Page 19 of Wings of Cruelty and Flame (Heir of Wyvara #1)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

AMEIRAH

I frowned at Shula’s cryptic remark and followed her away from the window up the final set of stairs to a door I’d found locked when I explored earlier. My eyes widened when instead of reaching for the handle, Shula pressed on a spot in the middle of the door and part of the wood folded inward, a cube revolving like a puzzle box.

“I’ve never seen a door like this…” I breathed, edging closer, the pastilla languishing in my hands.

“This fortress is older than Ithanys and Kalder.” Shula gave me a sideways look. “Do you know the history of this continent? Do you know we were united before the war as a single kingdom, but shattered by the araethawn queen?”

“I know the stories.” Most were exaggerated and embellished, but it was true the two kingdoms were once united. Some of the earliest adventures I’d got my hands on had told bold and fearsome tales from that period, the books so delicate they were in danger of falling apart. “You’re talking about Wyvara.”

“I am,” Shula agreed, spinning a dial on the puzzle box, lining it up with two on either side until three stars laid out in a row above three suns and three crescent moons. The door clicked open, the scent of mint filling the staircase. “You know your history. Nabil will love you.”

“I know my legends,” I corrected. “I don’t know much about historical fact, but I love stories.”

And if I was honest, I could use a good story to distract myself from the fact Varidian had been gone for ten hours and showed no sign of returning. Mak wouldn’t let him fall no matter how rain-slick his scales were, but what if they both crashed to their deaths?

The squeak of the heavy wooden door ripped me back into the present, and I followed Shula’s imposing frame into an attic room that was so tall it was almost impossible. Like a grand throne room in an ancient palace, a silver stone floor spread around us, polished to a shine that didn’t reflect years of neglect. The fresh mint scent of the space was nothing like the dust and mildew that should have lingered. All around us, the walls gleamed silver and blue, so mirrored they caught our reflections as I followed Shula into the impressive space.

There was no way this room fit inside a tower, let alone at the very top of the fortress, where a small attic room ought to dwell. My heart quickened, a little of that hunger for magic and adventure returning. I swivelled my head as we walked, gawping at the high vaulted ceiling, the jade and cornflower blue flowers that draped from golden columns that ran the length of the room, defiant with life.

It was utterly silent except for our footsteps, but my imagination conjured the exultant cries of courtiers as they watched their ancient faerie king sit upon a throne. I could picture it atop the flight of thirty-two golden stairs directly ahead of us. But there was no king looking down over Shula and I, and no throne, only a tall silver mirror cracked from side to side. Above the shattered glass, wyvern and fae had been carved into golden stone, so detailed I expected them to leap off the lintel and soar down towards us, fire in their throats and a scream of warning echoing off the high ceilings.

“I didn’t see that waterfall when we flew in,” I said, speaking in a hush of reverence and respect. An ancient power hung over this place—either magic or history, so tangible I could almost see the scenes that must have taken place here.

On either side of the towering stairs, slender columns of golden stone held up enormous plates of glass that ran the height of the room. Beyond the windows, water cascaded from a waterfall I couldn’t begin to guess how high.

“There is no waterfall near the fortress,” Shula said, confirming my suspicions.

I took another few steps, slow, measured. “So, what do those windows show?” My heart quickened, a strange mix of fear and excitement pumping through my blood.

“We don’t know. We never did. But Kaawa was fascinated with this place. Every time she wandered off, we knew where to find her. She’d sit just there, at the bottom of the stairs by the wyvern and watch the waterfall.

I eyed that wyvern, too—one of a matched pair that guarded the base of the stairs. I could imagine my cousin sitting there, her back to the stone creature, her mind drifting the way it always did before she’d notice me watching and a smile would fill her face.

“I think this room is why she joined our legion instead of any of the others. She fought to join us, went toe to toe with riders bigger and scarier than her for the privilege.”

I glanced at Shula, watching her cross her big arms over her chest. “You have to fight to join?”

She jerked her head in a nod. “It’s strategic. If you’re fast, you join a legion known for speed. If you’re strong, you join one known for brute strength.”

“What is yours known for?”

A smile hooked her face. “Power.”

I blinked. Right. “But—Naila’s magic was in healing.” She could fix a broken bone or a shattered timber or a vase accidentally knocked from its plinth. I’d seen all three.

Shula laughed suddenly, the coarse sound echoing off the silver walls and making me jump. “Is that her magic? Really?” She grinned, sharp and caustic. “When she joined us, she had battle magic. She could look at any fight and know the outcome and predict exactly what moves to secure a win.”

“But… that makes no sense. She was a healer.” A person couldn’t have two kinds of power; it was unheard of. “She faked it,” I realised.

“Oh, no, she was a legit strategist alright. Almost prophetic.”

“Because she knew what was going to happen. Because Kalder told her their moves before they made them,” I breathed, my chest hurting.

“For years she used that knowledge to help us, to earn our trust, until she decided we were trusting enough to pull off her grand master plan.” Shula turned to me, a brittle hardness to her clenched jaw, her narrowed eyes, like a lake of pain beneath a thin veneer of ice. “But it wasn’t just Kalder feeding her their battle plans. She could sense the flow and shift of actions while she was in the middle of a fight. She had battle magic, not a trick, not a lie.”

A furrow dug between my brows. “She couldn’t have two kinds—”

“I know.” Shula stalked the rest of the way to the stairs, resting her hand on the long golden rail. I followed, confused and hurt and angry. “The others call me paranoid, say I’m a conspiracy theorist. But I think she was given that magic so she could infiltrate us.”

“Magic can’t be given,” I said carefully, sinking onto the bottom step and lifting the pastilla to my lips. Even cold, it was almost as good as the pastilla I used to have in Strava. Almost. “It’s a gift from god to gentry. You get one and accept what you’re given. You can hardly return it for a second gift.”

Trust me, I’d tried.

Shula peered up at the cracked mirror, something in her eyes making her seem so much younger than she’d been just hours ago. She couldn’t have been older than thirty and I’d put her at nearer fifty when we first met.

“I grew up not far from here, just the other side of the woods road in Woodsurn. This close to the wall, to Kalder and the site of the old wars… there are different kinds of magic out here, a-lalla. Darker kinds.”

A shudder of cold went down my spine. The last bite of pastilla turned to ash in my mouth but I choked it down. I was fiercely hungry and now my stomach had a taste, it demanded more.

She glanced at me. “If you read legends, you’ll know the magic I mean. People trapped as a prisoner in their own minds. Poison that spreads through the water until whole villages are afflicted with blackness in their veins. Shadows that blot out the moon, stealing wyvern in the night.”

“None of those are real,” I said. “They’re just stories.”

Shula smiled, sharp canine teeth bared. “Some. But some of that darkness exists in the world; it just knows where to hide. It’s clever, and careful, so it’s dismissed as a tale and only a tale. But a dark bargain of that kind could give anyone a second magic.”

Ice trickled down my spine. “But—Naila would have to hate Ithanys to go to those extremes. She’d have to have held a grudge and planned it for years.”

“Maybe she did.”

I shook my head. Naila was carefree and kind and sunshine in fae form. It didn’t make sense that she’d change overnight, that she’d plan betrayal on such a scale. That she’d commit treason. She helped Kalder kill our people, sack our villages, and then left her own legion for death.

“Could she have been working for someone?” I asked tentatively, aware I danced a treasonous line myself. “Varidian doesn’t seem to share the most familial bond with the king.”

Shula snorted. “That’s putting a fine point on it. I wouldn’t be surprised if King Bakhshi sent an assassin to kill Varidian. But she’s an odd choice. No formal training, no history in death arts.”

“A gentry’s daughter from a town most notable for candles,” I agreed with a sigh.

“Candles?”

I almost smiled. “There are four factories. The whole town smells of wax some days.”

“Better than being known for manure, like my village,” she replied, arms bulging as she leaned further against the railing. “In summer every home smells like shit. We ship it all across Ithanys.”

“Delightful.”

Shula snorted, a crooked smile on her face. It fell quickly. “I don’t think the king sent Kaawa. I think someone else did. Something else. And I think like those old stories of possession and dark, poisonous power, that something had her mind in its clawed grip.”

Ice speared my veins. “Could you have told me this when my husband wasn’t missing? Now I’m imagining him with black veins and blacker eyes and a thirst for blood.”

Shula winced. “Yeah, this might not have been the best timing. But you asked why Kaawa would betray us, and this is why.”

She looked around the room; I followed her gaze.

“I’m missing something.”

“Power,” she clarified. “You can feel it, can’t you? It’s everywhere?”

That old, hushed reverence all around us. Yes, I felt it. It was an ancient power, far older than either of us.

“Kaawa was drawn here because she was drawn to power. She was corrupted because of it.”

I shook my head. “That really is a conspiracy theory.”

Shula shrugged. “It’s either power, the king’s influence, or Kaawa was just a manipulative bitch that got off on playing us all.”

I glanced away, bristling to hear her speak of my cousin that way but also… her pain was genuine. And Naila had given her that pain, pretended to love her, and betrayed her in the end.

I wanted to know why.

When Varidian and Fahad returned, when they were safe, I would find out why Naila did what she did.