The castle sat right on the edge of the isle, teetering on the precipice. Half of the scene glittered in the light of the oil lanterns scattered among the houses, while the other half sparkled under the stars. Lyana, of course, had wanted to take a flying leap over the rails to explore her new home, but Cassi grabbed her foot at the last second to keep her grounded—reminding her enthusiastic friend that perhaps the prince would want to introduce her to his people himself. Lyana had wilted, a flower ripped away from the sun, but had relented before Cassi’s logic. Being reminded of the prince, however, had only given Lyana a new source of conversation. Cassi had obliged, fighting to keep her eyes open but eventually succumbed to fatigue.
She woke a few hours later to blissful silence.
Her back ached from falling asleep curled in a chair. Her wings were sore from draping over the arms at odd angles. But she was somewhat rested, relatively alert, and more importantly, Lyana was out cold in her bed, which meant Cassi’s real work could begin.
She closed her eyes again, and awoke as the dreamwalker.
A twinge of guilt pinched her as she glided across the room, through the curtains, and into the open air above the castle, leaving Lyana behind. Had this morning been her first time in the House of Whispers, Cassi probably would have been just as enthused as her friend, just as talkative, just as amazed. Instead, she’d been guarding her tongue, worn out by the secrets as she tried her best to respond without revealing that she had seen these trees and these mountains and this city many times before. That the wonder had long since faded, replaced with grim determination, which was what stirred in her veins now.
Cassi dove through the mist, returning to the floating city where her king had been stationed the night before. His ship was still there, majestic and towering, and she made her way quickly inside, too run down to linger. Within moments, she was in his dream, weaving the image to her will and meeting his stormy eyes.
“Thank you for coming back so soon, Kasiandra.”
Cassi just nodded, mouth too dry for words, because she knew what was coming. It had been all she could think about during the long flight to the House of Whispers, with nothing to distract her but clear blue and dull gray, and a mind too imaginative for its own good.
The creases at the corners of her king’s eyes deepened for a moment as he took note of her solemn mood, but as always, he moved past it and on to business. “I’ve decided on a course of action for the invinci.”
She nodded again.
This time, her throat constricted. As her king continued to outline his plan, a flame in her chest stretched out to her fingers and down to her toes, making her numb and incandescent all at once. Protests stirred in her stomach, but none reached her lips. The longer they festered, the more nauseous she became. Sick and ill. Disgusted and ashamed. As though each order he gave chipped away at her, bit by bit, until she was worried that by the end of it, there would be nothing left—of Cassi, of Kasiandra, of either.
But she could do this one final thing.
Especially when it might help save them all.
“We’re depending on you, Kasiandra,” he concluded softly, placing his hand, heavy yet reassuring, on her shoulder—as though maybe, just maybe, he understood the weight of what he was asking. Her rubbed his thumb over the edge of her collarbone before dropping his arm. Her body leaned forward, chasing his touch.
Malek…
The word danced across her mind before she could stop it, control it, remember who he was. My king. My king. My king. Thinking of him as anything else was too painful.
Cassi straightened her back. “I won’t let you down, my liege.”
The dream dissolved.
Though normally she liked to linger in his rooms, her spirit couldn’t wait to fly away—from his words, from his commands, from his all-too-knowing gaze. Cassi raced back into the fog, losing herself in the impenetrable mist, not pausing until the lights of the floating city had disappeared behind her and all she could hear was the thunder of the ocean instead of the thunder of her dreaming-heart, pounding and pounding with all the words she didn’t have the strength to say. No. No. No. She pushed the king from her thoughts and focused on the one good thing he’d requested she do—make a quick stop to see her mother.
Cassi was three when her magic made itself known. In a world of endless ocean and fog, resources were scarce and magic scarcer still. Everyone who had the gift was handed over to the crown to provide whatever service needed, and in Cassi’s case, with her very rare, very specialized magic, that service had been subterfuge. Within a month of discovering her dreamwalking, she’d been ripped from her mother’s arms, smuggled to the floating isle above, and deposited in a frozen tundra to be discovered by a troop of doves on their daily patrol. She hadn’t seen her mother since, not in flesh and blood, the way that truly counted. But she’d never forgotten the scent of her mother’s soul—salty air mixed with sugary-sweet magic and the slightest smoky burn of time spent chasing dragons.
Cassi used that to find her through the mist.
The ship wasn’t far, and she came upon it fast, slipping through the wooden boards, floating into the captain’s room, where a woman slept. Her tawny skin was etched with wrinkles and her brown hair streaked with gray, though the colorful fabric twisted around her curls made it difficult to tell.
Captain Audezia’d’Rokaro.
Her mother.
She slept curled on her side in trousers and a loose shirt. A pair of worn leather boots stood by the bed. A black overcoat, roughly sewn yet warm and sturdy, hung from a post. But Cassi’s eyes went straight to the singular deep-brown wing with spots of white folded against her mother’s back. In the darkness of the cabin, it looked dull and muddy, but in the light of the sun, it was a dazzling copper. Once upon a time, in a different life, her mother had belonged to the House of Prey. But she’d been tossed over the edge when they discovered her magic, becoming one of the lucky few to survive the long fall to the world below.
Cassi pressed her palm to her mother’s brow and dove into her dream, fighting the torrent as she warped the image to one of her own making. An endless grassy field. A cloudless blue sky. A sun shining brightly. And by her side, a hawk appeared with two perfect wings and frosty eyes that reminded her of the moon.
“Kasiandra.”
“Mother.”
They didn’t embrace or gush or wilt at the sight of one another. Her mother had led a tough life, one that didn’t lend itself to histrionic displays of affection. She was a hunter, not a lover. But the warmth in her tone was enough for Cassi. In fact, it was everything.
“The king has a job for you,” Cassi said, getting straight to the point.
Her mother shifted her stance, feet spreading wide, hands clasping behind her back, gaze searching the horizon—a sailor through and through. “And?”
Cassi's words tumbled out in a cascade, faster than she could control, but it was the only way—one quick shot. As she spoke, her mother’s eyes darkened a shade, flickering with old demons, and a muscle worked in her cheek as if she were biting back memories. Her lips, though, remained a thin, determined line. The fortitude in her gave Cassi hope, because if her mother could endure this, Cassi would too. For the sake of them all.
In the quiet following her words, her mother sighed, closing her eyes for a brief yet long moment. When she opened them, all the shadows were gone. She turned to her daughter, expression soft with sympathy. “Is that all?”