Page 132 of Vicious Is My Throne

“We have access to food and water, for the time being.” Raz had gone into commander mode, something I appreciated.

“Anaria’s set wards around this part of the castle, and so far, they are holding.” He fixed that steady stare on me. “If your magic fails like before, you won’t get lucky a second time. You’ll crash down into a blight-infested area and we won’t be able to save you.”

I swiped the sweat off my top lip. “So that’s your plan? Staying here, with the weapon, where we’re sitting ducks for the Oracle, or worse, her brother to find?”

“I didn’t say I liked the plan. I said this was our best option. Don’t be an arse, Zor. You’re in no fucking shape to travel anywhere and you know it.”

My gaze landed back on Anaria and Tristan, murmuring softly. I only caught a few words. Impossible. Not in my lifetime. You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

“I wasn’t lying. Except for this itching, I feel better than I have since Zephryn torched me. Could use some water, though.” I licked my chapped lips. “And why is it so fucking hot in here?”

Anaria turned toward me, enough for me to see her freckles standing out in stark relief against her pale face, the fear shining in her eyes. “Tristan is going to fly to the Wynter Palace and make sure it’s still secure. Raz will head to Whitehall to find food and water. Enough for two days.” She held up her hand when I went to protest.

“That is an order. You will rest. You said you’re tired. You sleep, and I’ll bring you food as soon as Raziel returns. In the meantime, we’ll give you some space.” She moved toward the door. “Get some sleep. I’ll be back the minute we have fresh water and something to eat.”

I heard them whispering when they retreated down the hall.

Not the words, but their rushed, panicked tone.

Something was fucking wrong.

I tried laying on my back, but that was a fucking no go, so I flopped onto my stomach, folded my arms beneath my head, crushed a pillow beneath my chin, and replayed everything that had happened in the past few days.

Okay, so the magic had torn my freshly healed back apart, but I’d gotten worse wounds during training exercises. Gods, even Raziel had cut me up worse than yesterday’s clusterfuck.

But this wasn’t steel, this was magic.

I shut that annoying little voice down.

Reached up over my shoulder and prodded one of the bumps. Not an infection, though the area was warm to the touch. Whatever lay beneath the skin was hard, like a broken bone that had healed wrong, or…I prodded the thing again. A bunch of smaller bones, shifting like dry tinder beneath my fingers.

They felt odd, sharp almost, like no other bones in my body.

I matched Anaria’s hard, desperate swallow, the warm darkness closing around me, sweat pooling in the small of my back. My magic seeped out of me and soaked into the moist air, hot and humid enough for me to pretend this was a late summer day and it was too hot to move.

That all I wanted to do was rest.

My eyes slid closed and sleep wrapped its weighty fingers around my thoughts and plucked them away, leaving a blank space in my mind to be filled with dreams.

And then I was flying again, Anaria by my side.

56

TAVION

Ifound Anaria and Tristan in the library and cut right to the chase. “What have you two been whispering about for the past ten minutes, and don’t tell me nothing.”

Anaria glanced between us, her face tight. “Tell Tavion what you told me, Tristan.”

“Wyverns aren’t born with wings. We’re born looking like any other Fae infant.” Tristan stared out the window, dressed in a loose shirt of the duke’s, doeskin breeches, and bare feet since he had to get airborne again soon.

“Like wolves, we can’t shift for our first few years.”

I nodded, wondering where he was going with this. “Wolves go through our first shift at about five or six. It’s easier when we’re younger, when our bones and muscles are more supple.”

“Same for wyverns, but gods help our parents when we hit four or five. I know mine couldn’t keep us on the ground, no matter how loudly they shouted.”

Anaria’s lips quirked at that visual, and I thanked the gods for him putting that smile on her face. But on the other side of the room, Raziel paced between the closed-off fireplace and the door, frustration seeping from him. “Get to the point, DeVayne. If you know something, spit it out.”

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