“Spirits, me, too, please?” Lyria said, falling onto the couch and stretching a hand out for a glass.
“Ophelia doesn’t have a court,” Mila said, returning our attention to Jezebel and Erista as they each took an armchair across from Lyria’s couch. “Who is she gathering?”
“Ezalia is going to attend, given that the meeting is technically on Seawatcher land, but she’s sending Seron and the children away. And Ophelia wants you three to return with us,” Jez explained, nodding at Mila, Lyria, and me.
“I’ll attend with the Mystiques,” Erista added with a proud gleam in her eye. “And we’re hoping Cypherion and Vale will return in time, and perhaps Vale will be able to read before, if her magic has been righted.”
Having Ophelia’s second present would be beneficial, but none of us had heard much from him recently. If he didn’t make it back, we’d have to avoid the tricky mention that such a highly-ranking member of the council was missing.
I cast a look to Barrett, but he was already waving me off. “You three, go.” The prince exchanged a glance with his consort. “We’ll continue working on our matters here and begin introducing Celissia to the people as”—his jaw tightened—“my intended.”
Jezebel opened her mouth to inquire, but Erista discreetly kicked her in the shin.
“Okay,” I said to Barrett. Why was I worried about leaving him here? “But write to us should you need anything, brother.”
Barrett’s glee could have erupted at my use of the term. He teased me all throughout our preparation for the flight.
“This will always be your room now, you know,” he announced as I gathered my things from my suite in the Valley Palace. I didn’t tell him my chest clenched with the sentiment.
“Don’t you want something to remember me by, brother?” he taunted when I intentionally left behind the book he’d loaned me when I couldn’t sleep last week.
“Are you going to miss me?” he finally asked when I climbed onto Jezebel’s khrysaor with her and Mila, no hint of teasing in his voice.
That time, I told him the truth. “I will, brother.”
Barrett’s victorious cries disappeared beneath the beating of the khrysaor’s mighty leathery wings, tipped in razor-sharp scales.
I squeezed Mila’s waist. “Ready for our next battle, General?”
And she shivered back against me as she replied, “Let’s meet a queen, Warrior Prince.”
Chapter Five
Damien
Bant senta rope of gleaming light etched with inky threads rioting around the cavern, carving away walls and pillars, grand arches and a high-ceilinged foyer that allowed us to breathe for the first time in many millennia. Not that we relied on the air to exist, but the foreign, soothing inflation of my lungs nearly sent a rush of power to my head.
The seven of us gathered in the newly-defined space as Bant chipped away at worn stalagmites sand stalactites, revealing a design with a familiarity I could not place.
With his Spirit returned, he was the only one of us with strength enough to carry out this task.
My wings showered golden light upon the floor as I floated throughout the new space. Gaveny’s ocean-tinged power drifted among mine, and Thorn’s stormy clouds followed him as he zipped along the highest points, closely studying the detailing of the ceiling.
“It is grand,” Xenique observed, a bit skeptical as she hovered near a rubble-strewn staircase to nowhere. It stopped just out of sight, only the illusion of an escape. Beside her,Valyrie studied the ceiling as if looking for the stars, our two sisters’ unlit wings beating softly at their backs.
“It is as he demanded,” Bant gritted out, wielding another band of power to carve away an arch where an entrance would belong. I tilted my head at the precise placement, that inkling of familiarity budding further within me.
Ptholenix flew forward, placing the Angelglass he had reforged from shards in the spot.
“Firebird,” Bant snapped, and Ptholenix raised a quizzical brow. “Not there.”
“This is where he demanded,” Ptholenix stated calmly.
“That is where a tunnel shall be carved for rooms,” Bant argued, flexing his powerful arms as his light whipped out. So chauvinistic—the Engrossian always had been. And now, with his might unlocked…
Ptholenix sighed, his fiery wings crackling at his back with suppressed annoyance. “No, those belong beneath the staircase.”
I tuned out their bickering, sweeping a gaze over each nook and cranny. My wings fluttered as the discomfort grew.
