Chapter 58

"How is he, Bex?"

"Out like a proverbial light." The mage didn't take his eyes off Zor, a barely visible lump on the bed. Now that the sun was setting, only a few stray beams made it through the blight-covered window. By tomorrow morning, we wouldn't be able to see outside.

And my wards…they might keep the blight out temporarily, but two pissed-off Fae—maybe more, if they brought their guards—would tear through my protections like paper.

"We have to get him up and moving. We have a problem."

Bexley's pale eyes filled with worry. "I know. I overheard you all talking. I've tried to roust him, but his body has completely shut down. He used too much magic and his flesh is completely drained even if his mind was willing."

I peered down at Zorander, his face turned toward the sun, so relaxed in sleep he looked ten years younger and the weight of a hundred battles lighter.

He was so beautiful in the dying light. My fiercest protector, brutally honest, private to the point of taciturn, but here, now…I traced his sharp cheekbones, his soft lips, the dark lashes that were too long for such a savage face.

Here, with me, he was just Zor.

He was mine.

Sleep stripped away his harshness, softened his usually stern expression, and I traced my fingers over his mouth, his cheek. Zorander would lay his life down for me.

Unquestioningly.

This fierce, severe male had never once let me down, and even in this state, I knew if the Oracle arrived right now, he would take her on without hesitation.

And that scared me more than the wings growing out of his back.

"Zorander Vayle. As long as I've known you, you have never lounged about in bed for a single day. But you have to wake up. We need you." I reached for the closest wing, curled my fingers back, then decided fuck it, I had to know what those gleaming feathers felt like.

"Still so soft." His wings were warm, like Zor, always my personal heater on cold nights. "And your feathers are so beautiful. Like darkness itself covered with rainbows. They're smooth like expensive velvet."

Zor was still everything I loved—strong, capable, kind—his calloused hands curled slightly beneath his face while he slept.

But this close, his otherness was inescapable.

His coloring changed where the wings were joined at the top of his shoulders. A dusting of black faded to dark tan, the surface almost like leather, the texture pronounced but soft to the touch, the pattern mottled against the smoothness of his skin.

I dragged a single finger over that arch of bone again, wondering at the strength contained in the delicate bend, the feathers that seemed too fragile to withstand a single wingbeat.

"For the record, I don't want to do this." With a resigned sigh, I poked him in the stomach. "Wake up, Zor. You have to get moving because the blight is all around us and we're in danger."

Like the word unlocked some secret directive in Zorander's head, his eyes sprang open. "Anaria?" His gaze looked clearer than since he'd arrived, none of the exhaustion or that dazed euphoria clouding those dark depths. "What time is it? How long did you let me sleep?" He stretched his arms up over his head with a groan.

Then tried to roll over.

"What…" Zor pawed at the sheets that weren't sheets, but wings covered in black feathers, covering him from the nape of his neck to the bend of his knees. "What did you put on top of me? Get it off." He twisted and clawed, trying to escape. Trying to understand.

A feather floated to the floor. Then another.

I caught him by the wrist. "Stop, you're going to hurt yourself. Let me…"

"Why is this godsdamned blanket so heavy?" Zor grumbled, and for a second, I wished he was still asleep, looking all innocent instead of flailing around, tearing his brand-new wings apart. "Can you get these covers off me? I'm burning up."

"No, I can't pull them off you, and this room was far hotter ten hours ago." I squeezed his wrist tighter. "Zorander. I need you to listen." I sat on the edge of the bed, my hip pressed against his side, feathers brushing the bottom of my arm.

They fucking tickled, and I grinned despite the fucked-up circumstances.

But nothing about this was funny. Not even slightly amusing.

Terrifying was more like it.

"When you were caught in this last wave of magic, something happened to you." I lowered his hand into my lap. Probably not the most comfortable position for him, but I couldn't let him go. Whenever I got bad news, I liked to have contact with someone else while the world was melting down around me.

"The magic caused your body to change," I explained, choosing changed instead of mutated, because that would just freak both of us out.

"Change how?" Zor asked carefully, his pulse racing against my fingers. "What day is it? How long have I been sleeping?" He peered at the window where dim rays of light tried to break through the blight-infested window.

"I dropped the ward two days ago; you've been out ever since. We were hoping to leave for the Wynter Palace in the morning, but we might remain here one more day," I explained as succinctly as I could, because he'd appreciate the brevity, and I knew questions were ricocheting around in his head right now.

"The blight?" he asked tightly. "Are we safe from that?"

"Bexley walked me through erecting a ward. I've been reinforcing the shield twice a day. So far, nothing has gotten through. We've blockaded the cistern room off—again, with magic—and no one but Raz and Tristan have left the castle. But the blight is bad, Zor. It's overtaking the castle."

"This is the danger you spoke of?"

"No. Not exactly," I hedged. "You're going to have to brace yourself, Zor. Something has happened."

Zorander froze with that strange, unnatural stillness all my males were capable of. The stillness that meant a storm was about to break.

I squeezed his wrist tighter, my fingers barely meeting. "When you took the brunt of the magic, something happened. The magic could have been a catalyst, or maybe because you've been exposed to all three waves—Bexley's theory, by the way—but you've changed. There have been some changes."

Yes, that was better.

"There have been some changes, and you might need to make some slight adjustments going forward."

"Anaria, you are scaring me. Raziel healed me. Acted like an arse about it, but he healed me. Sure, my back hadn't really healed from the dragonfire, but I don't even hurt anymore. Now please, I beg of you, get this blanket off me before I burn up."

"That's the problem, Zor, it's not a blanket. Those are your wings."

I hadn't meantto blurt out the truth like that.

I'd planned on more of a gradual unveiling of the truth, but here we were. "They are amazing," I put in quickly. "Beautiful. Like rainbows and darkness mixed together."

"For fuck's sake, Anaria, what are you talking about?" He tried to turn on his belly, those wings weaving around dangerously with every small adjustment. "Rainbows and darkness?"

I gave him a nervous nod he couldn't see in the dark. "Maybe you should try to stand. Once you're ready." I lost his wrist, reached out blindly, and poked him hard with my finger.

"Ow. That was my eye."

"Sorry, I can't see a thing." I fumbled around on the nightstand, knocking over the untouched tray, food scattering across the floor, the pear bouncing beneath the bed, from the sound. "Wait. Don't move. Let me light a candle."

"First you want me to stand up, now you don't want me to move," he grumbled. "You're making a fuck ton of noise over there, and I thought you said wings." There was a groan and a rustle, then something passed over my face, like a breath of breeze, before I was knocked off the bed.

The only good part was, when I pulled myself up on the nightstand, I found the candle and matches.

"Good gods, what the fuck is wrong with me?" Zor cursed. "I can hardly move. What did Raz do to me?"

I struck the match and tipped the end to the wick. It always amazed me that something so small and inconsequential as a candle could light an entire room. But in this case, that flickering light revealed a terrible truth.

Zor stood with his back to me, his horrified gaze fixed on his shadow cast on the far wall, the enormous, sloped tops of his wings bracketing his head.

"What…the fuck?"

"Zor, it's okay. This will be okay." I reached out for him and touched his wing instead. He jerked away like I'd burned him. "Raz and Bex said it's just magic, and Tristan thinks with some practice you can fly."

He stumbled across the floor until he caught himself on the bedpost. "I can already fucking fly." He kept staring at his shadow, every breath jagged.

"I told them that too," I murmured. "That you didn't need wings. And yet…" I waved my hand at his silhouette on the wall. "It seems you have them."

"I don't know what to think about this." I clamped my lips together at the slight shake in his voice. "I've really been asleep for two days? And these are…real?"

I stepped closer, sliding my hand down his forearm until I clasped his hand. "I think you have time to figure this out. That you are, and always will be, the strongest, bravest male I know, and I will be beside you every step of the way."

Zor turned toward me.

Well, he tried to turn toward me, except one of his wings flared out and caught the side of my face, knocking me sideways. I forgot to release his hand and simple momentum and the added weight of his transformed body did the rest.

I landed beneath him on the floor, juices from crushed fruit soaking into the front of my shirt, one arm stretched behind me—fingers still tangled with Zor's—both of us breathing hard, and not in a good way.

"Well, fuck," he grunted. "That was unexpected. I haven't been that clumsy since I was four years old."

"You'll have to relearn some things." I worked my fingers free and tried to wiggle out from beneath him. "Like walking." I bit my lip to stop my giggle from spilling out.

"And turning around, apparently."

This time I couldn't stop myself and the laugh burst out of me before I clapped a hand over my mouth. "Yes, and that." I blew out a breath, surveying the mess of bare limbs and dark feathers tangled around me.

"Okay. Here's what we're going to do. You'll take my hand and I'll pull you up. Remember, you'll have to counter the additional weight of your wings." Gods, I couldn't believe those words just came out of my mouth. "Pretend you're carrying a fully loaded pack."

"That…might actually work." Zor grunted when I heaved him to his feet—godsdamn, he weighed more than he looked—but he was up, facing in the right direction, and was very naked.

"Trousers. Let's get you into some clothes."

He glanced down. "I don't even know where the fuck my clothes are. Do I even have clothes? I vaguely remember being doused in freezing water before they dragged me up here." I searched the cluttered floor for trousers while Zor stood with his arms stuck out, attempting to find his balance, his body jerking this way and that.

I knelt down in front of him. "Set one hand on my shoulder to steady yourself. Then lift your right foot. I'll get that pant leg on, then we'll do the other one."

His hand was warm when it closed around my shoulder and squeezed gently. "How do you know what to do?" he asked softly as I worked the leg over his foot.

"Being a slave was…hard. Especially on your body. All the younger slaves would help the older slaves get dressed." I slipped the first trouser leg up to his knee. "Okay, now change hands, that's it, and lift your left foot."

I worked the trousers up the rest of the way, went up to my knees, and fastened the buttons at his waist. "We had to get them dressed, because any slave not fit enough to serve wasn't worth feeding, according to the duke." I blew out a shaky breath, looking up at Zorander.

"There's a mass grave here at Ravenshade, too, except it's not filled with refugees. It's filled with people I know. Some of whom raised me. Protected me long enough for me to become useful." I spat out that last word.

Gods, I couldn't escape this horrid place fast enough.

"We would do what we could, but the day always came when someone couldn't rise from their pallet in the morning."

I hated the angry tears flooding down my face. Hated the impotent fury that left me feeling weak and worthless. "They were always gone when we returned. And every slave here knew that would, eventually, be their fate. Because there was no one powerful enough to save them."

Pity shone in Zor's eyes as he opened his mouth to say something comforting, no doubt.

But that was when Raziel's shout rang through the castle. "Zorander. Get your arse down here. We have decisions to make, and you've been sleeping for two godsdamned days."