Chapter 57

The next few hours were a haze of waiting, making plans, those plans being scrapped, and a pointless, frustrating argument about which was more painful, growing wings or growing fur, which culminated in the flipping of a table and Tavion deciding that he did, in fact, need something to drink besides wine.

Right then and there, I resolved that when this was over, Raz and I were definitely going to the beach, even if I had to drag my broken, beaten body over the warm sand and down to the water.

Tristan should be almost to the Wynter Palace by now if he'd calculated the distance correctly. When he returned late this afternoon, we'd know if that was still a viable destination.

Or if we had to come up with yet another plan.

Raziel made that first trip to Whitehall count, bringing back an armful of day-old breads and fruits, choice dried sausages, and an entire wheel of cheese. But we all dove for the waterskin, so cold condensation dripped down the sides.

"The kitchen is stuffed with food. Stuffed. They have a well inside the kitchen and the water is clean. I need more waterskins to fill. The armoires are full of dresses, if there is anything you need, Anaria."

"Time," Tavion said wryly. "That's what's in short supply around here."

My husband was right. I'd reinforced the warding around this wing of the castle and sealed the door to the cistern room, hoping to buy us more time. But for now, I'd enjoy this glass of crystal-clear water, which was, quite possibly, the most delicious thing I'd ever tasted.

"What about Lord and Lady Whitehall?" Tavion asked. "Their guards?"

Raziel paused, looking uneasy. "Gone. The iron door was wide open, the padlock broken. Not sure who set them free, but the chances they'd come here…They'd never survive the blight. They'll head west like everyone else."

Tavion muttered in agreement, and I thought the logic sound enough not to argue.

Raz left for a second load while I filled a glass with water, piled food on a tray balanced on my hip, and headed back upstairs to Zorander.

Walking through the castle holding a tray was pure muscle memory, beaten into me since I'd learned to walk, and something I was incapable of forgetting, down to exactly where to place my feet to avoid the squeaky floorboards so not to wake the duke and risk a whipping.

Gods, I despised this place.

The way it stripped away any power I'd earned these past months, leaving me revealed as what I really was. A young girl with no discernible training or skillset, only enough raw power to knock down a building or destroy an entire realm.

All the realms, the way things were going.

I hipped my way through the door, taking a smidge of pride in the fact I didn't spill a drop of water, nor shift the pile of grapes on the translucent porcelain plate, and nearly gagged when I hit a wall of choking humidity.

Magic was so thick the air was sludgy. Thick like I was walking through soup or molasses. Like down in the tunnel portal, I remembered, horror trickling through me. That odd, cloying stickiness that clung to my skin and hair like the magic was unwilling to let me go.

In any other circumstances, I would have opened the window, but considering that would be suicide, I headed in the direction of the bed, bare feet silent on the thick woolen rug.

"Zor. I brought water." Besides the gloaming darkness, there was too much of Zor's dark power in the air for me to see what was right in front of my nose. When my thighs hit the edge of the bed, I moved to my right, toward the nightside table. Three short steps and I set the tray down, almost spilling the water in the process.

"Wake up. I can't see a thing, and you don't want me to open the blinds. The sun's even brighter than it was a few hours ago."

A soft snore was his only response, but at least I knew where he was.

"Zorander Vayle. It's time for you to wake up and eat and drink something. Then you can go back to sleep until dinnertime. I might just join you," I murmured, thinking that was the best idea I'd had in a long time. "Come on, Zor, open your eyes."

My reaching hand found something I did not recognize. Something hard, flexible, and covered in soft skin. Velvety, almost, like the inside of a dog's ear. Warm, too, and I ran my thumb along the length until realization clicked in my head and I snatched my hand back.

That was Zor's back.

No, that was the thing growing out of Zor's back.

I set down the water and crossed to the window, opening the thick drapes so a single shaft of light fell over Zorander's torso like an executioner's cleaver.

Above his shoulder blades sprouted two long, slender blades of bone covered in black, patterned skin. They were two feet long, angled to rise above his head, yet hinged in the center to fold over and lie flat against his back.

Delicate like bird wings.

And the skin covering them had a nuanced iridescence, shimming with rainbows of color in the ever-changing light. I leaned closer, peering at every small detail. Smaller protrusions lined the bottom edge of the blade, evenly spaced, larger by the hinge and smaller as they approached the tip. I dragged my finger across the bumps, feeling the sharp poke of spines.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was one thing to listen to Bexley and Tristan spout their theories. Quite another to see—with my own godsdamned eyes—these abominations growing out of Zor's back. Maybe Raz could use his healing magic to slice them off, like a mole or an extra finger or toe.

Think, Anaria, think. There has to be a solution to this. Something Raz or Bexley can do to stop this from happening.

But right in front of my eyes, the velvety bones lengthened, those smaller protrusions growing larger, unfurling into…feathers?

Black feathers with a magnificent iridescence, like they'd been kissed by a rainbow, darkness and color wrapped into one. And Zor's magic writhed in the room, so furiously I could feel its panic, the air tight and suffocating, still dripping with humidity.

Everything changed within the span of that single sunbeam.

Zor's twisting shadow magic, seeping from the feathers unfurling with gleaming, brilliant darkness, the wings elongating until they dripped down to the small of his back. Beyond.

I don't know how long I sat there.

Hours, maybe.

Watching in horrified fascination until Zor's wings were fully formed.

Almost as tall as Zor, they draped over him like a downy blanket, the air in the room finally cool and dry, his magic dormant by the time I pushed my aching body out of the chair and slipped through the door to tell the others.

When Tristan returned,after reporting the palace was miraculously untouched, I told the story again, corroborated by Raz, who'd already checked on him twice, and Tavion, who was convinced this was some sign our fortunes were turning.

All I was sure about was how hard it would be for Zor to move with those things attached to his shoulders, much less ghost himself all the way across Caladrius to the palace. And when Tristan's worried gaze met mine, I knew he was wondering the same.

It was one thing to get a boost to your powers. It was completely another to have two wings attached to your body that were nearly as tall as you were.

"How heavy do you think they are?" I asked Tristan softly, choosing a golden pear from the food piled on the table between us. Tavion—more likely his pushy wolf—had growled at me to eat and drink and regain my strength, and there was nothing else to do anyway except wait for Zorander to wake up.

"If his wings truly have feathers, then not much. Bird's bones are hollow. Strong but light, and feathers are aerodynamic, but they aren't heavy. Not like mine, which are leathery, and my bones are denser. Not as dense as Zephryn's, though."

"How long will it take him to learn to use them?" I tried to picture what that would even look like. I'd never seen a Fae with wings. A rare few had tails, and others were shifters, choosing to remain in their Fae form whenever they were around other Fae.

His expression shuttered before he answered. "I'm more worried about how long it will take him to learn to walk. His balance will be off. He's a trained warrior, his body is a weapon, and now everything will be vastly different. Flying is a long way off, by my guess."

"Your guess is probably on the money." I swallowed around the hard lump in my throat. "What about getting him to the palace? Can he move himself there using his magic?"

"That's a question for Raz or Bex." Tristan shook his head. "But my fire magic is connected to my shifting magic. Like a common thread runs between them, one I can pull whenever I need it. How hard I pull decides whether you get the beast or the flame."

I wondered about the hair-thin thread inside of me that now led to the deep underground ocean swelling at my center. About how I'd trapped the Oracle with a single tug of that thread.

Wondered what else I could do if I wanted.

Like mine, Zor's magic was shadowy, but less tangible. His wings were black as night, and now I wished I'd taken a closer look at the patterns. Besides the iridescence, there was a definite dappled design to them.

"We can ask Raziel when he gets back." I scrubbed my cold arms, pulling my knees up to my chest, wondering how soon that would be.

Raz and Tavion split their time so there was always someone patrolling this wing with Tristan, Tavion monitoring the perimeter and Raziel making one final trip to Whitehall before dark. Both for more water and to raid their apothecary if they had one. Bex had been tasked with keeping watch over Zor, and Tristan had been shoveling as much food into himself as he could ever since he'd returned.

"My return flight was against the wind, and I had to stay high to avoid the ash in the air," Tristan said, piling meat and cheese onto a piece of bread and stuffing the entire thing into his mouth. "Tomorrow morning you'll be on my back. I'll need all my strength. I'm not taking any chances, princess. Not with you."

"Let's see if any of us are traveling tomorrow."

I would fortify my warding around the castle before we went to bed, but outside, black had already overtaken the lower windows. There were only a few small spots where you could still see outside.

Not that there was much to see except destruction.

Ravenswood's once-beautiful gardens were buried in blight, rot dripping from every bush and tree, thick black vines snaking over every surface. I suspected they were crawling up the sides of this castle right now.

They might crush this place once they became strong enough, and I didn't have it in me to be sad. Then the air tightened and Raziel appeared, my already-cold skin prickling.

"We have a problem." He dumped an armful of herbs and another wheel of cheese onto the table, then unslung the waterskins from his shoulder and set them down. "I took a closer look at the dungeon on my way through. No one set the Whitehall's free. They clawed their way out, gouging straight through the iron bars, through the padlock, and that shank was a good inch thick."

"Iron nulls magic," I said, more to myself than anyone else.

"So how could they claw through?" Tristan asked, already climbing to his feet. "Unless…" Our eyes met with the same horrifying realization. "Unless the magic somehow…changed them?"

"That was my thought as well," Raziel said quietly enough I knew he'd been having that thought the entire way back here. "Where is Tavion? We have to get Zor up; we need his input on this."

"He's sleeping," I said flatly.

"Wake him," Raz told me flatly. "If the Whitehall's were transformed like Zor was, then fuck knows what powers they have now. One thing's for sure, they knew we were here. If they're coming for us, we need to be ready."