Page 135 of Vicious Is My Throne

A soft snore was his only response, but at least I knew where he was.

“Zorander Vayle. It’s time for you to wake up and eat and drink something. Then you can go back to sleep until dinnertime. I might just join you,” I murmured, thinking that was the best idea I’d had in a long time. “Come on, Zor, open your eyes.”

My reaching hand found something I did not recognize. Something hard, flexible, and covered in soft skin. Velvety, almost, like the inside of a dog’s ear. Warm, too, and I ran my thumb along the length until realization clicked in my head and I snatched my hand back.

That was Zor’s back.

No, that was the thing growing out of Zor’s back.

I set down the water and crossed to the window, opening the thick drapes so a single shaft of light fell over Zorander’s torso like an executioner’s cleaver.

Above his shoulder blades sprouted two long, slender blades of bone covered in black, patterned skin. They were two feet long, angled to rise above his head, yet hinged in the center to fold over and lie flat against his back.

Delicate like bird wings.

And the skin covering them had a nuanced iridescence, shimming with rainbows of color in the ever-changing light. I leaned closer, peering at every small detail. Smaller protrusions lined the bottom edge of the blade, evenly spaced, larger by the hinge and smaller as they approached the tip. I dragged my finger across the bumps, feeling the sharp poke of spines.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was one thing to listen to Bexley and Tristan spout their theories. Quite another to see—with my own godsdamned eyes—these abominations growing out of Zor’s back. Maybe Raz could use his healing magic to slice them off, like a mole or an extra finger or toe.

Think, Anaria, think. There has to be a solution to this. Something Raz or Bexley can do to stop this from happening.

But right in front of my eyes, the velvety bones lengthened, those smaller protrusions growing larger, unfurling into…feathers?

Black feathers with a magnificent iridescence, like they’d been kissed by a rainbow, darkness and color wrapped into one. And Zor’s magic writhed in the room, so furiously I could feel its panic, the air tight and suffocating, still dripping with humidity.

Everything changed within the span of that single sunbeam.

Zor’s twisting shadow magic, seeping from the feathers unfurling with gleaming, brilliant darkness, the wings elongating until they dripped down to the small of his back. Beyond.

I don’t know how long I sat there.

Hours, maybe.

Watching in horrified fascination until Zor’s wings were fully formed.

Almost as tall as Zor, they draped over him like a downy blanket, the air in the room finally cool and dry, his magic dormant by the time I pushed my aching body out of the chair and slipped through the door to tell the others.

When Tristan returned, after reporting the palace was miraculously untouched, I told the story again, corroborated by Raz, who’d already checked on him twice, and Tavion, who was convinced this was some sign our fortunes were turning.

All I was sure about was how hard it would be for Zor to move with those things attached to his shoulders, much less ghost himself all the way across Caladrius to the palace. And when Tristan’s worried gaze met mine, I knew he was wondering the same.

It was one thing to get a boost to your powers. It was completely another to have two wings attached to your body that were nearly as tall as you were.

“How heavy do you think they are?” I asked Tristan softly, choosing a golden pear from the food piled on the table between us. Tavion—more likely his pushy wolf—had growled at me to eat and drink and regain my strength, and there was nothing else to do anyway except wait for Zorander to wake up.

“If his wings truly have feathers, then not much. Bird’s bones are hollow. Strong but light, and feathers are aerodynamic, but they aren’t heavy. Not like mine, which are leathery, and my bones are denser. Not as dense as Zephryn’s, though.”

“How long will it take him to learn to use them?” I tried to picture what that would even look like. I’d never seen a Fae with wings. A rare few had tails, and others were shifters, choosing to remain in their Fae form whenever they were around other Fae.

His expression shuttered before he answered. “I’m more worried about how long it will take him to learn to walk. His balance will be off. He’s a trained warrior, his body is a weapon, and now everything will be vastly different. Flying is a long way off, by my guess.”

“Your guess is probably on the money.” I swallowed around the hard lump in my throat. “What about getting him to the palace? Can he move himself there using his magic?”

“That’s a question for Raz or Bex.” Tristan shook his head. “But my fire magic is connected to my shifting magic. Like a common thread runs between them, one I can pull whenever I need it. How hard I pull decides whether you get the beast or the flame.”

I wondered about the hair-thin thread inside of me that now led to the deep underground ocean swelling at my center. About how I’d trapped the Oracle with a single tug of that thread.

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