"I'll handle the dragon," Jacinta said icily.
"You sure you don’t want help?" Archer asked, a taunting current laced through the words.
She slid her gaze toward him, as though expelling any more energy than that would be a waste. "I'm the king's head ferro'kine for a reason."
"Let me guess," Brighty cut in. "Your charming personality?"
"Just stay out of my way."
Captain glared at Brighty and shoved Archer toward the warehouse. Clearly, there was a backstory here Rafe wasn't privy to, though Pyro didn’t seem to have the same reservations. She looped her arm through Isaak's and held up her other hand as red magic sparked along her fingertips. An orange ball hurtled over the side of the ship and raced across the darkness to land in her palm. The fire expanded until it encased most of her bare arm, stopping just short of her sleeve. The older man offered her a friendly look as he dipped his fingers into the flames and pulled a burning ember free, bringing a matching glow to his palm.
The final mage had already walked away, leaving Rafe no clue as to what her magic might be. With a shrug, he followed Archer, Brighty, and Captain toward the warehouse, then helped them pull open the massive wooden doors. Inside, Brighty sent a dozen ivory flares across the room, leaving the mage light suspended in the air to illuminate the space, though the effort was hardly worth it. No one was there—no king, no other mages, nothing at all, except for a few unopened crates piled in the corners. Where was he?
By the time Rafe glanced back at the doors, the dragon was already halfway there, its body floating on a wave of evergreen magic, carried aloft by the metal binds. He forced himself to watch even as a hollowness grew inside his heart. Despite their fears, they had no trouble moving the beast inside. In just a few minutes, Jacinta was done. The dragon didn’t fight, didn’t struggle. Its enormous chest just rose with resigned breath, the dust along the floor kicking up before its nostrils. The molten heat churning within its veins did little more than cast a fiery glow upon the four walls and roof now encasing it. Pyro almost looked disappointed. The enthusiasm in her eyes dampened along with the flames at her fingers, and she dropped her arm down by her side.
"That's it?" Brighty asked. "I mean, it’s a little anticlimactic."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Archer commented.
"Pyro, back me up."
"Enough," Captain cut in. "The king has his dragon. Tell him my crew and I are taking a few days to regroup. I think we've earned it."
With those words, a warm thrill shot down Rafe's chest as anticipation swarmed like a hive of bees through his veins, making his skin buzz. He'd done it. He'd actually done it. He'd brought the king a dragon, and now it was the king's turn to make good on his end of the deal.
"What about my wings?" Rafe asked. My wings. My wings! "Where's the king?"
"He wanted to be here to fulfill his end of the bargain, but urgent matters intervened," Jacinta said. "He's expecting you at the castle. There's a boat waiting out back. If you'll follow Nyomi, she'll take you." The ferro'kine jutted her chin toward the other woman, who stood waiting by a door. "To the rest of you, it's been a pleasure."
That final word sounded as though it had been torn from her throat by force. Archer laughed softly as she walked away, while Brighty wrinkled her nose. Rafe turned toward the captain, a knot in his throat that hadn’t been there a moment before. He had only just realized this was goodbye. What would he say to her? How could he thank her?
"Captain Rokaro, I—"
"Save it," she said, holding up her hand. "I'm too tired and too cranky for this right now. We'll be docked for a few days. Come to the ship before you leave so everyone can gawk at you. I think they'd enjoy seeing a person fly. I know I would."
Relief flooded through him. His entire life had been one massive goodbye. He wasn't ready for another quite yet. Instead, he grinned. "Aye, aye, Captain."
"Archer, Pyro, with me. Brighty, we won't wait long."
As they walked off, Brighty clutched his arm and yanked him down so she could whisper in his ear. "I don't like this."
"Do you like anything?"
"I mean it, Rafe. I have a bad feeling about this." She relaxed her grip just enough to stare imploringly into his eyes. That alone should have made him pause, but it didn’t. All Rafe could think about were his wings, and the sky, and putting this one broken piece of himself back together. "Why didn’t the king come himself? And don't tell me you believe some crap about an urgent matter. Why isn’t he here like he said he'd be? And why do you have to go to him? Why won't he come to you?"
"Do you really think he ever goes to anyone? I only met him once, but he didn’t seem the type."
"That's beside the point," she grumbled, her pleading expression turning to a glare. "The point is, I know you like to act first and think later, but maybe, just this once, use your head. Why is the king doing this? Why? He always has ulterior motives, Rafe—always."
"I know, Brighty," he said as he gently disentangled her fingers from his jacket. A longing no one of this world could ever understand filled him as he caught sight of the captain's caramel feathers. He was a bird. It was who he was, who he'd always be, and the sky was calling. "I know, and I don't care. I need my wings. I need them. I'll deal with the rest later."
Brighty squeezed his hands, words hovering on her lips and clogging her throat, the need to say them dancing across her opal eyes. She was worried, and she hated it, which was why, in the end, she dropped her arms and let him go. "Fine. But don't say I didn’t warn you."
"Cheer up," he teased. "You're almost free of me."
"Ain't that the truth." She rolled her eyes and pushed him away. "Go, you big oaf. But you better come say goodbye, or I'll hunt you down. I don't care if you can fly. I'll find you."
He pressed a hand to his chest. "I'm honored."
"Just go."
A laugh was on his lips as he ran across the room to where Nyomi waited, holding the door open as he approached. He was still smiling as she led him down a dark hall and then back outside, where the mist welcomed him like an old friend. The smile faded the second he realized there was no boat waiting on the waves.
"Hey—"
Salt water slammed into his face, cutting off the question as it drove him stumbling back. The pressure was relentless. Liquid clung to his arms and legs, wrapping around his body. No matter how hard he fought, he couldn't break free of the current. Lost in the maelstrom, he fell back, only to be caught by another surging wave. He rolled with the flood, weightless and directionless, tumbling in the river, until his back crashed into something hard.
All at once, the water released him and he dropped, feeling rough planks beneath his hands as he fought to stand. The creak of a door closing drew his attention, and he spun just in time to see the last bit of light disappear, leaving him in darkness. Rafe ran to the door, searching for a knob, but it was smooth, without even a scratch into which to dig his nails.
"What is this?" he screamed. "What are you doing? Where's the king?"