wrong thing.
He glanced across the moonlit field at Sparrow, who was perched on one of the massive boulders that surrounded the grassy plain, gazing up as if she could see the stars.
Sometimes he wished he experienced the world as simply as she did. It wasn’t that Sparrow herself was simple, but rather, she lived and spoke and acted in the most uncomplicated of ways. She understood things about anger and grief and forgiveness that Elliot had not—at least, not until she’d helped him see it—but she didn’t let the dark complexities of the world overwhelm or shake her convictions.
She moved through her life with surety, and Elliot envied her. He didn’t think he’d ever lived like that.
Maybe her past had helped shape her into someone who couldn’t afford doubt, while Elliot’s past had made him question everything and everyone around him; it had turned his friends into enemies, his enemies into allies, and muddied the one place he should have belonged: among the Riders.
At last Jaxon swooped down to land in front of Elliot, nudging his head against Elliot’s chest in a bolster of support: They belonged here. Jax was sure of it, and no matter what, Elliot would always have Jax, which meant he’d always be a Rider.
“Thanks, buddy,” Elliot muttered, smoothing his hand over Jax’s feathers, hot from excitement and exertion after his flight. Though it wasn’t the same as flying with his fellow phoenixes or with Elliot in the saddle, it was clear getting out into the open expanse of the sky was crucial for Jaxon’s happiness, and there was always a difference in him once he’d gotten his exercise. “Ready to go back in?”
Jax crooned, and the sound drew Sparrow. “Not tired already?” she asked the phoenix, and to Elliot’s surprise, Jax turned his head and butted her in the chest too. A stab of emotion twisted Elliot’s stomach at the sight. He thought it was jealousy at first, but that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t a bad feeling exactly, but an intense one.
Sparrow laughed in delight, stumbling slightly from Jax’s enthusiasm.
“Easy,” Elliot chastised, his stomach still tight, though he was laughing. “You’ll bowl her over.”
Jax released a huff of air, causing Sparrow’s hair to fly up in her face, before turning away. He flapped his wings and took to the sky, heading for the Eyrie.
The silence felt slightly awkward in his wake, and Elliot searched for something to say. He turned to make his way back into the village. “Are you returning as well?” he asked, gesturing to the gate, but of course she couldn’t see that. “Back inside, I mean.”
She pursed her lips, and he remembered what she’d said about not liking it inside. She shrugged. “Walk with you,” she said, more statement than question.
It was easier to be moving together than standing still. Elliot dug his hands into his pockets and breathed deep the warm, sweet summer air, while Sparrow twirled her spear in front of them.
They were just rounding a corner in the village when Sparrow’s hand shot out and pressed against his chest, barring Elliot’s movement. Sparrow cocked her head, listening to something; then her hand clenched, taking up a fistful of Elliot’s tunic and pulling. She forcibly dragged him into one of the alleys that wound behind the houses and workshops that faced the street.
“Sparrow, what––” he began, but she only tugged him harder and with surprising strength, down into a squat behind Lars’s shop. She pressed a hand to his mouth—or tried to, her palm landing on his nose instead, and he batted it away from his face. The gesture worked, though: Elliot stopped talking and listened.
It was hot back there, the forge still billowing heat despite the late hour, and the scent of metal and stale smoke clung to the air.
Elliot sensed Jaxon in the air over the Eyrie, wondering what was happening, but Elliot told his bondmate to stay put. Everything was fine. He hoped.
Now that they were still, Elliot could hear voices coming from the metalsmith’s shop. It was a low rumble, difficult to distinguish.
He glanced at Sparrow, her face intent as she listened. The other animals that had been trailing her had scattered except for a raven that had been riding on her shoulder. It had flown into the air at Sparrow’s sudden movements and alighted on a nearby barrel instead.
Did Sparrow think they’d be in trouble walking the village at night? There was no curfew, not for the servants or the Riders—or whatever Elliot