, and steeled my resolve before I met his eye.

"I'll fly with you or not at all." I watched as Killian's teasing smirk disappeared in an intense stare that held me trapped there. Thing was, I'd never minded being trapped by him. "Perhaps, when you feel up to it, you'll help me with the shift. Show me how to fly."

"As you like," Killian agreed smoothly.

I bit my lip against a smile. "I haven't actually seen you, Crane."

Killian blinked. "You haven't?"

I shook my head. "Not up close, certainly."

He stood a bit taller, satisfaction draping around him like a thick winter cloak. "Well, that's something to look forward to, isn't it?"

Gods above, I hoped my bird was half as impressive as Killian's surely was. As beautiful as he was as a man, his Crane had to be awe-inspiring.