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twenty-two

Dove

A s we stand by the north gate, we look up at the imposing, forested mountain range before us. The gate is more of an open circular stone walkway with one warden—a lookout.

Anyone is free to leave the gates of the kingdom, but you will not be granted access unless you are under the king’s orders. So, basically, if you leave, you will not be granted access to return.

I’ve never heard of anyone leaving Haven.

My hands quiver as I take the first step separating myself from my home. Connecting my booted foot to the soil below, a gust of terror grips me. What have I done? Did I really kill the high priestess? Will the dyre wolves seek my death? Is the king truly a liar?

My own mind fights the new truths of the past turn of the suns.

I’ve never felt so much panic, my whole body visibly trembling. Even facing my death wasn’t this scary. Surrendering to death was easy. This? This is hard. Questioning everything I’ve ever known. Leaving behind the places and people who made me and broke me.

My body frozen, I find it hard to pursue my new course until fingers slip through my own, my fae prince a soothing presence beside me.

Closing my eyes, I look towards the impossible in front of me and remember a soft, tiny face. This is for you. The sigh echoes through my soul, landing on the wings of an angel. Argus rears his head and roars.

“Let’s go.” I move our procession towards our difficult task.

It turns out my guide is quite good at what he does. When I tell him so, he acts hurt in his surprise, explaining that he would often lead scouting missions around Terra. I am surprised the prince of the fae does more than sit on his arse all turn and be pampered, but he says everyone within Terra is assigned work to contribute to the community.

This notion intrigues me because I’ve never heard of the king or Castor doing anything productive for Haven. I’m also still not sure how Cardinal contributed to the temple.

As the suns start to break upon the shore, we manage to get our group of around forty people to the top of the mountain. Luckily, the farmers and their families are used to the rough terrain, as they often collect berries along the southern mountain ranges. This knowledge proves very beneficial as we stumble across a ripened blueberry bush towards the top.

Food is a concern moving forward, but Rivern assures us that the land will provide if we treat her with the respect she deserves.

My second concern is the fae prince himself. The farmers and their families worked out pretty quickly that the male is not a human. This resulted in a revolt halfway up the mountain, which took precious movements to defuse. Mercifully, the fact that Rivern is fae isn’t reason enough for our little party to disband, but the others watch his steps carefully.

“We need to move faster.” Rivern crouches upon the edge of the cliff that gives us an overview of Haven and the ocean below.

Running dirt through his hand, he whispers to the air as I watch a large snow-white bird caw overhead.

“Once the king knows of your disappearance, he will send the dyre wolves after you,” Rivern sneers, standing to stride back towards the humans, who are taking a moment to pause.

“They need rest,” I press.

Swivelling like a dancer doing a perfect spin, Rivern strides back towards me, securing me with his violet irises. “And what of you? You forget who the king wants.” He motions his hands towards the villagers within the shade of the trees. “He does not care whether they live or die. You, though…” He brings his broad hand to cover the side of my face. “You, he wants dead, and I’m guessing he will stop at nothing to make that happen.” His thumb rubs soothingly back and forth along my cheek, and everything within me wants to melt into a puddle at the feel of his touch. “You will die if we stay with these humans.”

The pieces of my broken heart wither. He is right. Gideon found me once, and he will find me again.

My mind spins. Am I putting these people in danger by being here? I promised them sanctuary.

I grasp Rivern’s wrists. “You have to take them.” He looks down at me, confused. “You are right. My presence will only keep the villagers I brought here in danger. You must take them,” I plead.

Rivern’s eyes widen as gleaming lines flicker to life on his bronzed skin. “No.” One word, spoken with such depth and clarity that it scores the depths of our bond. “You may send the villagers on without you, but you are not leaving my sight, Little Dove.” His fingers move down my neck, soothing the uneven map of my scars. Shivers take over my exposed fragility.

I want to battle him over this, make him see logic. I’m a lost cause, not worthy of the Goddess’s song or to be his bond. I’m broken. My heart is nothing but shattered pieces of glass lying within the cavity of my chest.

The bond will break with my death. By leaving Haven, I’ve only prolonged the inevitable. By surrendering to the Goddess, I surrender to my fate. But I will be damned if I don’t try my hardest to follow through on my commitments. My word, my integrity, this truth is the only thing I have left.

I will get these people safely to Terra, and then I will expose the king for what he truly is—a deceiver. A cheat. A knave.

“Fine,” I concede, understanding the depths of his commitment through our connected threads.

I take a step back and direct my gaze to the waiting villagers. “How do you suppose we get to Terra before the dyre wolves catch us?”

At the tail end of my words, a gust of wind whips my hair around, and the already-loosened ribbon flies from my head. With extremely quick reflexes, Rivern darts out a hand and grabs it before it flies out towards the ocean.

Breathing in deeply, he looks up at the lightening sky above and whistles, a musical sound reminiscent of his lyrical voice moving through his lips.

Before my eyes, the same large ivory bird I spotted before comes into view. The beauty of its flight is not lost on me. The priestesses most revered creatures.

They are taught within the priesthood that the Goddess gifted the birds to her disciples as a direct line of access to the one true Goddess herself in the stars. The aviary within the temple houses many smaller species of birds. Nothing like this expansive, winged bird of prey.

Unable to take my eyes off the massive bird, the snowy creature swoops down to land on Rivern’s outstretched arm.

My voice catches in my breath as I see him start conversing with the bird. “It is a risk,” he says, and I miss parts of the conversation as shock sets in.

I read about this. The priestesses told us one story, but my books told me another.

It’s a story of the Goddess choosing birds as her tokens from the stars, yes, but also as intimates to her fae people. A balance—one of land, one of sky, connected by choice, bonded by devotion. A give and take. Like witnessing like. Intimates .

The texts describe intimates as bridges to the world in the stars, the playground of the Gods.

“I…” The word falls from my lips softly, but Rivern does not miss it, looking towards me. “It’s true?” I continue. He stares at me quizzically, and his oddly handsome white bird cocks its head. “Intimates exist?”

Truly, I’m surprised he can hear me with the utter lack of noise coming out of my voice, just the barest trickle.

I don’t think I’ve ever held such admiration for another creature. When I first came to the temple, I would sit outside the aviary and watch as the many differently coloured birds reached up to touch the sky. The freedom they possessed was unfathomable to my child’s mind. Until I was told the aviary was only for the priestesses, not servants, and I was quickly moved along.

He doesn’t have to tell me this bird is his. I can feel it. The bond that connects us is alight within the bird’s presence—almost buoyant and airy . Freedom. I can feel it within him.

Wetness drips down my face, tears dropping unencumbered from the corners of my eyes.

Ever since I was a little girl, I have wished to know this feeling, the unimaginable flight of escape described in the stories of the library. And now, through this bond, I feel it: freedom. This one taste is not enough, though. I want it for myself. I want what Rivern has.

Not moving, I don’t say anything else. He quickly finishes his conversation with his bird friend, letting him take flight and moving back within my atmosphere.

“These are not tears of sadness.” I shake my head, wiping away the streaks dripping down my face, letting out a small chuckle at the absurdity of my current state.

I am crying over a bird.

Rivern pulls me towards him and tucks me into his chest, his front to my back, turning us to face his retreating intimate in the distance. “Solen is my intimate,” he begins. “Most intimates these turns are chosen from the many breeds we keep within the open air aviary within Terra, but Solen chose me on my first expedition outside the kingdom barriers.” He grips me a little tighter around the waist. “I was seventeen, and wanted to prove to myself and to my mother that I could make it outside of Terra. Instead, I found myself stuck between a rock and a hard place when a magnificent white creature found me. Solen.”

With this new insight into Rivern, I am becoming more intrigued by this male. I want to know more about him beyond our bond.

Untangling his arms from around me, he states, “Let me take care of this while I think.” He softly presses down my tangled mess of brown hair and begins to use his deft fingers to part it.

Working expertly, he quickly portions my hair and intertwines strands, all with a gentleness I’ve not experienced since before my time at the temple.

Closing my eyes to the rapidly rising suns in front of me, I find myself leaning towards Rivern’s touch as he completes the simple but heart-warming task.

“There,” he exclaims as he slides his fingers down my hair.

With my eyes now dry, I turn my face up to meet his.

Looking up at Rivern, the suns bouncing off his effervescent skin, I track the swirls down the sides of his face. “I have an idea,” he proclaims, dimples pronounced.

“Oh?” I question, admiring his godlike beauty.

And a word I never expected to hear slips from his lips—another impossibility. “Wisps.”