The gryphon steps back, cautious of me. But at least he's not attacking anymore.
I hear yelling from behind me. Someone is coming. I have to act fast.
I step forward, my good hand outstretched, and make soothing sounds as I approach.
The gryphon allows me to draw near, and I pat its head. "Good boy. Can I ride you now? Would that be okay?" The gryphon seems to think about my request, then lowers to the floor, bowing his head. I pull off the shackle around his leg and climb onto the saddle more gracefully than before.
The yelling grows louder.
I grab the reins and tug, and the gryphon launches into the air.
We dive off the island, fast, the wind tearing at my wounds and the night freezing my bones. The ground comes closer and closer.
I tug on the reins. "Up!"
But my gryphon keeps flying straight down. We need to level out. I pull harder, and he surges up, pushing me back in the saddle so fast I lose my grip and fall to the side. My leg catches in a leather strap, and I flip upside down, dangling like a rag doll off the saddle. The gryphon lurches wildly in the sky, confused without his rider guiding him.
I reach for my leg, trying to pull myself up, but my one arm is nearly useless from the cuts and blood, and it's hard to find purchase. I catch my ankle and attempt to leverage myself into a better position, but my bloody hands slips. The leather strap breaks.
And I fall.
The earth rushes up to greet me, and I know in this moment I am going to die. I will be a splat of blood and bone on a world I don't understand.
I close my eyes. I don't want to see when death steals me. Instead, I think of my mother, how she sang to me when I was little. I think of Fen, how his arms felt around me, how tight he held me when he was sleeping.
And then I feel arms around me. Real flesh and blood arms.
I no longer fall. I float through the sky.
I peel my eyes open, his name on my lips. "Fen?"
Asher smiles down at me. "Not quite, love."
We fly higher until we land on a cliff far above Air Island. Asher carries me off the black gryphon he guided and sits me down against a silver tree. My arm burns with pain, blood dripping everywhere from my wrist and forearm.
He doesn't speak, just rips strips of cloth off his nice suit and wraps them around my cuts until they stop bleeding. When he's finished, he sits in front of me, his face hard. "You almost died!"
I rub my arm, flinching from the pain. "I'd rather die than be a prisoner."
He pauses, the anger draining from his eyes. He falls back to sit on a stone, the moon bright behind him. "I never wanted you to be a prisoner. I wanted to tell you the truth… have you join the Fae willingly. But my father, he doesn't trust you."
"You don't have to follow him," I say. "You are your own man."
Asher looks at me with more vulnerability than I've ever seen in him. "He's my father. He's the King. He's taught me all I know."
Despite my anger and pain, something in his eyes tugs at me. I put a hand on his. "You're the better man."
He snorts. "I've had millenniums of people telling me otherwise." Asher's eyes drift to the sky above us, a sky full of stars. "Sometimes… Sometimes I just wish for home."
"Your realm?"
"No." He shakes his head. "Home. My true home. Where my brothers and I played in the Silver Gardens. Where my mom sang me songs of the angels."
I close my eyes, picturing his words in my mind. "Tell me about your home. The house you lived in."
"It's… it's hard to remember." He chuckles, but it's not a happy sound. "Gifted with immortality, but no great memory. There are only flashes left. Only dust I try to grab in the wind. I remember… I remember a palace of white and gold. I remember spires that glow like the sun. I…" he grows teary, then swipes at his eyes. "I'm sorry."
I squeeze his hand. "We all miss home."
He smiles. "Thank you. For helping me remember."
"Asher, let me go home. Let me go home back to Fen."
He looks at me deeply, a great sorrow lurking in his eyes. "Sometimes, we can never go back."
Chapter 3
LOST CITY
Fenris Vane
"Fen is a good man, but he is myopic in his focus."
—Kayla Windhelm
Her blood pumps through my veins, like fire and ice. My demon mark burns with her call, a demanding pulse that beckons me, drawing me forth, through the layers of fresh snow and ice, through the carcass of winter left behind by the storm.
I am not a man accustomed to fear, but I feel it now, filling me with its poison of doubt. What have they done with her? What will they do? What if I never see her again?
Kayla lays a hand on my arm. "I see the worry on your face, brother. Ari is strong. And if they wanted her dead, they wouldn't have gone to such lengths to keep her alive."