Page 67

FIFTY-FOUR

S avita blazed across the night sky, no more bird than a bonfire was. Cristo raised his head to the stars as she soared closer. His jaw fell slack and his fingers loosened around the sancter.

Kel felt Coup move from her side, but she couldn’t look away from the fierce mass of red that vaulted across the sky. Savita was almost too bright to look at.

She was here, a growing shape that tore toward them like a comet. Her firebird. Her Savita .

The phoenix released another long, earsplitting screech, and it broke Cristo from his trance. His gaze darted to Kel.

He lifted the sancter, pulled back the hammer with a sharp click , and fired.

Kel wasn’t sure whether the sound that came next was lightning or a phoenix scream.

She didn’t realize she’d closed her eyes until red flared through the darkness. She waited for the familiar, electric pain to replace the lead in her bones.

A tiny, petty part of her hated that Cristo had beaten her before AB could.

But no lightning came.

When Kel finally opened her eyes, there was no rifle pointed at her. No weapon or even Cristo. Just a pink pile of shredded muscle and skin.

Splattered blood covered her trousers. Small, splintered bones stuck out at angles from the torn skin and oozing red, but Cristo’s skeleton had been obliterated to white ash that glowed against the night.

Settled behind the mess, picking at scattered remnants of Cristo’s carcass, was Savita, burning hot enough to evaporate the blood seeping toward her.

Kel didn’t have the strength to process what she was seeing. She forced every scrap of adrenaline in her body to help her stand up. As she wobbled to her feet, Savita looked up. Those ink-black eyes pinned Kel in place. Kept her standing.

Coup was at her side a moment later. He lifted a palm to her cheek. “Are you okay?”

Kel nodded, slowly, though the question almost made her laugh. “Are you?” she croaked.

Coup only offered a shaky smile.

Then, Kel did laugh. A desperate, hoarse sound that tore through her throat, though there was nothing funny about what lay ahead of her. Cristo was gone. Savita had left him as little more than a few scraps of pink.

As though she’d heard Kel’s thoughts, Savita snapped her beak. Ducking her head to Kel’s height, Savita crept toward her tamer. Kel felt the phoenix’s temperature lower, and her presence was like rain against her skin. Painful, but bearable.

Kel couldn’t make out any of Savita’s body. No feathers or wings or beak. Just two eyes staring at Kel.

Then, through wisps of fire, Kel could make out one feather. Two more, then three. A trail of feathers was cleared of flames along Savita’s side, and then her back.

Where Savita’s saddle would have sat.

Kel couldn’t breathe.

Sav couldn’t be offering what Kel thought she was. She couldn’t be…

The phoenix merely stared at her, motionless.

Kel risked a hand against Savita’s wing; the narrow stretch that was now free of flames. The feathers were still silky soft, and not nearly as hot as they should have been.

Coup stepped closer to Savita. As Kel held out her hand to Coup, Savita clicked her beak—or at least, the darker flames that Kel assumed were a beak—and released another roar.

The pair winced. Coup stepped back, and Savita calmed.

His features were taut as he said, “She’s too hot, Kel. I can’t get any closer. How can you stand it?”

Kel frowned. She turned back to Savita’s wing, spreading her fingers across the darkened feathers.

Maybe it was a numbness from AB. Maybe she was delirious from the sancter’s shot.

Or maybe—just this once—Kel would let herself believe in the lullabies her father had sung to her.

Maybe she’d pretend that Savita trusted— needed —Kel, too.

Maybe the raging fire in Kel’s veins had never been AB, but a gift from Savita. To prepare her for this. For now.

Kel bunched her hand in Savita’s feathers. Savita grumbled, as if to say, Hurry up .

Kel laughed again, softly this time. The electricity was already fading from her veins. If she was going to do this, she needed to do it now . “I have to go, Coup.”

If she stayed, she’d die. She’d fade away in comfort, surrounded by family. It was more than most people got. Maybe that should have been enough for her.

But Savita was offering her a chance. Not a promise; a chance at another future. Even if there was more pain ahead of her, more fire and blood, it would be worth it. If it meant she could stay with her family, it would always be worth it.

Even though Cristo was gone, Savita was still in danger. Kel would die and Cristo’s allies or sponsors would want Savita. Maybe even the Cendorian Council. Neither of them was safe. Not yet.

But maybe… maybe Savita’s rebirth could save them both.

Coup’s throat bobbed. Despite Savita’s grumbling, Kel stepped away from her firebird. Instead, she stepped into Coup’s outstretched arms.

And then they were both crying. Not soft tears or glistening eyes, but harsh sobs and wails coughed into each other’s necks. Pleas and promises and words they hadn’t spoken yet, but had known.

Sobs turned to breathless kisses and those turned to a deeper embrace.

Kel tried to memorize everything about him: the salty taste of his lips, the feel of his calloused hands, the way she felt his brow furrow when he deepened their kisses.

She wanted to learn everything about him—every dream he’d ever had and the future that he’d weave them into.

But if this was all that fate would allow, she’d take it greedily.

It would never be enough, but it was more than she’d ever hoped for.

When Savita’s grumbling turned to thunder and too long had passed, Coup pulled away. He nodded toward Savita. “You better come back in one piece, or you’ll have hell to answer to.”

Kel managed a grin. “That’s the best pep talk I’ve ever heard.”

With a shaking hand he tucked a strand of knotted hair behind her ear and said, “I’ll make sure that Cristo Industries stops their experiments. If there’s a cure for AB—we’ll find it another way.”

Kel thought of Dira, as much her family as her father had been. She thought of Rahn, who’d lost Cristo and Estra. They’d all lost so much to AB. Kel didn’t doubt that Coup’s words were true.

Kel kissed him one last time, a soft, lingering touch that she seared into her mind.

Then Coup helped her onto Savita’s back.

He could barely stand close enough to boost her up. Kel could feel Savita’s heat, but it was nothing compared to the heavy lead in her bones and the comforting fire in her veins. She laid low against Savita’s back and gripped fistfuls of feathers. Whatever happened next, she was ready.

Savita screamed again and wasted no time before launching into the sky. Kel let out a scream alongside Savita, wondering if anyone below could see her amid Savita’s blazing glory. If they could see the girl riding the sun across the starry sky.

It took all of Kel’s strength to hold on. She didn’t know where Savita was heading—somewhere safe, or perhaps to Kel’s death. She could feel the phoenix heating up around her, the flames expanding and shifting color.

Preparing to rebirth.

Savita flew higher. Clouds soared alongside them. Below, Kel could see not just the red, dry dust and speckled forests of Cendor—but all of Salta. Ebrait, swathed in water and blue temples. The emerald isle of Dresva. Pale buildings and shimmering sprites across Ascira. All she’d ever known.

Would Savita coat Kel in her ashes? Or would she leave Salta to find a new freedom, and kill Kel with her rebirth? Kel didn’t have an answer. But she had hope—and a family to return to.

And now, soaring over sapphire oceans and fiery gales, Kel would be damned if this was the last time she’d fly.

She didn’t believe in myths and legends. But Cristo, despite his brutal flaws, had proven the science of his dream. If Savita permitted it, maybe rebirth was possible for her, too.

Savita rose higher into the sky. Kel bit down on her lip to keep from screaming. The fire around her was starting to eat at her fingers, her hands, ghostly beneath the softening moonlight. Soon, the blaze would envelop her entirely. But it wasn’t painful.

The fire felt like bottled sunlight. Like a fast breeze or a sharp melody. Harsh and unstoppable—and something Kel wanted to bask in forever.

When Savita rose above the gray clouds, the first rays of dawn glimmering along the distant horizon, her screams changed. They were no longer pitchy and shrill, but piercingly clear. Notes that rose and fell carefully, in a familiar rhythm that Kel could sing in her sleep.

It was her song. Savita’s song.

The tune that Kel had sung to the uncollared phoenix in Fieror.

The lullaby her father had always sung to her at night.

She felt Savita’s voice swell around her, coaxing the flames higher, like obedient serpents.

The song was made of wind chimes and lightning and barren heat.

It was Cendor, in all its sharp, wild, breathtaking beauty.

Kel twined her voice with Savita’s, though not in song, but in a hope.

A promise.