Page 20 of Wings of Cruelty and Flame (Heir of Wyvara #1)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

AMEIRAH

T he storm didn’t stop all night, hammering the moss-covered walls of the fortress, turning the forested lawn outside its heavy doors into a marsh. Varidian and Fahad didn’t return.

I fell asleep on the window seat of the bedroom Shula strong-armed me into some time around dawn and startled awake with my forehead pressed to the cold glass of the window, the room chilled around me. I didn’t dream of killing Shahzia tonight. I didn’t dream at all.

By the soft blue of the sky, it was still early morning. I’d slept three hours at most, and I felt it in the arch of my back, the crick in my neck, the throbbing in my head, and my grit-sore eyes. I rubbed the sleep from them, only exacerbating the dryness, and got off the stone sill. I gritted my teeth against the dull pain in my tailbone and went in search of Varidian’s legion.

I’d had plenty of time to think during the night, waiting for my husband to return, and I’d come to the uneasy decision to not kill any of them until I had answers about Naila’s betrayal. Things weren’t adding up, but all the legion knew was she was a traitor and she’d hurt them. Hurt Shula.

I couldn’t imagine my cousin being callous enough to break someone’s heart on purpose, but that didn’t change the fact she had. There were so many things I didn’t know, and I would delay avenging her death until I did.

That didn’t mean I liked the legion, or even that I’d be friendly to them, but… Zaarib was still on the lawn in the rain, still running through sword drills, and I couldn’t help but feel we were suffering the same fear. Maybe his was worse because he’d known Varidian for years, while I’d known him days. But Varidian Saber was mine. The idea of him never coming back from the storm made me want to cry.

He couldn’t give me a taste of affection, look at me the way he did, proclaim me his, and then just vanish forever.

I found a woollen djellaba and pulled it over my clothes, the chill of the fortress making me shudder as I ventured into the stone hallway. It was dark, the windows too narrow to carry light far and the torches yet unlit. It was also unsettlingly quiet, the soft whisper of my footsteps over the old stone floor the only sound that reached my ears. Despite knowing four other people occupied the fortress, I felt alone in this unfamiliar, unknowable place.

If there was a room full of magic, gold columns, and windows overlooking a waterfall just upstairs, what other secrets of magic did this place harbour?

“Probably just sleeping,” I whispered to myself, but fine hairs rose on the back of my neck regardless.

I made my way warily down the winding staircase to the bottom floor, glad I still had the knives Varidian buckled on my body. I flexed my hands inside my gloves and reminded myself I had my own dangerous magic.

I headed for the kitchens out of habit, struck by how different it was walking into this grey, lonely room than finding Rawiya in the Diamond’s warm, cluttered kitchen. There was no chaos or mess here, but it lacked the charm, too. Everything was in its place, marble and stone sparkling clean, pots and pans hung tidily, tagines organised into a precise stack. I wondered if this was Aliah’s work, if she’d tidied the kitchen after she cooked last night.

I usually found comfort in quiet, but all it did now was remind me I was in an unfamiliar house with people I barely knew, abandoned by my husband who may or may not return. Outside, the storm punished the windows and walls, bending the trees under its force, growing louder. Was Varidian flying through the gale even now? Or was he already dead?

I made mint tea quickly, finding a scrap of comfort in the familiar motion and ritual of it, the sweet scent of the leaves curling into the air as it brewed. I hesitated a moment before grabbing a second cup, filling the beautifully painted blue ceramic as far as I could without burning my hands.

“He’ll come back,” I said to the empty kitchen, ignoring the panic in my chest. “He’ll come back.”

Outside, Zaarib was still whirling and stabbing in fluid motions, the sword like an extension of his arm, the pommel branded with the fox of House Kissami. I sat on the solid step in front of the fortress doors, gritting my teeth at the icy chill that immediately soaked through my thighs, and set one cup beside me while I sipped from the other.

Rain lashed down from the sky, the fierce wind driving it into my face, soaking hair that had only dried hours ago. I cursed my soft heart again as I watched Zaarib halt in the middle of a smooth slice of his sword, and knew he was aware of me.

His leathers were slick with rain, his long black hair so drenched it was like an oil slick. Had he been out here all night? You’ll catch a cold, stupid girl, I heard Xiu snap in my head, the closest I’d come to having a mother even if she was a monster.

I met his hard stare when he strode towards me with barely leashed violence and nodded at the cup beside me. “Because you saved me from a broken neck yesterday.”

Zaarib’s hatred melted into confusion, his steps slowing from the angry stomp he’d begun. I felt his stare linger on the dark smudges beneath my eyes, the lines of misery cut into my face. He approached carefully, like I was a deadly animal. I wondered if his wyvern had passed on my warning about being able to kill any living being with a touch. I viciously hoped so.

“This doesn’t make us friends,” I said when Zaarib scooped the cup into his large brown hands, watching me warily.

“No,” he agreed, sinking onto the cold step with a clear foot of space between us.

“And I’m not sorry for trying to kill you.”

He snorted. “Planning another attempt?”

“Yes. But I’m only in the planning stages. No concrete strategy yet.”

“Good to know.” He inhaled the steam from the tea. “If I might make a request…”

I cast him a sidelong glance. “You can make one, but I won’t grant it.”

“Whatever awful murder you have planned for me, don’t maim my face. I’d like to be remembered for my glorious handsomeness.”

I held the cup between both hands, soaking up the warmth. “Planning to steal someone else’s face, are you?”

“Wow,” he drawled, finally taking a drink of the tea. “Wow. And here I thought your knives were the only sharpness about you. No wonder Varidian’s so enthralled with you.”

At his name, a sombre air fell over us both, seeming to hush the birds in the trees, to still the insects in the grass.

“He’ll come back,” I said, like a prediction, as if speaking it would make it true.

“Of course he will. A little rain’s not gonna take out the Scarred Serpent.”

I watched the stormy sky as the sun began its slow rise, and pretended Zaarib wasn’t lying to us both.