Page 6 of The War of Wings
Petra
“So…” I said quietly, my eyes falling on the expanse of water before us. “I died.”
“‘Fraid so,” Larka answered easily.
Of course I was dead. I’d been defeated, then fell into the Darkness Beyond. Looking around here, though, you’d have no idea of the carnage that had just unfolded mere minutes ago. The only reminder of what had happened was the blood and dirt and soot that clung to my armor where I’d discarded it in a heap on the grass.
Elin had excused herself to the cabin when Larka and I settled on a bench in the garden, surrounded by the most beautiful array of flowers I’d ever seen. Trellises were wrapped in vivid green vines dotted with tiny purple blooms. Daisies, some bright orange and others brilliant yellow, swayed in the breeze beside a plant boasting some kind of massive buds waiting to burst open.
“I planted all different colors to make it look like the harbor on the day of Cindregala,” she said wistfully, a fondness in her voice. “Do you remember?”
“Of course,” I whispered, my throat tight.
“The day may not have ended in the prettiest way, but it was still the best day of my life. We had so much fun.” Her sigh was content, like she wouldn’t change a single thing about that day.
Even though I could see Larka beside me now, healthy and beautiful and twice as vibrant as she’d ever been in life, the memory of that day still ripped through me. I could still smell the smoke, feel the dread, see the whole thing in screaming detail. My lungs protested the deep, steadying breath I forced into them.
“I’m sorry, Larka,” I started, the guilt far too overwhelming to ignore. “I should’ve–”
“Shut the fuck up,” Larka scoffed, butting her shoulder into mine as she cut me off. Always so eloquent, Larka. “I don’t want an apology. Obviously, it didn’t turn out too badly for me here.” She gestured toward the beauty that surrounded us, the sparkling waters of the sea. The colors were brighter here, the air sweeter and easier to breathe now that the smoke had dissipated from my brain.
I straightened suddenly. “What if…” I trailed off, trying to find the words. “I had people back there, back…in life.” I hiked a thumb over my shoulder, as iflifewere just around the corner and not around…what, the realm? “How will I know if they’re here?”
“Well,” Larka started, one side of her mouth pulling up in thought. “There was a rather large group of people that arrived about a year ago. Elin told me that was because of the battle. That’s when she arrived. I was just so damn happy you weren’t a part of that group. It’s great here, as you can see, but life is…life. It’s better to have a long one.” Larka paused, her head cocking to one side as she considered her next words. “If you’re looking for someone, they would’ve come through the Gates. But you… You sort of just…appeared.”
“Appeared?”
Larka shrugged. “I think you may have fallen from the sky,” she said, as if it were a completely normal sentence. “You weren’t here one moment, and the next, you were.”
My head dropped back against the bench as I swallowed hard. This was all so overwhelming. It was just…done. My life was done. Malosym had won. Evil had overcome good. What did that mean?
I could feel Larka’s eyes on my face. “Want to tell me everything?” she asked nonchalantly.
I wasn’t sure she understood the magnitude of what she was asking for. “How long do you have?”
Larka’s mouth twisted as she looked to the sky in thought. “I think I have forever.”
The breath I let out was heavy, and I opened my mouth only to snap it shut again. Where was I supposed to start?
I did my best, trying not to leave anything out. Things I’d thought had been tiny, insignificant details at the time turned out to be fundamental elements of Malosym’s plan. I backtracked so many times, it was a wonder Larka could keep up with the story.
It seemed like every single person I’d ever known had a hidden identity. Castemont was Malosym. Calomyr was Belin Cal Myrin, the Invisible King. Miles was actually Cal’s brother, Tobyas, and Tobyas was thought to have died when he was twelve. Ludovicus was… Well, he was Ludovicus, but he’d been under the spell of blood magic, controlled by Malosym and bent to his twisted will. Even my parents weren’t really my parents, because myrealparents were the fucking Keepers of the Saints.
Recounting much of it was like picking at a wound that had yet to heal. The words burned on the way out, hindsight glaring at me, screaming at me that I should’ve known, should’ve seen the signs that something wasn’t right. It was all so…
“Fucked up,” Larka murmured. “That’s a lot of shit to go through, Petra.”
A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I crossed one ankle over the other, digging my heel into the silvery gravel. “Yeah.”
“Anything else?” she jeered.
“I’m sure I’m forgetting something.”
“And you’re not only a queen, but a…legend come to life?”
I dropped my head back. “I was until the Bloodsinger in Blindbarrow sacrificed my powers and I lost them.”
“Now you’rejusta queen,” she teased. “A regular old queen. They’ll probably give you some outrageously gaudy funeral. Remember how ridiculous King Umfray’s was? The parades? They went on for weeks.” I huffed a laugh at the memory of the flowers in the street, trampled by the horses following behind the late king’s carriage. Larka blew a breath through her lips before she went quiet for a moment. “How’s Ma?”
