Elliot realized she didn’t know it was him. “Expecting someone else?” he asked in amusement, and her puzzled expression cleared.
“Elliot!” she said, and he didn’t miss the delight on her face. It made his stomach twist with a strange mix of emotion, both happiness and loss. It must be something to do with Riella again—no one except her ever lit up when they saw him. “I thought it was Petyr,” she muttered. “Can’t tell talons from tails.”
Elliot chuckled, scrubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “I was hoping to catch Ersken—is he still awake?”
Sparrow snorted. “Old man never sleeps, no matter how much I tell him he needs his rest.”
Elliot grinned—he couldn’t help it. “Do you call him ‘old man’ when you do it?” he asked.
Sparrow shrugged. “What else am I gonna call him? He’s no fresh hatchling.”
“That might have something to do with it,” he said dryly, but Sparrow was already moving. As she stepped through the pools of brazier light, he caught the darting tail of a cat winding its way through the phoenixes and leading the way to Ersken’s workroom.
Inside, while Sparrow fed the cat from a bowl on Ersken’s table, Elliot asked about phoenix mental health.
“ ’Scuse me?” Ersken said, raising his bushy eyebrows.
“Ever since the attack on the Eyrie, I’ve noticed that Xane… he hasn’t been the same. And I thought it might be because of his mother. Did you…? Do you know much about Xolanthe?”
Ersken cocked his head, squinting slightly. “What do you mean?”
Elliot shrugged, watching as Sparrow went about her business—though he knew she was listening. “I thought… maybe you could tell Xane about his mother—about Xoe. What she was like.” He paused, searching for the right words. “I’m not sure he knows how to grieve for her when he hardly knew her. Maybe if he knows what she was like, if she was happy…”
Ersken’s curious expression turned wary. “I won’t lie to him. His mother was in a cage, and she died in a battle.”
“I know,” Elliot hastened to say. “But, well… I know you were fond of her. There has to be a reason for that. And even though she died fighting… she chose that, at least. And from what I hear, if it weren’t for her…”
“I doubt you and I’d be here talkin’ about her.” He huffed a breath, and his gaze flicked to the table where Sparrow stood. It was covered with an assortment of knickknacks, including a handful of vivid red phoenix feathers. One of them was tipped in brilliant, iridescent purple. Could it be Xoe’s?
Ersken’s attention shifted back to Elliot. “I’ll try.”
Together, Ersken, Elliot, and Sparrow made their way to the top of the Eyrie, where the adult phoenixes roosted.
It wasn’t hard to find Xane, alone on a ledge outside Latham’s door. Jax was nearby, sensing Elliot’s approach, but he too was alone. The other phoenixes avoided Jax just as their bondmates avoided Elliot, and that isolation was on display now as the rest of the phoenixes bunched together the same way the hatchlings did.
As they neared Xane, Ersken stuck out a hand, telling Elliot and Sparrow to hang back—though of course Sparrow didn’t see it. Elliot tugged her tunic, pulling her aside as Ersken edged warily forward.
Xane straightened, shaking out his wings, but the challenging squawk died in his throat as his eyes landed on the feather in Ersken’s outstretched hand.
Footsteps sounded, and Latham’s door was wrenched open—no doubt he could sense his bondmate’s curiosity or distress. Latham was half-dressed, tugging on his tunic as he stepped onto the walkway.
“What do you think—” he started. He too stopped when his eyes fell on the phoenix feather. Latham’s scowling expression shifted, landing on Ersken. Then he turned and spotted Elliot and Sparrow standing on the other side of the doorway.
Ersken indicated that Elliot should deal with Latham, then turned his attention back to Xane, taking a seat next to the phoenix and laying the feather between them.
“What is he…?” Latham began, and Elliot drew his attention.
“That was Xoe’s,” Elliot said softly, so as not to disturb Ersken and Xane. As it was, all he could hear was the low rumble of Ersken’s voice, while Xane blinked at him, bright and curious.
Latham turned on him, his expression accusatory.
“I thought… I asked Ersken if he’d bring it to Xane,” Elliot continued. It felt a bit self-serving to claim credit for the work Ersken was doing, but if it backfired—and there was still a chance it would—Elliot wanted the blame to land squarely on him. “And if he’d talk about her.”
“Talk about her?” Latham repeated flatly. His eyes were dark shadows, the moon above providing only the barest illumination.
“About Xoe. Ersken knew her best… knew her better than Xane, and I thought…” Elliot paused, looking around Latham to where Ersken sat. Xane had settled down again, listening avidly to what Ersken said, gaze fixed on the feather. “I thought Xane should know what she was like. I thought it might make it easier to… let go.”
Latham took an angry step toward Elliot, who reached back for Sparrow, pressing her protectively behind him. But before Latham could do more than grip the front of Elliot’s tunic, a low croon sounded from Xane. Latham whirled around, staring at his phoenix. Then he glanced back at Elliot, releasing his grip. They were close enough now that Elliot could see the haunted, slightly desperate look in Latham’s eyes…. It was something close to hope.
“I think he wants you to hear this too,” Ersken called out. Latham started nodding, then turned away from Elliot and came to sit next to his phoenix. They leaned together, both staring at that single shining feather, and the gentle murmur of Ersken’s voice filled the silence once more.
Remembering his lesson from earlier, Elliot withdrew his arm from where it was still pressed against Sparrow. “Sorry,” he whispered. Luckily her cat friend hadn’t joined them, else they might have gotten tripped up in the scuffle with Latham. As it was, only the bluebird remained, perched atop her head. “We should go.”
Elliot turned and walked along the dark ledge toward the archway that led out into the stronghold, Sparrow behind him. There he paused, looking back at the small group.
“I hope…,” he began, then hesitated. What did he hope? That he’d done the right thing? That he’d made things better and not worse? He glanced down at Sparrow, who was stroking the bluebird’s feathers and waiting patiently for him to continue. “I thought it would be better than not knowing,” Elliot said at last. “This way they can grieve properly.”
“Grieve properly,” Sparrow repeated thoughtfully. “I had a family, you know,” she said matter-of-factly. “Two brothers and two sisters. I was the oldest, but I couldn’t work in the shop”—she pointed at her eyes—“so they couldn’t keep me. Gave me to Miseriya to be an acolyte, but I hated being inside all the time,” she said with a shudder. “I ran away. Didn’t know where I was… didn’t know how to get back home. If…” She hesitated, picking at a knot in the wood of her spear. “If I could know more, if I could remember, I would. Even if it hurt—I would want to know. I think what you did… I think it was very kind.”