Page 17 of The Cruel Dawn (Vallendor #2)

The rectangular window in this aerie has no glass.

It’s deep enough for someone to sit in and tall enough for someone to stand.

The dark stone walls and ceiling are speckled with imprints left by long-dead creatures of the sea, pocked with bright green moss, golden mushrooms, and lush purple flowers.

This aerie is solid, like an above-the-sea coral reef. A living thing.

My heartbeat slows the moment I step into this space and this thick silence. I’ve longed for this peace.

Tall bookcases lining most of the east wall are filled with thousands of books with both leather and wood spines.

The ceiling is high enough to accommodate a giant bear standing on top of a whale.

Parts of the fading mural are hard to see, but I do spot the bright light in the center of the drawing and the white, black, and orange rings vibrating away from that shining orb.

My eyes drift to the plain, wooden furniture placed around the room.

No tapestries hang on these walls, and no rugs lie across the stone floor.

Plants, glassware, vats of liquids, powders, and balls of fire floating over basins fill long tables.

What is Uncle Agon cataloging? Which Renrian has brought him plants and gems, songs and spells?

Someone clears his throat. A man with butterscotch skin, long milky braids, and mutton chops whiter than new snow stands at the farthest, more crowded table.

His scarlet robe and matching trousers are embroidered with flames and keys, and all of it shimmers.

The top of the robe covers his arms and wraps around his torso as the rest trails behind him like a cloak.

I press my shaky hand to my lips, and I smile. “I remember you.”

“It was just a matter of time before you returned,” Agon the Kindness says, tucking his hands inside the sleeves of his thick robe.

“Like a moth drawn to flames.” The air around his mouth ripples as though his words have shape.

His voice crackles like fire—not wildfire or my own fire that sometimes lacks control, but fire found in a hearth that provides warmth for children and housecats.

The heavy link chain around his neck ends with a heavier-looking owl amulet made of gray-lavender metal.

A blue-gray-green stone sits between the owl’s brows.

My chest suddenly fills with warmth, and a sense of comfort washes over me. For the moment, I’ve forgotten my pain because his presence brings me joy. He is the connection to my past that I’ve longed for. I’m so close to falling at his feet, wrapping my arms around his legs, and never letting go.

“I’ve missed you,” I say, surprised that I sound like I’m about to cry.

“And I’ve missed being a part of our family.

I’ve been wandering this realm with no memories, surrounded by people, yes, but ultimately alone.

I speak the truth when I say that seeing you, I finally feel as though I belong somewhere, like I belong to someone. ”

A teardrop tumbles down my blood-crusted cheek and slips into my smile. “Thank you, Uncle, for asking the Council to restore my travel privileges. I’m truly grateful.” I limp toward him. “I’ve needed someone, and I’m happy to finally be with someone who loves me—”

Wait .

I cock my head. “What did you just say? Like a moth returning ?”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve come here to make demands,” he says, his eyes roving over my bloody face and stained armor.

I gape at the old man, then shake my head. “Demands? I don’t understand.”

He squeezes the bridge of his nose, then says, “I know Sybel has sent you here this time, but like I’ve said before: I am still the seer and wisdom of this abbey.

I make the decisions here. No one else. And my response remains unchanged.

As much as I care about you, as much as I love you—you remain my sweet sister’s baby girl—as much as I wanted to help you become more, you cannot stay here. I can’t allow it.”

And just like that…I’m still the enemy.

I stand as upright as I can and lift my chin. “This is Vallendor, my realm , and no one tells me where I can and cannot be.”

“This place is not Vallendor,” he spits. “It is the Abbey of Mount Devour, a seat of power for Supreme. And may I remind you: Vallendor and every realm will never belong to lesser beings like you, child .”

“For someone named Agon the Kindness,” I say, unshrinking, “for someone who is my uncle , you aren’t being very kind right now. Fine: I’m only a guest here, but as you said, Sybel told me to come. So, please, be kinder.”

He stares at me. “You have no idea how nice I’m being at this very moment.”

His jab makes my heart snap. His brusqueness hurts more than my injuries from the fight down at the sea and every fight I’ve had since finding myself sprawled in those woods outside of Maford.

“Well, thank you for your kindness and patience, Uncle.” I limp to the aerie’s only window and gaze out to those clouds. “I do remember you, and I remember our once-upon-a-time. My favorite memory is that day we traveled to the seaside and…”

Clear waters tickled my toes. Starfish speckled the sand.

Birds chased crabs across the shore. A large blanket had been spread on a beach, and a basket filled with honeycakes sat open.

Back then, Uncle Agon’s braids were darker as he waded with me through foamy seawater.

My mother, with her soft smile and hair like mine, held me in her arms.

Many seasons have passed since then, and now, I turn back to my uncle and say, “You would carry me on your shoulders, and you’d help me build these incredibly elaborate sandcastles. Hmm. Sandcastles that resembled this abbey.”

I wander over to the nearest bookcase—there are no dusty cobwebs on these shelves.

I run my fingers along thick and velvety spines.

The letters and shapes on a few of these books are written in languages that I don’t know yet—there are at least 67,000 realms. Most are books with words that I do know, in tongues that I do speak.

Books on travel and customs, recipes and incantations.

Some tomes bear the lettering of the Renrians with others taken from realms like Threka, Gropool, and the now-destroyed Kynne.

Glass jars containing preserved herbs, powders, and rare alchemical ingredients are arranged by size, their contents labeled with tags written with a steady hand. Jimson weed. Oleander. Sanguine hyssop.

Veril would’ve marveled at this collection.

I can see him now, lavender eyes wide, gasping at each new shelf, racing around the room, pulling books to read immediately, and remembering the places of books he’d read next.

He would’ve been the biggest sensation and deepest well of knowledge at the next Renrian convocation.

That old man had been so much kinder to me than this old man—my own blood—is right now.

“This wood?” I say, knocking my knuckles against a bookshelf. “I miss this wood.”

Fierer. Stronger than all the oaks and ironwood of Vallendor.

I look down at my feet. “And this stone? I miss this stone.”

Catherite. A mineral that contains almost every gem in the realms-—except one. Becomes as soft or as hard or as magnetic as needed. The thorax of my moth amulet is made of catherite.

“My mind,” I say, “wants to learn more as I simply stand here. Amazing.”

“You’re injured,” the old man marvels.

In many ways.

I laugh. “Thought you’d never notice.”

He closes his eyes, lifts his hands, and whispers words that I can’t hear. Then he nods.

The swelling and soreness of my muscles beneath my armor lessens, and my spine straightens. My calf feels stronger, and so do my hands.

I whisper, “Thank you for yet another gift.”

Was this truly a gift or did he heal me out of duty? Like taking out the trash, you do it not because you love it, but to keep out nasty flies.

At the other end of the room, in the gloom, I see two sentinels, their pale skin illuminating the darkness. I nod toward the guards. “They’ll never leave it, will they?”

“It’s their job to keep watch,” Agon says.

I sit in the closest chair to my uncle. “So what’s our plan to destroy Danar Rrivae? From what Sybel has told me, you need me to do the actual destroying.”

“To my chagrin.”

“Chagrin?” Smiling, I cock my head and squint at him.

“I’m trying my hardest to ignore your digs but…

” I place my hands, prayer-style, against my lips.

“Please understand. I’m very, very tired.

I’ve traveled from the farthest places in the realm to see you.

I’ve fought creatures that spit fire, and I’ve brawled with men who reek of death and disease, and I’ve resisted elements that tried to grind me into powder.

I’ve eaten fish that tastes like sand, and up until three days or so ago, I hadn’t had a proper bath in ages, and right now, even my fingernails hurt.

I’ve done all of this, yet here you are, uttering ‘to my chagrin ’? ”

I lean toward him. “Even though you’re insulting me, I’m still here.

In other words, Agon the Kindness, Uncle Agon , I’ve made an extraordinary effort to reach the Abbey of Mount Devour, and I’m gonna continue to try hard, and I will ignore your rudeness and displeasure and chagrin .

After everything I’ve been through, I need you to also try harder. Okay? Okay.”

I fill my lungs with air, then slowly release that breath until the muscles in my neck and shoulders loosen.

Agon watches me in silence. Then: “Are you done?”

My eyes fill with tears, and I shake my head, not understanding. My stomach churns, and bile burns my insides. Because I thought this was it, that after everything, I’d finally have a place here with my family. “Why are you being so cruel to me?” I whisper. “How have I wronged you? Tell me.”

For a moment, Agon’s eyes soften. “What do you want, Kai?” he asks.