names ended. I gasped at the strange letters flowing across the page in even more florid designs than even the iktar. I held it up to Anali. “Do you know this language?”
“I’ve seen it before, but no.” Anali traced one of the letters and I suddenly knew where I’d seen something like it. In the passages beneath my bedchamber in the Queen’s Palace. The words inscribed in those halls were written in whatever this was. Baccha might know it.
I turned a few pages and the words switched back to Khimaeran, but a strange dialect I could barely follow. I would need paper and a quill to work this out.
More to do.
I sat back in bed, holding the heavy tome up close to my face, trying to parse some meaning. Eventually I fell asleep and for once my dreams weren’t blood drenched. Instead they were filled with the flapping of wings and a sweet autumn wind carrying me far from here.
Chapter 12
Eva
“. . . I do not see how that will be a problem, Osir.” Lirra’s voice wafted through the open doorway.
I drew up short and grabbed Anali’s arm before she could step into the room.
It was a few hours past dawn and I was late to the meeting with my cousins. Even though I woke to predawn light filtering through the thin linen shades in the sick room, I’d fallen into studying the book. Anali had brought sheets of parchment, a pen, and a little pot of blue ink sometime in the night.
I spent the morning translating the first few sentences of the family history before suddenly remembering the meeting. I found someone had laid out clothing at the foot of my bed. Perhaps it was Tavan, since I didn’t recognize the knee-length saffron tunic embroidered with sapphire swallows and matching, slim-cut pants.
The tunic took some time to get on. It closed in front with a row of tiny pearl buttons, but was fashioned with slits for the wings. I nearly left my room to ask for help a dozen times while trying to ease my wings into the shirt. I imagined how Mirabel would cackle if she saw me, panting and sweating as I feebly twitched my wings.
I tried not to think on the strangeness of having wings. Tried and failed miserably.
But I was glad I hadn’t gone for help once I finally got it on. Now that I was used to living without a body servant, I did not want to ask one of the guards, or Mother forbid, my sister, for help now.
A pair of soft-soled and very supple calfskin boots were also by the door. When I slipped them on, they molded to my feet like a second skin.
Anali came to get me only after Tavan sent word. By then I was slurping down a cup of tea gone cold hours ago and wrapping up a few crescent-shaped buns in a cloth napkin to take with me.
Now standing before the door, I held a finger to my lips and waited to see what else they would say.
“Will you really leave this place?” Osir’s rich voice rang out clear as a bell.
“We’re duty bound now that they’ve come here,” Lirra said softly.
Anali grabbed my hand and hauled us both into the room, muttering about the impropriety of eavesdropping.
Osir and Lirra sat on one side of a long oak table that looked like it had once been roughhewn, but softened by years of use. In the center, there was a rendering of the Nbaltir iktar inset with moonstone.
Tavan sat at the other end of the table, warming her hands on a steaming mug of tea. Her owl-like face was capped with a crest of dark brown feathers and her clothing fashioned to accommodate her wings. She gave a bright smile as she rose from her seat and offered a deep bow.
“Tavan, please do not do that! I should be bowing to you for saving me. And thank you for these by the way,” I said, tugging at the sleeves of the tunic.
“Thank Osir,” Tavan said. “He has some skill with a needle.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize,” I said, face heating. “My apologies for my lateness, Lady Lirra. And many thanks to you, Osir. They are lovely.”
“No thanks are necessary,” he boomed, holding up his hands. I tried not to laugh at the thought of his plate-size hands holding a needle or working a loom. “I can make adjustments to the rest of your things if you decide to keep