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The wind battered against Tanwen as she clung to the rock face. The gust lamented a terrified howl as though just as distressed as she to find itself blowing at such a deadly height.

With no moonlight, Tanwen maneuvered along the northern cliffside of Galia by the illumination coming from the Kaiwi River. It was slow, painful work of feeling her way over the jagged slab’s surface. Tanwen sucked in a breath, stomach jumping to her throat as one of her feet lost purchase. She caught another lip with her toe, digging her fingers in for dear life as a scattering of falling rock was swallowed by the looming clouds below. It was a soft mirage that hid the great distance between herself and the angry, churning Aspero Sea.

Tanwen momentarily closed her eyes, nerves like a cluster of swooping swallows. Her biceps strained from her desperate grip on the cold, sharp stone, her thighs and calf muscles screaming.

Tanwen was seriously beginning to doubt her decision to attempt this climb.

But it was the only way.

A stubborn fire awoke in her gut as she glanced up, gaze holding the gentle glow coming from the back of the groundskeeper’s cottage, still a precarious distance away.

I will get there, she promised herself. I will get to them.

With a steadying inhale, Tanwen continued sliding her way across and up the rock.

She and Eli had been quick to learn her brother and father had been moved from the kidet barracks during their absence.

Despite the overwhelming chatter surrounding that morning’s execution, Huw had been all too pleased to fill her in on what had transpired while she was away. Which included the inventor being paraded through the great hall, his son shuffling in shackles at his heels, toward their new quarters. It was a statement by the king once they had celebrated successfully breaking ground on the new mine. Pay attention, my subjects, I do keep my word for those who obey the crown’s commands.

It had been the only promising development since Tanwen’s arrival.

That was until Eli scouted the cottage’s location.

It was situated on the northernmost lip of the palace grounds, and two kidets stood sentry at the front while one took purchase on a nearby temple’s rooftop. Their coverage was thorough except for the raw, wild cliffside that hugged the house’s back wall. But no one in their right mind would approach from there, least of all survive if they tried. And if one flew in from the north, they would be seen by the aerial guard.

But Tanwen was no longer sane; she was desperate.

So she approached from the cliffside like a lunatic.

A shot of jealousy edged between Tanwen’s ribs as she thought of Eli already inside the cottage. He held no desire to remain with Tanwen given she might very well plummet to her death. Much easier for him to scurry in from the various cracks in the cottage’s foundation so he could give her father and Thol warning to expect her by the back window.

Tanwen let out a grunt as she pulled her way to the next handhold before the next and then the next. It was a snail’s pace, but it was progress as the wind continued to slam her from every angle.

Her only protection from the harsh gale was her clothes.

Tanwen was back in her clan garb, having changed into the dark pants and coat before she had descended over the cliff. She hoped that if any Volari were flying nearby, she would blend in with the shadowed rock. Also, her father’s wing schematic was still hidden in the lining of her jacket.

Gradually, the light above grew brighter as she neared the cottage.

Her heartbeat fell into double speed as the kitchen window came into view.

And then she was pulling herself up, breaths labored as she twisted to press her back to the wooden slatted wall, her heels against the small lip protruding from beneath the house. She dared not look down as she gently rapped her knuckles on the window’s pane.

Almost instantly a creak sounded by her head. The window opened. A warm, strong hand grabbed hers before she was hauled up and in. The cold wind was traded for heat, orange light from a fire, and the scent of chamomile tea.

Tanwen awkwardly maneuvered over the marble basin, the stone pressing uncomfortably into her hip, before she planted feet on solid floor.

She was met with silence as her eyes adjusted to her new surroundings: a small table tucked to one wall, two chairs, a modest-sized iron hearth, and a—

“ Oof. ”

Tanwen was pummeled into a hug.

“Sister,” Thol’s hoarse voice declared as he buried his face into her shoulder. She could feel his sobs racking his body, his hot breath on her neck. Tanwen’s chest blew apart with pain and relief as her arms encircled a torso that felt more like bones than flesh and muscle.

Worry engulfed her, and eventually, she delicately detangled herself so she could regard her brother.

Or what was left of him.

Aberthol was skin stretched over a skeleton.

His emaciated form punched her with guilt and grief.

Here she had been, sleeping comfortably and eating plenty within the palace, while her brother was ... becoming this.

Thol’s hair had grown long, to his shoulders, exaggerating the sallowness of his pale skin. His horns now looked much too heavy atop his head.

Tanwen stood paralyzed, unsure how to digest this new brother, this withering one.

Her hatred for King Réol awoke like the heat of ten thousand suns. The poisoned pendant beneath her shirt pulsed, as though sensing her ire, and whispered, Yes, yes.

“Wen.”

Tanwen’s pulsed skipped upon hearing the familiar voice, and she glanced behind her brother.

Her father slid into the fire’s light. His face was shaved, revealing the oddity of his youth despite his age. Proof of his Volari blood. His hair was still in tight brown curls, cropped short, and maintained. But what revealed the truth behind his polished veneer was the exhaustion that swam in his green eyes and the bruises beneath, proving sleepless nights.

In that moment her father was both familiar and like a stranger, deepening the ache in Tanwen’s chest and intensifying her uncertainty about this reunion.

But then Gabreel took two long strides before pulling Tanwen into his arms.

It was a bone-crushing, soul-healing hug.

“ Wen ,” her father said again, almost reverently, his voice thick with emotion. “My wyrthia.”

Tanwen released a shaky breath as she inhaled his familiar fragrance of ink and parchment and wood. Even here, so far from their home, his scent remained the same.

“Father,” she returned, tears now spilling down her cheeks as she melted into his arms.

She turned to find Thol watching their embrace from a distance.

His features were hard to discern behind her blur of tears, but all Tanwen cared to take in was that she had found them.

Was with them.

A tremor of relief and terror and desperate hope took hold of her.

Tanwen was at last surrounded by the family she had sacrificed so much to find.

The wind continued to howl around the cottage, where Tanwen, Thol, and her father sat within their workroom.

The wing schematics were spread across the table in the center, candlelight pooling warmth across the parchment as each of them remained quiet. Tanwen had just finished explaining the plan she and her mother had come up with. Even Eli was silent, attentive, as he rested on a nearby notebook, whiskers twitching in anticipation.

“I had nearly forgotten about these,” her father eventually said as he ran his fingers over marks he had made over two decades ago. “Your mother certainly liked to indulge me back then.”

“She said you constructed a pair that worked,” explained Tanwen, hopeful.

Their reunion had been hurried, each of them understanding time was not on their side. Too soon Tanwen would be due back in the atenté dorms, lest her absence be noted, and evidently the kidets liked to poke their heads in the cottage before they changed shifts at midnight.

This could be the only chance the three of them got to figure out their escape plan.

“I did make one that could fly,” admitted her father, brows pinched. “But I never used it at this high of an elevation; the wind behaves differently here.” As if the wind wanted to prove this, a gust rattled against the window along the far wall.

“Then rework your design based on what you do know of this elevation,” said Tanwen, tone hard. She didn’t need excuses; she needed solutions. “You are one of the greatest inventors in Galia,” she continued, “and have made the impossible possible before. You will make this work, Father, because our lives depend on it.”

Gabreel’s brows rose as he met her gaze, surprise clear in his features.

Tanwen couldn’t fault his reaction; she was just as astonished by her speech. Never had she spoken thus to her father. Nor would she have dared to in the past.

But no longer was she the same daughter he had raised, just as he and Thol were not the same father and brother she had parted ways with in Zomyad.

Tanwen furtively glanced to Thol across the table, the sight of him still painful.

Though they hadn’t discussed what he had endured while on this island, Tanwen knew Eli had been right—a sickness was growing inside her brother. One made from living through excruciating pain and cruelty, anger and fear, over and over and over again.

It made her nauseous to think about, to witness, her guilt overwhelming. She also noted the wide berth her brother now gave their father, Thol’s hesitancy to meet his gaze.

The change was a blow to her chest.

The Thol who had idolized their father, hung on his every word, was no more.

Further proof that whatever had transpired for these two while in Galia had broken them both.

The necessity for their escape wrapped tighter around her throat, suffocating.

Tanwen had to get them out of here, and soon.

Her father was studying the plans again, slowly nodding. “Yes,” he said. “You’re right. These can work.” He pressed his palm to the parchment. “They have to.”

Tanwen barely hid her sigh of relief. “Do you need my help in acquiring any of the needed material?”

Gabreel’s gaze remained pinned to his schematic, mind clearly churning. “Not currently. We can disguise most of this as model building around efficiencies with the new mine.”

“Good,” replied Tanwen. She had hoped for such an answer.

“What of you and the elixir?” asked Thol. “By these calculations we’ll need six jadüri blooms between our gliders.”

“Yes,” answered Tanwen, brows furrowing. “But I can take care of that. As an atenté, I have access to the gardens.”

Tanwen noted the worried crease appearing between her father’s brows. Clearly, he understood the business of atentés and the risk they faced, but he held back whatever thoughts filled his mind on the matter.

“This leads us to our timeline,” said Tanwen, already anticipating an argument. “We must leave the night of the next full moons.”

“The next ...?” began her father, incredulous. “But that’s in one month’s time.”

“Yes,” said Tanwen. “But as you know, the jadüri’s nectar needs to be bloomed to activate the ingredients in the elixir. The longer we wait to use it after it’s made, the less powerful it is. We’ll need all the power we can get to fly from here to the edge of the Cactus Forest,” Tanwen explained. “Plus, the princess’s prewedding celebration is planned for that night. The palace will be fully distracted. No one will be thinking of you and Thol, and I’ll be able to walk more freely to make my way to you.”

Tanwen had gone over this plan again and again since leaving her mother.

It was a good one, if precarious.

Every step had to be flawlessly executed, and there were still many unknowns. Like how exactly she’d be able to steal jadüri.

But she’d find a solution, just like her father would find a way to build their wings while under constant supervision. Because they had no other choice.

Which was probably why Tanwen had omitted mentioning one major part in all this: killing King Réol.

At the thought, the stone pendant shivered a cold kiss against her chest.

Use me, it whispered, reminding her of her debt to a god.

Tanwen shifted with unease beside her father.

His success in the building of these wings was their only hope. She couldn’t afford to distract him with this added burden. He had already been disturbed to hear Bosyg’s involvement. He didn’t need to know precisely how involved the goddess was in them succeeding.

After all, Tanwen was the one who had made this agreement; she would be the one to fulfill it.

“All right,” said her father, clearly not pleased by the reality of their timeline but resigned, nonetheless. “By the night of the next full moons, we will plan to fly from Galia.”

A heady anticipation filled Tanwen’s veins, her heart racing. She glanced between Thol and her father. “It will work,” she said.

While neither echoed her sentiments, she understood that doubt was a luxury none of them could afford.