“Clever fox,” Vesper mumbled, thumping the glass with his finger. “I take back every bad thing I ever thought about you. Almost.”
“Who are you talking to?” Queen Nova and Dyadia moved in to see.
Selena bobbed to the other side, peering around his shoulder. She gasped. “What . . . is that a—? No such creature has graced Nerezeth for centuries!”
Vesper left the room without another word, leaving his lady mother and Dyadia still staring out the window.
Selena followed him down the corridor, rushing to keep up with his pace. “I want to know what happened. What’s all this talk of horses and flying in the ravine?”
“When I get back, I’ll tell you everything.”
“Tell me on the ride over. I’m going with you. Should I bring Nysa to help track?”
He draped his arm around her shoulders. “Leave her in the kennels. We have a fox for that.” He glanced down at her, already in her traveling tunic and trousers. She’d been dressed for a fight while keeping vigil over him at the shrine. He had a poignant thought then, of his little foundling girl in torn rags and bare feet who had never had the chance to wear anything pretty. “Let’s stop by your wardrobe first. I believe she’s close enough to your size.”
Selena looked up into his face, curiosity tugging at her silvery eyebrows. “What’s her name, brother . . . this girl you seek? And what is she to you?”
“They call her Stain. She’s my true heart’s mate. I’ve no idea how to proceed . . . no idea how I’m to bind my life to another, when I already belong to her—body, mind, and soul.”
28
Princess of Ash and Thorns
Lyra awoke with a start, jolted by snuffling sounds on the other side of her sticky cocoon. A sour film of mud, soot, and soggy leaves coated her tongue. She smacked the taste away and attempted to move. Every ligament and bone crackled, as if she’d rusted all the way through. Her resultant groan silenced the odd snuffles for an instant before they resumed.
She stretched, and the nightsky withdrew into the lacewing cloak, freeing up the shadows. They seeped away to find new hiding places. Upon their retreat, an icy chill crept in, along with the sound of dripping water. Shimmering blue light pierced through the tracery of vines still swaddling her. Harsh tugs began to pull at the weave from the outside, in synch with chomping, smacking, and swallowing.
Lyra stiffened with horror. Her cocoon was being eaten. She couldn’t scream . . . couldn’t cry out for help. Her fingers moved instinctually, pinned as they were at her waist, though whatever beast would eat spider silk, flowers, and ivy wouldn’t likely have acumen enough to read her pleas for mercy.
She twisted her shoulders to bend her elbows, then dragged her hands along her body, forcing them up the tight casing until they settled beside her chin. Sucking in a breath, she shoved her fists out of the slit for her mouth then tore away the webbing, luminous petals, and stems in clawing motions. It was like being born again . . . into a cool, dripping cave.
Her head and shoulders plunged through, and her attackers pranced back—some snorting, some growling, others whinnying nervously, their pronged heads held high. Several had glowing flowers and leaves hanging from their muzzles, half-chewed. She leaned closer for a look at the gleaming scales upon their backs and chests. One in front—taller than the others by two prongs—lowered its antlers in warning. The horns glittered in the dim blue light. Two more pawed panther-like forelegs along the stony ground, their scratching claws reverberating through her spine.
Peeling the rest of the cocoon from her clothes caused the lacewing cloak and saddlebag to slip from her shoulders. Chill bumps raised along her skin beneath her damp tunic and pants. Lyra attempted to stand. Her legs went out from under her. A surge of dizziness forced her to sit and she stared, in awe of the graceful, magnificent creatures around her. In his letters Vesper had spoken of his gatekeepers. If these were indeed brumal stags, she was at the juncture between Nerezeth and the Ashen Ravine.
Vesper. A tearing sensation scored her chest. Last she saw him, he was still dying. Prickles of heat teased her tearless eyes, but even if she had the ability to weep, she wouldn’t. She must have faith. She’d freed his lips, his nose. His throat had opened enough to share breaths between them. Even if she hadn’t cured him, it was possible the sorceress could’ve awoken and healed him. She had to find out.
She pushed herself up, propping an arm on a rock formation for support. One of the stags brayed in warning. Lyra shook off any reservations. Just like when she’d first stumbled upon her Pegasus, she felt a kinship to these beasts. The stags were partially made of moonlight like her; their scales and antlers gleamed with it. To look upon them had the effect of reviving a soul’s hope and serenity.
It fed her desire to find some way to Nerezeth and take back what was hers . . . if in fact she had anything left to fight for.
Fingernails clawing into the rock, she stepped alongside it, slowly regaining strength. Glancing over her shoulder, she scrunched her nose. The source of the shimmering blue light—a tunnel on the far end—painted the cave’s walls with an incandescent glaze. Her eyes lit to see even farther: the dripping stalactites and cascading streams that ran from high above to make puddles here below. Flower petals and leaves floated atop the water. The shoots and blossoms, having propelled her cocooned form into these depths, trailed all the way up a wide, winding ledge in a glowing trail. They gave off a gentle heat. They’re what had kept her from freezing on the journey here.
At the highest point overhead, moonlight radiated from an opening. That had to be the entrance to the cave. She could follow the flower trail out and retrace the way she came, though she had no guess how long it might take to cross the terrain.
Hours? Days? Vesper mightn’t have that long. She’d heard his cry of pain.
Considering the frigid cold outside, and all the creatures of the winter wilds that she’d seen in Dregs’s booth: cadaver brambles and rime scorpions, tinder-bats and bone-spiders, it would be no easy trek. Unsettling sounds stirred overhead . . . rubbery flapping wings and scuttling, bone-tipped legs, reminding her she’d first have to make it out of the cave. She stifled an uneasy crimp in her gut and turned again to the stags. Could these majestic creatures help? But as she watched, she realized some were weaker than she felt herself.
Beyond the stags watching her with interest and wariness in their eyes, were others that appeared ill, lying upon the ground. Smears of shimmering gold, reminiscent of Vesper’s blood, coated the rocks close to them. They took turns resting their heads upon it.
A horrifying thought clawed through her: what if, by introducing sunshine to their world of ice and frost and warming their cave, she had harmed them? Yet the light seemed to strengthen them—it was why they each grappled for a spot beside the rocks. That must be why the healthier stags were eating her cocoon; the flowers shimmered with sunlight, as did every single blossom that now wound around the cave.
Following a hunch, Lyra began to pluck the ones closest to her, tossing them toward the sickliest of the herd. They stretched their necks, nibbling the petals, and one by one gathered strength enough to stand and totter closer to the supply. Once she’d made a sizable pile that the stags ate from contentedly, she gathered the lacewing cloak and saddlebag, then started toward the winding ledge alone. Three healthy stags stepped into her path, blocking her. Their stances weren’t threatening so much as determined. They meant to keep her there.
She shook her head. They didn’t understand that she’d left her kingdom in the hands of an imposter. That she didn’t know how much, if any, of her mind-speak had reached Vesper, if he’d heard what he meant to her. She dug through the saddlebag, in search of the dried apples and cheese she’d packed for their trip to rescue Crony, hoping to distract the gatekeepers with fruit. She’d only just cupped a handful of spongy bits when the stags began to bray. The entire herd turned their long lionlike tails to face her, circling a silhouette that appeared out of nowhere.
A familiar voice grumbled, though she couldn’t quite place it. Lyra dropped the apples into the bag and inched forward, straining for a glimpse through the line of antlers. At the sound of stomping feet, the newcomer came into view, rising in height to tower over the stags.
Dregs’s bulbous eyes spanned the cave before coming to rest on her. “Princess!”
Lyra clapped her hands over her mouth, too stunned to attempt asking how he arrived or if he’d seen Crony and Luce.