Then comprehension struck.
The lack of bird demons in the city today. The awkward exchange between Nitta and Lova earlier when Nitta said how hard Merrin had worked to put out the fires—because, she realized now, he’d had to do it from the sky alone. And of course, that awful exchange between her and Qanna the night of the battle. Words Wren wished she could forget.
You’re a monster, you’re just as bad as him! You killed my sister!
Something—someone—had slammed into them after Qanna had thrown that damning sentence at her, had explained how she’d worked it out.
He might be abhorrent, but at least the King claims the blood he spills!
“Lady Dunya,” Wren breathed.
That’s who had collided with them. She’d probably come to help Wren.
Ketai’s expression confirmed it. “That,” he said slowly, each word a cold, brutal slap, “was a secret that should never have gotten out. How did it happen, Wren? How did you let this happen?”
“They’ve gone?” she said. “All of them?”
“One remained. Some Steel girl. Khuen convinced her, apparently. But yes. The others left.”
“To go where?”
“We don’t know.”
Wren struggled for breath. If Lady Dunya heard what Qanna had said, then…
“They must have gone with Qanna,” she choked out. “To the Hidden Palace.”
“Qanna is dead,” Lova said. “I killed her,” she went on matter-of-factly as Wren turned her wide eyes on her. “On the rooftop. I arrived with that shaman just as you fell. Qanna was arguing with her mother, asking her how it felt to be working for a traitor, the Paper that murdered her own daughter. They were flying low enough for me to reach. I managed to catch Qanna and drag her down. I only wanted to stop her from saying anything more to her mother, but she fought me. She was strong—impressively so. She’d have killed me if I hadn’t done so first.”
“What did Lady Dunya do?” Wren asked.
Lova jerked her head in Merrin’s direction. “Ask him. He fought her.”
Merrin’s owl eyes were full of sorrow. “I had to,” he said, sounding pained. “She’d have attacked all of us if not. I saw it on her face. She knew Qanna spoke the truth, even if she didn’t want to believe it.” His feathered arms hung limp at his sides. “Lady Dunya was always fair. She saw the best in people. We let her down.”
“You killed her?” Wren whispered.
Merrin shook his head. “She was injured. I managed to hold her off long enough to force her to retreat. The fight was mostly over by then. Everyone was busy tending to the wounded. I think the other White Wing assumed Lady Dunya was moving them somewhere as part of our plans, but I suppose she’s told them the truth about Eolah. It would explain why they haven’t returned.”
“That leaves us with two bird demons,” Ketai declared. “Two, when we are mere days away from facing the most difficult battle of our lives. Where the use of bird demons was integral to our plans. Bird demons who also happen to carry invaluable information as to said plans—with a compelling reason to betray that information to our enemies.”
He spoke with barely restrained fury.
“Maybe…” Nitta began, “maybe Merrin and the hawk-girl can find them, persuade them to come back.” But she didn’t sound convinced, and none of them responded.
They all knew the truth. Lady Dunya and the White Wing loyalists wouldn’t be returning. They’d be lucky if they hadn’t gone straight to the Hidden Palace with the Hannos’ strategy for the upcoming siege.
“Go back to the Orchid Hall,” her father shot at Wren, already marching away. “Let the shamans finish their healing. We leave first thing tomorrow. Try not to ruin anything more until then.”
“How dare you talk to her like that!” Lova growled. “Wren has given her life to you, sacrificed everything important to her, and this is how you treat her?”
Ketai didn’t falter. “Wren understands her duty.”
Her duty.
Xia. Hanno. She’d inherited the responsibilities of two clans, and for the first in her life Wren felt truly ashamed of it. Both clans were tainted in blood and death.
While Lova continued to insult Ketai—and he continued to ignore her—something fluttered past Wren’s face. It was a sheet of paper. She was about to pick it up when another fell.
In moments, the sky was full of them: colorful sheets of crimson, black, and gold drifting down from where, high overhead, a trio of bird demons flew, releasing the pamphlets as they went.
There were shouts. Nearby soldiers sprang into action. Merrin leaped into the air, shooting so fast toward the demons he was a gray-white blur. Cries rose up as residents ran for shelter, mourning families scattering from the square.
Ketai snatched a poster from the air and scanned it in one grim look. “Do not panic!” he called. “This is merely more of the court’s propaganda. It is no attack!”
Wren, who’d grabbed one of the sheets for herself, thought how wrong her father was—because what was splashed across the paper in her trembling hand felt exactly like an attack.
It felt like being stabbed in the heart.
Her knees shook, but she didn’t fall. As if from underwater, she heard her father shouting instructions and reassurances. She heard Nitta’s gasp as the leopard-girl finally got hold of one of the posters for herself. She sensed movement nearby, then a hand on her shoulder.
“Honey,” Lova started—
Which was all it took for Wren to explode.
Magic burst from her in such a fearsome blast Lova was knocked off her feet. Nitta ducked low against Panda’s neck. Even Ketai’s voice cut off as the icy gust slammed into him.
He swirled, robes whipping in the furious flurry of Wren’s power. Nearby Papers and demons gaped in awe. The falling pamphlets whirled around her, wreathing her in scarlet and glinting gold.
“Wren!” her father roared. “Control yourself, for gods’ sake!”
“That,” Wren said, her Xia-state voice echoing, “is all I’ve been doing. And I have had enough.”
Every inch of her was agony. A wild, animal pain that threatened to rip her apart. But her magic didn’t waver. It roared, charged by each dark beat of her heart, the flashes of red, black, and gold as the court’s posters continued to rain down.
Ever since she’d lost Lei, Wren wondered at the next time she’d see her. Not in a dream, but touchable, present. She’d imagined a million scenarios, but not this.
Never this.
Lei’s face stared at her from every poster. The artist had detailed the slow arch of her eyebrows perfectly; her slender lips; the soft curve of her cheeks and jaw. Yet it was her eyes that had been captured best.
Golden. Bright. Bold. Burning.
The artist had re-created the King’s appearance just as accurately. His face loomed from behind Lei, arctic stare piercing Wren straight to the core.