Pressing my lips together, I squeeze my eyes shut, desperate to stop giving away so much of my heart to this hunter. “I’m fighting for Nathaniel. That’s my only purpose now.” I grit my teeth. “As long as you believe that, then you don’t need to know anything else about me.”
Hagan leans back, a deep crease forming on his forehead. “You can’t expect me to believe that you’ll welcome your own death—”
“Yes,” I say, cutting him short. “That’s exactly what you need to believe.”
Before he can object, Treble rises above the haze, breaking through it into the clear sky beyond. The sun’s rays are soft with the new day’s light, the air crisp and clean.
Hagan throws an arm across his eyes with a pained shout. “Fuck, that’s bright!”
Sunlight has never been my friend, but even so, I welcome the clean air and the sense of space. The land below the haze in Fell feels so closed in.
Assuming Hagan lived his whole life beneath the vapor, he may have never seen or felt the full effect of the sun before. He squints, removing his arm a little. His eyes grow wide before he shuts them again.
His question is gruff. “Is that what the sky looks like?”
Around us, the soft azure blue air extends as far as we can see in every direction. It’s a beautiful, clear day. Only a few pristine clouds float higher above us.
“You’ve never seen the sky before?” I ask.
From what I’ve seen of Fell country so far, he would have had to step right up to the border to see clear sky. That would have been suicide, given the Border Guards’ ferocity. My brother, Evander, is never cruel, but he’s always vigilant about cutting down any Fell creature—any human—who steps out of the Misty Gallows.
Hagan’s response is a growled curse. I guess his pride is hurting now that he’s weakened by the light around us.
“I’ve never traveled farther north than the Misty Gallows,” he says. “I’ve heard that there is clear sky above the Spire. Along the southern coast, too, but I’ve never been to either of those places. Is it always this bright?”
My voice softens. “When you’re ready, take a look. It’s worth seeing. If you look hard enough, you might even be able to see some of the stars before the sun dominates the sky. Just don’t look directly at the sun itself.”
I inhale a calming breath, holding tightly to Nathaniel as we fly in silence for the next few minutes. It takes Hagan several tries before he can remove his arm from his eyes and study the sky. His gaze runs carefully from one side to the other, following the edges of the haze that forms a strange sort of misty horizon around us.
His lips part as he inhales more deeply than before, his chest filling before he coughs.
I watch him carefully as he inhales again. His pupils are increasingly small pinpricks in the bright light, abnormally unfocused.
I jolt toward him in alarm when he sways in his seat. “Hagan!”
His only answer is another cough.
The air must be affecting him. When Cyrian was trying to bribe his hunters to volunteer to challenge Nathaniel, he promised them the life of a champion—access to real sunlight, fresh air, and fresh food. Nathaniel spent much of his life above the haze in the castle. He had the chance to adapt to the environments both above and below the vapor, which would have allowed him to adjust much more quickly to Bright’s environment.
Not so for Hagan, who said he’s never seen the sky before. He must have regularly visited the throne room where I first met Cyrian, but while it’s located high enough to allow weak sunlight through, it’s still well within the haze.
“Don’t breathe too deeply,” I warn Hagan sharply. “You’re used to breathing polluted air. You’ll get dizzy—”
His expression turns blank a moment before he tips to the side.
“No!” My right hand darts out to grab his shirt, desperate to keep him upright.
A fall from this height means certain death.
I grapple to support Nathaniel with my left arm while I tug fiercely at Hagan’s shirt. The material is already torn. I nearly rip it off Hagan’s chest as I yank him toward me. His head drops onto Nathaniel’s shoulder with a heavy thud. Hagan’s eyes are closed and his arms are slack, folded up awkwardly against Nathaniel’s chest.
Dark stars! I’m using every muscle in my fatigued body to keep both men on the bird’s back. It would be hard enough with regular-sized men, but both Nathaniel and Hagan are heavy with muscle, taller than average. I can’t sustain my hold on both of them for longer than a minute. Maybe not even that long.
If Hagan falls, he could drag Nathaniel off with him.
“Treble,” I scream, tears of fright falling down my cheeks. “Take us down. Quickly!”
To my relief, Treble has already sensed the disturbance on his back. He angles downward, but not too sharply or Hagan will slip right over his head and take Nathaniel—and me—with him.
Treble plunges through the haze.
My heart lurches into my throat to see the Bitter Patch directly ahead. I need to travel farther west to find Mathilda’s home, but I can’t hold on to Hagan for that long. I have to land, revive Hagan, and then leave him behind so I can proceed on my own. I thought I could ask for his help with moving Nathaniel when we landed, but I’ll have to count on Mathilda’s magic instead…
Just as Treble soars toward the wheat field on the eastern side of the Bitter Patch, a whooshing sound meets my ears and my senses prickle.
Heightened alarm shoots through me a second before a silver projectile whistles past my left side. It glints and gleams, a deadly crossbow bolt. Its path is so accurate that it grazes my thigh. If it weren’t for my armor, it would have sliced through my muscles.
My breath halts before I scream. “Treble! Evade!”
Treble banks left. He’s agile and adept at evasion in the air, but he carries three people on his back, two of whom are unconscious. Sudden movements are incredibly dangerous right now.
A volley of bolts flies around us, dangerously close to cutting us down.
I try to locate their source, dismayed to find they’re coming from the direction of the Bitter Patch. If Nathaniel’s people are shooting at us, it must be because they consider Treble a threat—a thunderbird is a fae weapon. We’re too high for them to see that Nathaniel rides on his back.
But if Christiana came back here after Hagan freed her, then—surely—she should recognize Treble from last night. She knows that Treble is my bird.
Nathaniel warned me that every human would want to tear me apart if they found out who I am. Christiana made it clear last night that she doesn’t trust me. I just hope she has warned Nathaniel’s people that anyone who kills me will also die.
As Treble tilts, banking quickly to the right, I make out the row of human warriors cleverly camouflaged in their beige clothing within the wheat field that stretches across the distance up to the border of the Bitter Patch.
There are at least twenty of them, positioned close to the edge of the crimson and black plants, as hidden as they can be among the stalks of wheat while maintaining their proximity to the protection of the Patch. Nathaniel trained them well. Their aim is sure and true despite Treble’s evasive maneuvers. Another three bolts sail past Treble’s wing, nearly piercing his neck.