Page 65 of Lana Pecherczyk

“I’ll be fine,” Manfri said. “I’ll stay with Nikan.”

“If you dare think to bring back reinforcements,” she snarled at Cielo. “I will sense you coming a mile away. Now that I am awake, I feel the wind move before the sky thinks to breathe. The first wingbeat other than your own will signal their doom.”

Cielo nodded. “It’s a bargain, then. When I bring you the forbidden treasure I stole from the human leader, you will immediately release Nikan and Manfri alive and unharmed.”

“When I hold the treasure in my hands,” she corrected, eyes narrowing at the attempted fae loophole.

“Yes,” Cielo agreed. A magical snap reverberated as the Well bound their agreement in magic. Cielo shuffled closer to Nikan and started to undress, keeping one eye on the Collector.

“Take my clothes,” he murmured. “I’ll shift to heal and fly. I’ll find another outfit before I return.”

Once naked, the air shimmered around his form, and the young fae became a crow. With a caw of ominous warning, he flapped his wings and flew away.

Chapter

Twenty-One

The “shortcut” stretched into an hour-long trek through humid heat. Blake’s borrowed clothes clung uncomfortably, and dirt grated against the damp fabric. Her arms ached from cradling the eucalyptus, but when River offered to hold it, she refused. The familiar scent anchored her and masked her unfortunate, sweaty situation.

They emerged from the jungle onto a ridge overlooking a vast natural amphitheater pit. Late afternoon sun slanted through towering trees, casting long shadows over moss-covered ruins. At first glance, the structures reminded her of Mayan or Aztec pyramids, but then recognition hit. These were old skyscrapers, hollowed out and fallen into a pattern, somehow working with the land instead of against it.

The murder’s settlement, or roost as River called it, sprawled across fallen ruins and wound through ancient streets. It climbed toward the sky on living terraces. Caravans claimed each platform, creating a patchwork of color that would have sent her Hidden Gems followers wild. Some vans flaunted elaborate tapestries adorned with sparkling jewels, while others incorporated cleverly upcycled ruins as windbreaks. At first, it seemed chaotic. But the closer she looked, the more she realizedthere was some kind of organization to it. A pattern she couldn’t place.

Her fingers itched to document every transformation. It proved beauty could grow from destruction. It could shine. This was the living embodiment of what she’d preached about in her videos.

Her vision blurred as her throat tightened. “She’s got the razz, alright.”

“What?” River frowned at her.

“Nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing.”

Blake took a moment to process the enormity of her feelings, the strange rightness settling into her bones at being here—with him. River was hard to ignore. Especially when he was patient and waited for her words, which she sensed was unusual for him. Or maybe it was just this hidden, compassionate side of him that Blake was starting to see through his cracks.

“This is what I always tried to show people.” She gestured at his home. “In my time, I mean. I showed them in my time.” He still watched her, waiting. So she found the courage to explain. “Everything has a second life if you just look at it in the right way. I never had access to materials this gorgeous.”

She braced, half wincing, and waited for a derogatory comment. Something like, “You can’t upcycle the world, dumbass.”

But River swept his hand over the landscape. “Well then, it’s my honor to welcome you to the Elphyne Southeast Murder. You’re among the lucky few outsiders ever to see it.”

Movement in the trees up high caught her attention. Guards or sentinels watched them in angel form, their wings in the shadows behind them. They perched on thick boughs with perfectly balanced feet. Some had bows and arrows, others daggers.

One by one, crow shifters started taking to the sky and flying around the murder in a formation.

“What are they doing?” she asked.

“Circling. Looking for changes, marking who’s here and who’s not. Remembering faces.”

Her stomach clenched. “Is it okay that I’m here?”

He followed her gaze to where a group of nearby sentinels glared down at them. He flipped up both middle fingers and kissed the air in their direction.

“Don’t worry about them. You’re my mate,” he said, as if that explained everything. Then, he grumbled out, “And apparently Ash’s, too.”

“Oh”—she blew a raspberry at him—“you know that’s not what I meant. I was being petty because you ignored my feelings.”

Genuine confusion crossed his face, and then he lifted his blue-marked hand. “It’s literally impossible for me to do that with this.”