Page 22

22

Roark

“No. Go again.”

Dagny’s chest heaves with her frantic breath as she wipes her brow with the back of her forearm, her gaze unfocused and knees wobbling from the sheer effort she’s put into today’s session. Her lips pinch in a frown as she pushes her arms out, her palms flat and raised in the direction of Mor’s snarling form as Malice watches on, a tinge of pride shining from his cruel red eye.

Several sun flips have passed, and while Dagny has made excellent progress in the minimal time we’ve been training, she’s clearly hit a plateau. She’s had zero problems harnessing her magic to create large blasts of energy, but forcing it to bend to her will has proven more difficult than any of us imagined.

Just as the thought passes, a burst of energy explodes from her palms, screaming through the air and carving a deep crater into the wall, sending shimmering ice crashing to the floor. Dagny’s shoulders slump as a frustrated groan echoes in her chest, followed by a wave of emotion that travels through the bond and straight to the center of my heart.

“It’s okay, Dagny,” I say, stepping forward with every intention to hold her, comfort her. “You’ll figure it out. It’s just going to take a little more ti?—”

“ Do not touch her, ” Malice snarls, the force in his tone causing me to freeze mid-step. “Look.”

I pull my gaze from Dagny’s shuddering form, my attention drawn to the sucking kleptak curled in the corner of the room. Unlike a moment ago, the creature’s head is lowered, the muscles along its abdomen rippling as it attempts to move from its current pose—but no matter how much it tries, it cannot break the spell.

Dagny’s eyes are squeezed shut, her palms shuddering as an invisible stream of magic flows from her veins into the kleptak, overpowering its nervous system and forcing it to its knees. The creature lowers its lumpy, hairless skull in submission, a rhythmic clicking sound echoing from the base of its throat as it waits for her command.

“ Rise.”

The word shudders through the air, so strong and sure that my own muscles quiver, desperate to fulfill her order despite not being the target. The kleptak shudders to a standing position, a hollow rattle echoing in its chest as it tilts its head, regarding Dagny with as much curiosity as its expressionless face can manage.

“ Rise,” she repeats.

To my utter surprise, the kleptak picks its two front feet off the ground, balancing on its hindlimbs and exposing its soft underbelly. I’m about to remark on how spectacular the feat is when Dagny stumbles back, her eyes glossy and face flushed—her control over the kleptak broken.

Before anyone can react, her body slumps to the floor, the back of her skull thunking against the ice as her body succumbs to exhaustion. We all rush forward, deaf to the creature clacking angrily in the corner as we hurry to make sure Dagny is unharmed.

I crouch by her head, my movements frantic as I cup my palm around her cheek, searching her expression for signs of distress. “Dagny? Talk to me, little one. Are you okay?”

She nods slowly, the silver ring around her iris fading to a warm chocolate brown as the flood of magic entering her veins is cut off. She lies there for a long minute, trying to catch her breath, the uneven rise and fall of her chest accompanied by a hollow, wheezing noise. “I wasn’t expecting… well, that. ”

“How did it feel?” Malice asks, his eye gleaming with intrigue. “To force the energy into another creature’s soul?”

“Strange,” Dagny murmurs, her brow knitting into a frown. “I can’t say I enjoyed it. That, and now I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.”

“Maybe we should take a snack break?” I suggest. “That always makes me feel better.”

“You think food makes everything better,” Lir grumbles, his eyes trailing to the ceiling. “But I agree. Dagny deserves a break.”

“Lucky for you lot, I came prepared.” Cyprien bounds forward, shoving a fistful of welwig tubers into her chest. “Eat up, bunny.”

Her face pinches, but she still accepts the gift, bringing the root to her mouth and biting off a chunk with a grimace. “Ugh. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the taste.”

“They’ll keep you nice and strong, though,” Cyprien says, reaching out to pat her head. “Much more nutritious than that human garbage.”

Dagny shoots him a teasing glare, her jaw working around a second bite. “If I could lift my arms, I’d smack you.”

I exchange a glance with Malice, alarmed by the words falling from her lips. “Maybe we should call it quits for the day.”

“No!” Dagny pouts. “I’m so close to controlling it for real!”

“Roark is right,” Fenryr says, chiming in for the first time since Dagny started her training session with Malice. “Dagny deserves a treat.”

“A treat?” Cyprien perks up, his yellow gaze swinging toward Fenryr inquisitively. “What are you thinking?”

“Perhaps a trip to the coast?” Lir suggests, his eyes glazing with a faraway look. “It’s been so long since we went there… and we could be there for the sun flip.”

“I like this idea,” Fenryr murmurs. “Malice?”

He blinks lazily, his expression giving away none of his inner thoughts. “It’s too dangerous. We could be spotted by Slaine’s troops or taken out by a wild creature… any number of things could go wrong.”

“Aw, come on!” Cyprien whines. “I want to show Dagny the perkins. You want to see the perkins, don’t you, bunny?”

She looks from Malice to Cyprien, worrying her lip. “Maybe…”

“This is a horrible idea,” he murmurs, his eyes squinting shut. “Kaebl is going to be so fucking pissed when he comes back from his hunt.”

Malice raises his head, and I watch as he crumbles beneath the weight of Dagny’s pleading expression. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The six of us soar through the sky, passing over the vast forest of welwigs as we shoot toward the northernmost part of the continent—where the land ends and the ocean begins. As we fly, we make sure to stay well away from Slaine’s territory, gliding above the cloud line to avoid the risk of being spotted by rogue scouts. Though the possibility is extremely low, it never hurts to take extra precautions.

Suddenly, Malice cuts hard to the left, his wings tucked in as he dives toward a small outcropping in the cliffside—so brilliantly concealed I wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t bring attention to it.

Carefully, each of us lowers onto the ledge, the flutter of wings the only sound to break the charged silence hanging in the air. Dagny settles into place at the very tip of the ledge, her feather-tipped wings spread wide and rustling with the force of the wind.

From this spot, you can truly see everything the coastline has to offer—the endless, turquoise-hued ocean, the towering glaciers, and the thin stretch of rocky shoreline at the foot of the cliffs, which is normally hidden from view. It’s a stunning sight, but nothing— nothing —compares to the splendor of her smile, nor the brush of her hand in mine, or her laughter warming the frigid air.

I’m about to comment on it when Dagny lets out a little squeal, drawing my attention to where her arm is outstretched, gesturing to the group of penkins standing on the shoreline below. More than fifty in number, the winged creatures are all positioned shoulder to shoulder, their snow-colored feathers fluttering gently in the breeze as they stare out over the horizon.

“What are they waiting for?” Dagny asks, her voice barely a whisper.

As soon as she finishes speaking, an explosion of color spreads across the sky, so sudden and violent that it steals her breath in an awe-filled sigh. The shimmering aura dances across the silver sun, causing the shades to shift and burst, staining the atmosphere in brilliant hues of merging, swirling pigment. And at that moment, Dagny is just as enamored as the feathered creatures down below.

“It’s beautiful…” Dagny’s eyes reflect the kaleidoscope of colors swirling and dancing throughout the sky, her pupils expanding as she bathes in the extraordinary sight. “ Stunning… ”

“Yes, it is,” Malice whispers, unable to take his eyes off her profile. “Beautiful things are rare in this cold, cruel land—but it makes them all the more special when you find them.”

She turns to each of us with a small smile, the sight of it sending a shock of lightning to my heart. “I’m glad we came here. This is exactly what I needed.”

“I thought you might,” Malice murmurs, finally turning his gaze toward the horizon. “Your father and Abaddon loved this place as well. They would often come here to talk and be at peace when the responsibilities of the world became too much.”

“I understand why,” she whispers, her eyes glossing over at the mention of Erik. “Do you think my mom ever saw this place?”

“I know she did,” he answers. “It’s where your parents held their bonding celebration—just them, Abaddon, and a few trusted friends. It’s also the last place Erik saw your mother alive.”

“Before he sent her away?”

He nods solemnly. “Just before Slaine attacked, Abaddon had a premonition of something terrible to pass. Just a feeling—no hard facts—but it was enough for Erik to send her back to the human realm. He loved your mother more than life itself and would do anything to protect her.”

“Did he know she was pregnant?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper. “Did he… did he know I existed?”

He nods, reaching over and placing his hand on top of hers. “He did. She broke the news to your father in this very spot, under the light of the dark sun. When she was in the human realm, Erik would come here whenever he missed her—which was often—and he would sit, just like we are now, staring out at the horizon. I think it helped him remember what he was fighting for. Who he was fighting for. At the very least, it gave him some comfort.”

Dagny sits eerily still, her shoulders shuddering with the effort to hold in her emotion. “Thank you,” she whispers after a long while. “Thank you for showing me this place. If we… If the worst happens, I’m glad I got to know at least this small part of him.”

We sit there in silence for a long while, waiting for the sun to flip. As soon as it does, Malice squeezes Dagny’s hand, raising an arm to point out the group of penkins again. Their snowy feathers rustle in the breeze as they raise their heads to the heavens. Golden beaks open wide as a symphony of low-toned notes punctuates the silence, filling the air with their heartbreaking song. It’s beautiful and melodic and unlike anything else in this world or any other—and when I look to the side, I’m unsurprised to find Dagny’s eyes welling with unshed tears. The five of us curl around her, embracing our mate as the sonnet dampens, dissipating into the vast nothing of The Far Place.

Knowing this might be the first and last time we feel a moment of peace.