Kingdom of Exiles - Maxym M. Martineau Page 0,117

their abilities and subsequent consequences.

Consequences. My fingers brushed against Winnow’s bronze key in my pocket, and I hesitated. Even if she’d been the conduit, she wasn’t responsible for what had happened. The fault was all mine. I held out the key. My last tie to Leena. A groan much warmer than the errant calls pealing through the night scraped through the air, and my Gyss appeared at my feet.

I didn’t expect to see you any time soon. She pressed her arms to her chest and studied me with guarded eyes. I’m not responsible for the payment.

Slumping to the ground, I rested my hands on my knees. I know.

She tilted her head, some of the unease escaping her frame. Then what do you want? I can’t give you another wish. Not for six months.

Reaching out my palm, I beckoned to Winnow. She was more important to me than any of my possessions because Leena had gifted her. Comfort. You’re here for comfort.

Sadness touched the corners of her eyes. She floated toward me, her wispy tail bleeding through foliage as she went, and she nestled into my hand.

Despite everything, it was because of Winnow that my curse was gone. That I was able to embrace Kost and express my devotion. That I could acknowledge my love for Leena without fear of losing her. As dangerous as Winnow’s magic was, it was the very thing that had saved me.

Winnow and Leena. Together.

For a while, we simply sat in silence and stared at the wall. Her tail was a different kind of mist, a gentle warmth rolling down the lines of my future, and my eyes grew heavy. I hadn’t slept in days. Leena made it impossible. Every minute of every day was spent devising a way to save her. To prove that none of this was intended.

I’d told her about my curse, and she’d witnessed the darkness of that firsthand. It wouldn’t be a stretch for her to believe I’d give up anything to rid myself of that.

She’d be wrong, but it wouldn’t be hard.

Rough bark from the tree scratched the back of my neck. Leena. The weight of her absence smothered my lungs. At some point, Winnow left my palm. The wetness of her touch faded, but the door to the realm never groaned. Peeling open my eyes, I watched her gliding across the forest floor, cutting through the mist and heading straight for the barrier.

The barrier.

“Winnow, stay back!”

My heart slammed into my throat. My last tie to Leena, burnt to a crisp. I could already imagine the tracks of tears that would mar her beautiful cheeks when I told her.

But Winnow wasn’t burnt—she was floating above mist-free dirt with a surprised smile on her face. Look, Noc! Twirling in place, she floated back and forth across the barrier, each time her smile growing broader. I’m a beast. Charmers would never want to hurt me.

Hope splintered through my heart. Winnow, how long can you stay outside the beast realm?

Her eyes lit up. A long time. I don’t require as much recovery as other beasts, and I have a powerful master.

Long enough to get to Hireath? To find Leena and give her a message?

That depends on where they’re keeping her. I don’t know Hireath. But I’ll try, Noc. I promise.

My pulse raced. Promise me: If it’s too risky, if they find out you’re not one of theirs, you’ll go back to the beast realm. Leena or not.

Winnow paused. After everything, you’d care for me?

Of course.

A wide smile stretched across her face. What’s the message?

Tell her I’m coming, and I won’t stop trying to reach her. I only prayed she’d believe me.

With a nod, Winnow turned her back to the barrier and sped away from the darkness of the Kitska Forest in the direction of Hireath.

All I could do now was wait.

Thirty

Leena

Sleep died with the scent of honey, and the sudden, throbbing ache in my chest had me bolting upright. Head swimming, I white-knuckled the sides of the steel cot and steadied my nerves. Dull pain simmered along my legs, and I released the bed frame to peel back the sheets. Countless faint-white scars crisscrossed skin. Lightly, I ran my fingers along the network of ridges. And then I vomited off the side of the bed. The saliva of the Poi hadn’t been enough to permanently eradicate the signs of Wynn’s torture. Not with him ripping each wound open over and over again.

I stared at the clear mixture of bile seeping across the floor.

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