Page 25

EIGHTEEN

C ompared to Cristo’s clinical, pristine compound, the conservation center’s noise made Kel’s skin prickle.

Other visitors skipped about and inhuman sounds filled the air.

Jeweled colors shone from every direction and too many sweet smells clouded her nostrils.

Kel felt as if she was walking through fireworks.

Despite the heat, she pulled her navy beanie over her ears, dampening the noise.

At her side, Coup had thrown on a dark peacoat she hadn’t seen before.

It fit his tall build too well. She hated that she noticed.

Unbuttoned with the collar unfolded, it made Coup—with his windswept curls—look like a rogue pirate.

“Have you ever been to a conservation center?” Coup asked, as they passed through the park’s brick entrance. “Or does this much color hurt your surly rep?”

Peeling statues of Salta’s animals guarded the entrance, beckoning people inside far too menacingly. “No to both,” she replied. “Have you?”

Kel handed over their passes to a glassy-eyed ticket collector. The man’s expression sharpened, and Kel felt his lingering stare as they passed.

Coup shrugged. “Public aviaries are probably the closest I’ve been.”

“My mom’s mentioned an Asciran conservation center in a postcard. She made it sound like something out of an Alchemist fable, seeing all of Salta’s magic in one place.”

So far, the center—just west of Vohre—had yet to convince Kel of any fable-like qualities. She could only see winding stone paths and nature strips; no animals or cameras, other than the security lenses above the entrance.

Coup tilted his head back and froze. Kel frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Coup chuckled, a strange, breathy sound. He pointed up.

Kel followed his gaze. Her jaw went slack.

She’d been so preoccupied dreading the time at Coup’s side, worrying about how Savita would fare without her, she hadn’t even considered the creatures she might see.

Overhead, a glass tube stretched from the park’s entrance to the trees ahead. She could faintly make out tiny lights dancing inside.

Sprites.

The small creatures—no bigger than her thumbpad—reflected the morning sun, stuck between the glass panels like a jeweled flurry in a snow globe.

Blue, red, green, yellow—too many colors to count.

She couldn’t make out their little shapes; a spindly limb here and a pointed wing there, but nothing clear.

Staring at them for too long stung her eyes.

Though sprites were usually fickle creatures, their magic was rumored to affect weather and moods. Kel’s passion had always lain with phoenixes, but seeing their iridescent lights flicker and swirl like trapped galaxies made her understand why Ascira was the most popular tourist isle.

Looking ahead, Kel realized the sprites’ enclosure ran above the entire park, curving down in glass columns that visitors could press against.

“I wonder how they breathe inside the glass,” Coup mused as they began walking. “It’d be difficult to make holes small enough that they couldn’t escape through.”

Before she could reply, a camera flashed to their right. A few steps away, a young girl stood in front of an older man. Grinning, the girl held up a large tele-comm, one of the few capable of taking photographs.

“Sorry,” the man said feebly. “My daughter’s a huge fan.”

Coup laughed and waved at the child. As the man led her away, Coup turned to Kel. All warmth drained from his face. “We’re meant to convince people we’re on a date , Varra. Would it kill you to look happy?”

Kel ran a hand through her hair. Embarrassment and frustration warred, tightening her throat. “We’re convincing the cameras we’re on a date.”

Coup thrust a thumb backward. “She had one. You don’t think her pictures will get around Cendor?”

“She’s a kid . Not a reporter.”

Coup shrugged. “Cameras are cameras. Don’t trust any of them.”

Kel sucked on her lower teeth, biting back a response. They’d barely spent five minutes in the park. She refused to let him under her skin so soon.

Even worse, he was right. She needed to get over any stage fright, even when brought on by children. But until they’d joined forces with the Coupers, the Howlers hadn’t had to navigate this kind of attention.

They meandered further into the park, down a cobblestone path bordered by trees and shimmering glass columns. Certain colors swarmed together, shades of green clustering together in buzzing clouds.

She shoved her hands inside the pockets of her coat, unsure how close was too close or not close enough to stand beside Coup. It felt strange, walking beside him in the real world, beyond Cristo’s confines.

They wandered deeper into the park, passing a slanted souvenir booth.

Stuffed toys, wooden trinkets and framed sketches hung behind the wooden counter.

The trinkets and paintings made Kel’s stomach flip.

She couldn’t count how many nights she’d spent curled up in her aviary’s office, the sketch pad and leather carving kit from her father keeping her company when Dira couldn’t.

Kel had once dreamed of owning a phoenix sanctuary self-sufficient enough that she could moonlight as a tattoo artist, drawing and needling her designs onto living canvases.

Tattooists were popular across Cendor; living with phoenixes meant that plenty of Cendorians bore burns and scars, and the marks were often flaunted, decorated with tattoos and flourishes.

Did working with Cristo—earning his money—make that dream more or less likely?

Kel felt more stares at their backs, more camera flashes.

Her tongue felt too big for her mouth. She imagined slipping and stuttering around the wrong words when the reporters cornered them.

What if they asked her again about her father?

Or Oska? Her knees wobbled, and a sharp pang of guilt tinged with homesickness swept through her.

“Stop looking for reporters,” Coup hissed. “My brother knows what he’s doing. They’ll be here, if they’re not already. They’re just waiting for something worth photographing.”

Kel fought the urge to hunch forward, to shrink beneath her layers. “Right.”

“We’re meant to look like we’re on a date. Not like we’re in pain.” Coup cursed under his breath. “I know smiling for the cameras is beneath a mighty Varra, but—”

“It’s not that.” Kel shook her head. “I just… I don’t know how to do it. Not like you. I see a camera and I just…” Kel shuddered. “I start overthinking every breath, every gesture. It feels like they’re poking at me with needles.”

“Oh.” Coup’s eyes searched her, something unnameable in his expression. “Well, you’re the expert in the aviary, tamer. Out here, let me show you how it’s done.”

Kel swallowed a lump as the ground turned from cobblestone to sand. There was a question in his gaze as he awaited her answer. Eventually, she sighed. “Okay. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Coup smiled wolfishly as they navigated the soft, corn-yellow sand. A few more wanderers turned their way, more cameras flashing.

He held out a crooked arm. Reluctantly, Kel looped her hand through and allowed him to guide their path. His hip bumped against hers, too warm. Too close.

Kel squeezed Coup’s jacket sleeve. In response, several cameras clicked. Her head instinctively whipped around, fast enough that she felt a crick form in her neck.

Coup laughed, a loud, startingly warm sound. He tugged her down a narrow lane. “Let’s find a better distraction.”

The sandy lane opened up into a clearing, and the air grew muggier, reminding Kel of an aviary’s heated lamps. As they walked, the ground turned to glass, and beneath it Kel could see a maze of dirt tunnels.

“ Alchemists ,” Kel breathed, as the most dazzling creature slithered about. The serpent was covered in emerald-and-cinnamon scales that crisscrossed like diamonds, with two little jade horns sitting above its narrow eyes.

Dresvan serpents. Here—in Cendor. Sprites were sunny, harmless little insects, but serpents?

Dira had told Kel that they were poisonous, intelligent creatures that usually kept to dense forestry.

Their venom held magical properties. It was so strange to see one gliding through a glass cage in Vohre.

Though the serpents’ crystalline skin was almost hypnotizing, as they shifted off the glass, Kel’s attention once more stuck to her hand around Coup’s solid arm. She didn’t know why she couldn’t relax her hand. Why couldn’t she focus on anything but the feel of him pressed against her side?

Kel spotted a violently red overhead sign, signaling a nearby aviary, just as two figures carrying bulky equipment ambled toward them. The pair—a man clutching a voice-comm and a woman holding a large camera—waved at Kel.

“What a surprise, seeing a pair of rising celebrities here!” the man sang.

He gestured to the red-haired woman hovering a step behind him. “We were just filming coverage of the sanctuary. Any chance we could steal you two for a quick interview?”

A prickling heat spread across Kel’s neck. Feebly, she said, “How can I say no?”

Coup coughed, poorly concealing a chuckle. He grinned at the suited reporter and camerawoman. “Of course! But it can’t take long—we’re excited to look around.”

Coup shifted to trail his fingers along Kel’s arm, down her wrist, before gently lacing their fingers together. He moved slowly, giving Kel plenty of time to shift away. After a moment, he gave her hand a soft squeeze. Her stomach flipped, though she didn’t pull away.

A necessity for the cameras , she told herself.

The reporter’s gaze flickered down. The camerawoman shifted back a step, likely to include a shot of their entwined hands.

“Your last race in Fieror was an incredible watch, but Vohre’s tracks are known to be a little more daunting,” he goaded. “How are you feeling leading up to your first race in our city, Coup?”

Coup’s chin lifted. “I’m hoping Vohre’s tracks live up to their reputation.”