His own voice echoed back. Gavriel delved deeper into the maze of tunnels. He met several cave-ins and numerous branchings. Each time, he chose randomly and marked his passage with a smear of blood. He called her name again and again, uncaring that something else might be drawn to the sound of his voice.
In one of the smooth Sinn-bored tunnels, a dull boom echoed, followed by a strong tremor that sent loose pebbles skittering at his feet. Gavriel braced himself, but the shaking finally stopped. Another collapse somewhere in the labyrinth of tunnels. The mountain was shifting, settling. Time was running short.
He had almost given up hope when he caught a whiff of vetiver and almond blossoms. Spirits lifting, he followed it through an empty cavern, past several smaller tunnels, and into a place where a shallow lake of still water had gathered. There, on the rocky shore, sat a slight figure with flaxen hair. Her head lifted.
“Gavriel?”
Relieved laughter spilled out. He ran up and pulled her into an embrace, inhaling the smell of her hair. “Thank the gods! Are you hurt?”
When he pulled back, her eyes were wide. “I met a Sinn. Gavriel, it spoke to me . . .”
She took a step and stumbled.
Gavriel caught her. “Spoke to you?”
She nodded. “They are not what we think. They’re intelligent.”
He lifted her in his arms. She made a weak protest, but her head rested against his shoulder. Gavriel retraced his steps through the tunnels. Faint tremors shook the rock walls every few minutes, speeding his footsteps. They emerged just as dawn broke over the Zamir Hills. Gavriel swore softly.
Kal Machena was gone.
He could see a trail of faint scuff marks in the dirt, ending at a gravel road. She could have gone in either direction. She had an hour head start, and he knew how skilled Kal was at hiding—especially in the hills she’d grown up in.
He glanced down at Cathrynne, at the fading bruises on her face, the blue shadows beneath her eyes. She was in no condition to help him search for Kal. And the girl clearly did not want to be found. Perhaps she deserved to be left alone, as he had promised.
Free will. Travian’s greatest gift to his children.
“Hold tight,” he ordered. Cathrynne hesitated only briefly before her arms slid around his neck, fingers locking at his nape. He secured her against him, one arm behind her back, the other under her legs.
His wings extended to their full span, fourteen cubits of midnight velvet catching the last rays of sun. He crouched slightly, then pushed upward with his legs as his wings swept downward in a powerful stroke. They shot skyward, the ground falling away. Cathrynne’s arms tightened, her face pressed against his shoulder.
Gavriel angled east, toward the sea. Toward Everfell.
He flew through the night. The stars wheeled overhead as Cathrynne slept in his arms, her body warm against his chest. Dawn approached from the east, a pale line dividing sea from sky.
First gray, then pink, then a fierce orange that painted the underside of scattered clouds. The Parnassian Sea stretched below them, dark waves tipped with gold. Her weight was nothing to him. Still, he felt her presence like an anchor—not a burden but a tether to something he’d never allowed himself before.
The sun breached the horizon. Light spilled across the water, a path of fire leading to Arioch. The city appeared in the distance, white stone walls rising from rocky cliffs, the towers and spires of the colleges catching the new day’s light.
Gavriel banked north toward the wild coastline where Everfell stood alone on its promontory, a mound of gray stone against green hills, brambles twining along its walls. He landed on the veranda that extended from the eastern wing, opened the glass doors with one hand, and strode inside.
Edvin Yarl was coming down the staircase. His face lit up.
“Lord Morningstar! Thank the gods you found her,” he said with feeling.
“There is much to tell you,” Gavriel said, “but we must get her settled first.”
Cathrynne stirred in his arms. “Where are we?” she asked groggily.
“Home,” he replied.
The guest rooms were located on the third floor, rarely used but meticulously cleaned and aired. Yarl followed them upstairs and opened the doors, then rushed to turn down the quilt. Gavriel laid Cathrynne on the bed.
“Rest,” he said gently, tugging her boots off and pulling the covers up.
She smiled at him, then snuggled into the pillow. “Just a quick nap,” she said.
He retreated to the doorway where Yarl waited, his face carefully composed.
