Page 9

WINGS

I t had been two days, and Emryn was just now able to stay awake for more than the duration of a meal. She wasn’t entirely certain why it was taking her magic so long to recover, but the fact of the matter was that in the place where her flame should be, there was nothing but an empty hole.

It was worrisome in the extreme. Her magic showed no signs of rebuilding, which meant that either the Mother had taken it from her, or it was being siphoned away.

And she hadn’t seen the prince in those same two days.

Which was making her wonder if something was happening to him. She couldn’t get out of bed, that only resulted in her falling down again. She’d tried it this morning.

But there was an odd scent on the air, attacking the base of her skull in the place that said there was an illness nearby. Emryn’s vow was still ironclad, it was the only thing that she lived for, and if there was an illness, she was going to go and fix it.

No matter that she was down to the dregs, and that she would hurt if she did what she planned. That didn’t matter at all, nor did the fear of the pain that she was about to cause herself.

There was a method of healing that didn’t care if her magic wasn’t there. It was never used, taught only as something that should never be done, and Emryn knew if she did what she was planning, that it would be months before she recovered. If she ever did.

Because the illness that she scented was dire indeed.

But that didn’t matter either.

Emryn slid from the bed and, just as she knew would happen, she hit the floor. But that wasn’t going to stop her. She kilted up the nightdress she was wearing and made for the door, fighting her shaking weakness every step of the way.

She fought with the door, opening it with the last of the spare strength that she could muster and poking her head out into the hallway to try and find what she could only sense.

But there was no one in the hall until there was. A sharp featured, older man in robes that said he was part of the Arcanum was looking down at her with barely disguised curiosity. He had something in his hands and that was where the scent was coming from.

“What are you doing?” He asked, the words blending and blurring together until it was like trying to decipher words spoken underwater.

Emryn reached for the thing in his hands. Shaking hard enough that she overset herself and ended up flat on the floor.

“Emryn!” The prince rushed up, turning her from the floor and lifting her in his arms. “What are you doing, Asan?”

“Experimenting, Cas.” The wizard looked down at Emryn, the ice-blue eyes the only sharp thing in a world that had decided to go faint and blurry. “Take her back to bed. I believe we have an answer.”

The world blurred, fading into something flat and gray. No color, no sound, just a flat forever where there was no rest to be found.

“There you are.” That voice from earlier was somehow in her head. Sharp and distinct, no longer underwater. “Miss Emryn, come with me.”

“Where are you?” Emryn looked around, but the flat gray light stretched into eternity and was utterly featureless. “Who are you?”

“I am Wizard Asan,” the voice said. “First Wizard to Rodilla, and you are dying.”

“I can’t die,” Emryn said into the featureless gray. “I have to find them and save the Mother. I can die after that.”

“Find who?” The voice sounded puzzled.

“The Mother calls them the Three.” Emryn was so tired, but she had to keep going. “The Phoenix, the Seeker, the Flame.”

“And what does she call you, Emryn?”

“Her Wings.”

The gray cracked, shattering under some outside influence. The sound was terrible, all-consuming, like shearing stone. The scream went on and on and there was no place she could flee to.

“Stop that,” He’d called himself Asan, and he barked the words into the maelstrom of sound. It cut out immediately, the silence as deafening as the scream, and Emryn fled.

It’s impossible to flee the inside of your head.

“Emryn, come back.” Asan’s voice called to her as she crumbled into a heap. “Nothing will harm you, I promise.”

“I-”

“Rest,” Asan’s voice said, and right next to her, a soft-looking bed popped into existence. It was piled high with fluffy blankets and soft looking pillows. A perfect little nest and she was so tired. But she couldn’t move. She’d spent everything she’d managed to find in fleeing the terrible sound.

Her body moved, gentle hands on her as she was lifted and tucked carefully into the soft bed. “Just rest, when you wake I will teach you to undo what you have done.”

The gray faded to a soft black, lit gently with stars and just a bare sliver of the moon. It was almost like sleeping outside, and Emryn curled around one of the pillows, passing into sleep like one would take a breath.

She knew time had passed when she fought her way back to awareness. But it had been enough days that she wasn’t certain how many had passed her by.

The important thing was that she was awake. Emryn turned her awareness inward and sought her magic. There was still nothing, still an empty hole, but she didn’t feel as weak as she had before.

Which meant that she could get up and return to the temple.

“Oh no, there will be none of that.” She knew that voice, why did she know that voice? “You will remain in bed, Emryn, until we decide the fate of the loop and you recover.”

“What?” Emryn turned in the bed to come face to face with the sharp featured man from the hallway. “I don’t understand?”

“The Mother’s Wings?” Asan nodded to her.

Emryn wanted to hide from the penetrating gaze he had locked on her. “It’s what she said.”

“We will speak on that once we resolve the other issues.” He smiled. “I am Asan, First Wizard of Rodilla, and you, my dear, are nothing I would have expected to see in the palace.”

“I keep trying to leave, but I can’t seem to heal.” She shouldn’t be admitting that. She didn’t know this man and he was no healer for certain.

“There is a very distinct reason for that, Emryn.” Asan said slowly, almost like he was thinking. “But first you will eat and then we will meet with Cas and decide what we wish to do about it.”