Page 4 of A Song of Air
“Ladies, we could use some help over here!” Ev called out from beside the wagon. The rattling of the chains followed his words, reminding them that there were more important things to be done. Like saving captives from the chains of the emperor’s tyranny.
Her lips twitched at the poetic turn of her thoughts.
“Ev is so hopeless without us.”
“I heard that, Malika Wylde!”
“You were supposed to!” Malika called back. “You got this, Bryce?”
“Of course.” Bryson flashed a toothy smile in her friend’s general direction, though it disappeared the moment she walked away to help the others.
Do not weep for the wicked,a voice in her mind whispered. There was the screech of a hawk overhead, the stirring of the wind, and a moment later she felt the flap of wings just as claws descended and touched her shoulders.It is unbecoming.
Is it?she asked back in her mind.
Her familiar chirped on her shoulder and ruffled her wings.A predator does not mourn its prey.
Bryson sighed and reached up to run her fingers against her familiar’s sleek brown and black plumage. “You’re right,” she said aloud. “They’re monsters.”
Even monsters have feelings.
If that was true, then a part of Bryson hoped that they’d died afraid. Like so many Fae had lived and died with fear consuming their souls. She wanted to berate herself for those thoughts, but couldn’t. Would her mother be ashamed of her for thinking that? After all, she’d gone to fight for peace. She had preached the concept to Bryson and her sister for years before the war tore her away.
Even her father, Mana bless his soul, had tried to instill the concept into her as they’d trekked through the broken trail of Tir na Faie towards the human lands.
That had ended well, hadn’t it?
The bitter sarcasm of her own thoughts threatened to rock her back on her heels. It was startling, the rare occasion her mind took that turn, that she jolted when a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders. It pulled her out of her past, and she relaxed a fraction as the familiar scent of cedar and lemongrass filled her nostrils.
“You did good, Bryce.” Ev’s lips pressed against the corner of her mouth. His arms brought stability, grounding her back into the moment. “And we got a good number. I think tonight warrants celebration!”
Her familiar shifted on her shoulder, crooning in Bryson’s mind.Killing others is such a strange human mating ritual.
With a huff, Bryson shooed the hawk from her shoulder. She didn’t want to hear her sardonic input, particularly when the others couldn’t hear it to join in on the laugh. With a disgruntled shriek, her familiar took off to the skies.
“Do you really think Arlo will go for that?” Bryson asked, turning her face toward Ev’s. She felt his smile press against her lips. Saw him with a brief flash of clarity before he pulled away and became blurry once again. It was a rhetorical question, of course. She knew what the answer would be.
“Of course. We did a good thing here today and everyone needs to decompress.”
Footsteps gave away Malika’s arrival once again. “He’s right, Bryce. I could go for a relaxing night.”
“Yeah, live a little, Bryce.”
She sighed and smiled, though her mouth felt tight on the corners. Already, a headache was forming at her temples. The light of the sun was too bright and was beginning to hurt her eyes. “Fine,” she agreed. “Let’s celebrate.”
She’d drink to the dead humans, at least.
“Let’s go!” Ev tugged her into his arms, possessively guiding her away.
And then she’d spend the rest of the night wishing things were different than what they were and mulling over her familiar’s words until sleep claimed her.
A predator does not mourn its prey.
The only problem was, Bryson didn’t know where she fit on the scale that her familiar had so carefully balanced them upon.
Was Bryson a predator, waiting for the right moment to attack?
Or was she prey, hiding in the shadows, hoping not to be found?
