a few moments as she caught her breath, and her courage.
And then she tapped quietly on a shuttered window.
Silence, then a groan, a bed creaking, the sound of flint and crackle of kindling as a torch was struck, then soft footfalls and the shutter was opening.
Bleda stood there, blinking, his hair sticking out at all angles, a blanket wrapped around his waist.
“Riv,” he said.
“Well spotted,” Riv said. Then, more hesitantly, “I wanted to talk with you.”
Bleda stepped back from the window, ushering her in.
She flew in, folding her wings tight and standing in his chamber. It was sparsely decorated, a bed, a desk and chairs, a chest.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Bleda said to her.
“I am leaving Drassil today,” she said.
“Why?” Bleda asked her.
“I am flying with Kol to Dun Seren, home of the Order of the Bright Star,” Riv told him. “Kol wishes to speak with Queen Ethlinn and Balur One-Eye, about the death of Israfil, about Kol’s succession as Lord Protector.”
“How much of the actual truth will be involved in that?” Bleda asked her.
Riv felt her face twist at that, a rush of shame and anger mixed.
“Very little, I imagine. The truth has felt like a fading, distant light to me lately,” Riv admitted. “So much is happening, is out of my control, and it is twisting me. I feel it is breaking me.”
“You mustn’t let it,” Bleda said fiercely. “You are strong, Riv, strong and good.”
Riv smiled at him, then. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
“I do,” Bleda said. “You are like the sun, burning the darkness away.”
Will I burn what I touch, too? Like the Ben-Elim.
“You are good, too,” Riv said, and she saw emotion twitch his face. They stood there long moments, locked in each other’s gaze. “I will… miss you, Bleda, while I am away,” Riv eventually said.
“I will miss you, too,” Bleda answered. The flickering torchlight painted the muscles of his naked torso in light and shadow.
Do what you can do, Aphra’s words rang in her mind. Love those worth loving.
Riv reached out and squeezed Bleda’s hand, then leaned and brushed her lips against his cheek. Bleda froze, not even blinking, but she could hear the beat of his heart, a drum in his chest. Riv leaned away and smiled at him, stroked his cheek.
“You are worth loving,” she whispered and then she leaned in again, kissed him on his lips this time.
Bleda didn’t push her away, or resist. Quite the opposite. After a shocked moment he pulled her into him harder, his hands rising to her waist.
She folded her wings about him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
DREM
Drem crested a hill and stared at the view before him. A town lay sprawled before them, little more than a league away. It was much larger than Kergard, and Kergard was the largest town Drem could remember. He could smell it from here. Absently, a hand went to the pulse in his neck.
“Dalgarth,” Stepor said from beside him. “It’s a market town, first and biggest of the Desolation. And just beyond…” Stepor pointed into the distance, where Drem saw the dark curl of a wide river, a bridge arching over it, and beyond that a hill with a fortress built upon its summit, buildings and walls cascading down from it.
Dun Seren.
“And that,” Stepor said, pointing to the east, towards a dark stain that seemed to cover the whole world east of Dun Seren, “is Forn Forest.”
It seemed as if faery tales were coming to life for Drem. He had seen beautiful, breath-taking sights in the north, the Desolation cold and harsh, but also full of beauty. But these places he was seeing now, Dun Seren and Forn Forest, were steeped in the histories, myths and legends of the Banished Lands. He had heard so many tales of these places that he felt he almost knew them already.
“Keep moving,” Balur said as he strode up behind them, “and never stop on the ridge of a hill, little Drem.”
Little Drem. I have not been called that before.
“Why not?” Drem called out as he stumbled on.
“Because your silhouette can be seen for leagues around,” Alcyon said as he strode up behind Balur, his two axes hung diagonally over his shoulders like wings of wood and steel. “Not the wisest place to stop if you’re being hunted.”
They wound their way down the hill, Stepor pausing periodically to stare at the sky, searching for the crow, Flick. They were all concerned that the crow was nowhere to be seen.
Hammer and the white bear brought