Page 23 of The Avowed
“What are you doing here?” she demands, looking from me to Zeph and back again.
“Wait,” Zeph calls out. “You can see her?”
Pigeon shoves forward, succumbing to the need to finish the challenge laid at Loa’s feet.
Iexplode into talons, feathers and fur, and find us once again in the tree covered room in Kestrel City. Pigeon’s large frame dwarfs the huge bed we were sleeping on, and she searches the space for Loa, a growl resonating from our chest. Bewilderment takes root in us as we scan the room and find nothing.
The iron doors slam open, and two large guards rush into the room, weapons drawn. They spot Pigeon on the bed and promptly start looking around for the threat. They look just as confused as we feel when they also turn up nothing. Pigeon turns the growl off, and suddenly all of her attention is focused on a large basket just outside our door.
I have no way of communicating that Pigeon and I just had a nightmare, so I wait for Pigeon to hand me back the reins and hope the guards put the pieces together themselves. After a minute or so, they relax.
“Sorry to burst in like that, milady, but we’ve been assigned to watch over you while the Syta and Altern are away,” the stocky platinum blond male guard explains. “My name is Sice, and this is Dri.” He motions to the tall female guard who’s still palming two swords and looking around as though she doesn’t quite trust that the coast is clear.
Pigeon turns to him, and I knock on her consciousness and ask for our body back so I can do things like ask him what he means. Pigeon ignores me, instead proving herself as useless as ever by turning back to the basket outside of our room. The male guard follows her focus and gives a little smile.
“These things were left for you, milady,” he announces, walking over to the huge basket and picking it up. Dri grabs another basket and pulls what looks like parchment from the back of her armored vest.
They both set everything on the low tree trunk table that’s at the center of all the gnarled wood and stone chairs in the right-hand corner of the room. Then they bow and leave, closing the doors behind them. Pigeon wastes no time soaring off the bed to shove the cover off the basket she’s been staring longingly at. I cringe when I discover that it’s filled with weird ferret beaver looking things with long scary tusks.
Pigeon doesn’t have the same qualms about them. She shoves her beak into the pile of dead animals and then throws her head back so she can scarf them down. I do my best to go to a happy place while she devours this rodent appetizer. After a couple of minutes, a thrum of happiness vibrates through me as Pigeon checks the basket for any unconsumed morsels. When she doesn’t find anything, she happily recedes, and we shrink back into my form.
I release a belch that a frat boy would be impressed by and rub at my chest.
“Those things better not give us heartburn, Pidge,”I scold.“Or the plague,”I add, pushing the now empty basket as far away from me as I can with the tips of my nails.
I eye the other basket—not sure I even want to know what’s in it—and check in on Pigeon, who appears to be settling in for a nice nap. Air fills my lungs as I inhale deeply,and I relax when I don’t pick up any concerning scents. I push the covering off and smile when I find a pile of duda fruit and a huge stack of these sweet rolls that I always stole by the handful in the Eyrie.
My arms shoot up to the sky in victory, and I shove a roll into my mouth. Thank fuck the Avowed enjoy some of the same foods the Hidden do. I stuff my cheeks like a chipmunk on the cusp of hibernation and reach for the parchment.
Treasured Flower,
I hope you’ll forgive my absence when you wake, but it could not be avoided. In circumstances other than war, I would be by your side. But alas, war calls, and just like you answered me, I must answer it. I won’t keep you waiting long. We will finalize everything just as it should be when I return. Until then, know I am thinking of you and doing everything in my power to shorten this unfortunate separation.
Treno
Iread the note a couple of times, unease settling deep in my bones.
War.
That one word alone knocks me off my axis and invites worry and uncertainty to roost in my chest. My dream interaction with Zeph slams to the forefront of my mind. The blaring alarms and Loa running in to announce that the Avowed are advancing.
Was that real?
I play back every detail in my mind, not sure how to look at any of it. I can’t decipher between what could be a lucky guess based on details my subconsciousness picked up somewhere, or maybe I’m a fucking psychic now. The stone and tree chair is cool and hard against my back as I sit down and break open a duda fruit on the corner of the table. I slurp its delicious juice and decide to pay closer attention to all of my dreams. Maybe there’s something going on there that I haven’t been paying attention to.
* * *
“What do you mean, you can’t find it?” I demand, irritated by Purt’s curt bullshit.
I look around to see if there’s another less pissy Archivist who might be more willing to help, but surprisingly, I spot no one. I’ve spent several weeks now on futile census scanning. Treno is still gone, and I haven’t had any more interesting dreams that needed to be analyzed. Basically, I’m going a little stir crazy. I even looked for Ryn the other day, but apparently he’s off with the others, not that he would have been any help with anything anyway.
“Exactly what I said,” Purt states irritably, pulling me from my thoughts.
Sice clears his throat in an obvious warning. Purt glances over at the guard and receives a look that has him dropping some of his attitude.
“The writings you requested have not been located at this time. The archivists there are looking for them, but it’s not unheard of for books to get filed incorrectly or for a royal to ask to look at something without it being recorded. When it’s located, it will be brought over for you,” he finishes.
I eye him for a moment and then release a resigned huff and nod.
