“Kestrel!” he roared louder, as if her voice were bellows to the fire of his wrath. “I’ll kill you for this! You hear me?”
There was no reaching him.
He wouldn’t even listen to her. Wouldn’t even let her try to help him.
If she dared any closer, he would hack her to pieces before she could even attempt to summon her magic. She wasn’t even certain she had any left in her just yet. She was already spent. But she would’ve tried. She would’ve done anything to right this wrong, if only he would’ve let her…
Kestrel clutched the spot where her ring was usually dangling around her neck, forgetting that the space would stillbe empty. But oh, how she wished it wasn’t. She wanted Aenwyn there. Wanted the comfort clutching her ring would provide. After all, she was the only person in all of Grimtol who could know how Kestrel was feeling.
Close to Leighton but half-buried in the earth lay Micah. Or at least, who she thought was Micah. It was difficult to tell without his usual crooked grin or the way his eyes always looked like they were scheming. There was no joy about him now though. No teasing shenanigans brewing in his skull. His face, slick with tears and splotched red, was the grimmest sight she thought she’d ever known. And even before she could scan their surroundings for Efrem, she knew—somehow sheknew—what the reason was.
“No,” she muttered, hand clutching her breastbone tighter. The scars were still tender there, her fingernails making her wince.
Micah’s eyes crawled up to hers. Hatred burned in their depths.
Kestrel staggered back, one foot resoaking as it slipped into the pond.
Her magic had done this. The same darkness that had been within her mother, and now she had released it as well.
But she couldn’t take all the blame, could she? She hadn’t fully meant to. She had just been filled with so much hurt and anger that she’d lost control. Just like her mother had. Kestrel had been provoked. It was an accident. A mistake.
That wasn’t how the people would see it though. Rumors would abound now, the Corrupt Daughter to the Corrupt Queen.
This would be her legacy.
Blamed for Efrem’s death.
For Signe’s gruesome transformation.
For Leighton’s maiming.
A gentle voice eased in behind her. “Come on.”
Kestrel’s wet eyes met Elora’s. There was nothing she wanted more than to throw herself into her arms. But then she remembered what the queen had said. They had plotted to kill her. The queen had demanded it. But the princess was a prisoner, Kestrel reminded herself. Would she have really had much of a choice in what the queen told her to do? Besides, when the moment had come, Elorahadn’tdone the queen’s bidding. She’d been the only one to come and save her.
And maybe Kestrel was foolish to trust her now, but there was a tenderness in her gaze that she couldn’t ignore. An unspoken plea for forgiveness, and Kestrel wanted to give that to her, with all of her heart. Wanted to have someone by her side after all of…this.
For now, she told herself as she started to walk toward the princess. They could talk more about everything later, but for now she would choose to trust her.
“Wait,” Kestrel said, something from her original vision tugging at her. “What about the feathers? Your people’s wings, we never found them.”
“Stop them!” bellowed Leighton, thrashing more wildly at the sound of Kestrel’s voice.
Elora shook her head, white hair sopping wet and clinging to her shoulders. “It’s not important. We have to go.”
Before Kestrel could reach her, she noticed the blue orb on the forest ground. She remembered then that the underwater vision had shown her the power of the orb as well—it had opened the creature up, a doorway to some place that few ever returned from. She now knew what that orb could do. The power it contained. And she certainly didn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands.
Scurrying as fast as her healing wounds would allow, Kestrel limped over to the orb, grabbedit, and fled.
“Guards!” Leighton kept shouting, spit spewing from his lips like molten lava. “By order of your king, I command you! Apprehend her!”
Tears were streaming down Kestrel’s face when she reached Elora again. “Put the ring on.”
“Are you…are you sure? Micah, he’s still?—”
Kestrel felt the strength she possessed shatter. She stared at the half-buried prince, horrified. He had been her first friend. When Leighton had betrayed her at the Fortress of Thirst, it had been Micah who’d returned to save her. Micah who held her hand as they marched through Irongate. Micah who had made her laugh and feel welcome in his home.
Her first friend.
