I wait for the torture to ebb. For some reason, I know that it will, and that alone is keeping me from giving up and just saying fuck it. Am I dead? Because if I am, it sure does hurt, and it’s noisy as hell too. I focus on the angry voices swimming around me and try to make sense of everything going on.
“Why did you bring him here?” a deep menacing voice snarls.
“I had no choice, he’s her mate now too,” the other, normally smooth voice bites back.
“And how did you let that happen?”
“How did I let that happen? How did I let that happen!” Ryn roars. “I should rip you apart right now. How I ever listened to anything you had to say is beyond my understanding. You forced her to leave. You knew she wouldn’t be safe, and you did it anyway! I didn’t let this happen. You did!”
“Watch yourself. I am still your Syta!” Zeph barks.
The laugh that fills the void all around me sounds manic and angry. If every inch of me wasn’t currently frostbitten and hurting, that laugh would give me the chills.
“My Syta? You’re Syta of nothing. You were so busy looking for outside threats that neither one of us saw the one sitting right beneath our noses. We have no idea what damage my sister did to the Hidden. We don’t have the slightest clue what she told him, but if it was one word shy of everything, I’d be surprised. We have no chance against the Avowed now. They’ll know the entirety of what we’ve been planning. Lazza will be ready for every move we ever thought to make.”
“So we’ll start over,” Zeph states simply.
“Not with me, you won’t,” Ryn declares evenly.
“What does that mean? You’d walk away from everything we’ve worked for...for some female?” Zeph demands, his tone seething.
“Not for some female, for my mate. I listened to you and your poisonous thoughts about who she was and who she might be. I let your issues cloud the truth.”
“And what truth is that?” Zeph bites back.
“That it doesn’t matter who she is, was, or what she could be, she’s mine. I’m not going to waste another breath pretending otherwise.”
“She could be the solution to all of this. Are you saying you won’t do what needs to be done if the time comes?”
“I’m saying it’s more complicated than that,” Ryn growls. “We called, she answered. I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t matter, that she doesn’t matter.”
I blink and suddenly, instead of blackness all around me, I can picture Ryn and Zeph perfectly. We’re in some kind of cave. It’s huge, and there’s a massive fire in the middle of it. I can see the legs of a body on the far side of the fire, and my heart slams in my chest as Treno’s name pounds in my head.
Zeph stands, his massive wings folded against his back, blood dripping steadily from a gash on his side. His honey eyes watch Ryn like he’s still deciding if he wants to rip him apart. His demeanor doesn’t shock me. The sky shadow pretty much always looks like that, but there’s an undercurrent of defeat and rage that normally isn’t there.
Ryn on the other hand looks downright terrifying. The normally easygoing and snarky gryphon wears a solid mask of betrayal and rage. I’ve never seen him look this pissed, and I just watched him find out that his sister sold him out. Not even that induced this level of anger. I can feel the phantom of a wall against my back, and I realize that I’m watching all of this from the deep shadows of whatever cave we’re in.
I question for a moment if this is real. I shouldn’t be up and spying given what just happened to me, but then I remember the weird dreams I’ve been having with Zeph. This feels like one of those. Just as that thought flickers through my mind, Zeph’s honey gaze snaps to my shadow shrouded hiding place.
“She’s here,” he announces quietly, his tone vacillating between shock and confusion.
Ryn steps more into the light and follows Zeph’s focused gaze. He looks like shit. Half his face is swollen, tight and shiny and mottled with black and purple bruises. He’s bleeding from a cut on his head, and small rivers of blood break up the black and purple landscape of his face. His hair is matted and dirty, his clothes torn, tattered, and stained with red streaks and splotches. I can’t tell if it’s his blood or someone else’s. It’s probably a combination of both, but I’m completely shocked by the state he’s in. How is he up and walking?
I notice he’s holding one arm close to his chest as he looks from the shadows I’m standing in to Zeph. And he has a pink line across his throat like something scratched him there. I look over to Zeph to see the same mark on his neck.
“Who’s here?” Ryn asks warily, like he’s not sure he wants the answer.
“Our little sparrow.”
Zeph’s nickname for me drips off his full lips, and confusion flickers through Ryn’s battered face. His head snaps to a place on the other side of the fire that I can’t see.
“She’s still out,” he observes, his gray gaze moving back to Zeph and then once again to me in the corner where Zeph’s still staring.
Can Ryn not see me?
I step out of the darkness, and Ryn’s widening panic-filled eyes answer that question.
“What is going on?” he demands, looking from me to the other me that I’m assuming is lying on the other side of the fire. Terror floods Ryn’s features, and he scrambles toward my body. “No no no no no no no,” he chants. “She can’t be dead. Falon, you are not allowed to die,” he yells at me, and if his tone wasn’t so heart-wrenching, it would be funny and irritating
