Eliana looked up as the woman stretched to her full, translucent height—eight feet, at least. Her elongated limbs reminded Eliana uncomfortably of a spider.
“I am Zahra,” the woman said, “and I am a wraith. And you are Eliana Ferracora, the Dread of Orline, the last of House Courverie, daughter of the Lightbringer, heir to the throne of Saint Katell, the true queen of Celdaria, and…” Zahra spread her long arms wide. Her dark smile was full of joy. “You are the One Who Rises. The Furyborn Child. You are the Sun Queen, Eliana, and I have come to bring you home.”
37
Rielle
“Katell’s writings show that, out of all the godsbeasts, she most favored the chavaile. Perhaps due to its similarity to the white mare that carried her into battle against the angels. Perhaps because its wings reminded her of her beloved Aryava and brought her comfort after his death.”
—A Chronicle of the Godsbeasts by Raliquand d’Orseau, First Guild of Scholars
The chavaile did not stop until Rielle began to heave on its back.
They touched down on a small rocky cliff dotted with stubby tufts of grass and sheltered by boulders as big around as King Bastien’s carriage. Rielle slid to the ground and managed to crawl a few paces away before violently emptying her stomach.
After, hollowed out, she dragged herself toward the rocks, seeking shelter from the wind. Every movement sent shocks of pain through her body. The poison had done fine work; she felt as though she’d been hammered up and down every muscle and bone. She hoped she had gotten it all out—and not too late.
Then, lumbering hoofbeats approached.
She looked up. The chavaile had crept close. Bigger even than her father’s largest warhorses, with an elegant arched neck, a long unkempt black mane, and bright, intelligent eyes, it behaved like a horse—and yet it did not. Its nostrils flared as it sniffed the air around her; its ears pricked forward curiously.
But then it cocked its head to the side, as a human might when trying to understand something new. There was an ancient weight to its presence that Rielle had felt surrounding no other living creature.
“Hello.” She reached out feebly with one shaking arm. “You’ve always been my favorite.”
A sharp blast of mountain wind slammed into her. She collapsed, shivering.
Beyond her closed eyelids, the light shifted. Then, at the sound of movement, she opened her eyes and watched blearily as the chavaile lowered itself to the ground between her body and the open sky. It extended one of its enormous feathered wings—it must have been at least twenty feet long—and gently scooped her close to its body.
Wedged between a shell of gray, black-tipped feathers and the warm swell of the chavaile’s belly, Rielle breathed. The beast’s coat was impossibly soft, speckled gray as a storming sky.
“Are you real?” she whispered, placing her hand against its stomach. “Where did you come from?”
In response, the chavaile settled its wing more securely around Rielle’s body, then tucked its head underneath its wing. Rielle felt the hot press of its muzzle against her back, followed by a warm breath of air as it let out a contented grunt.
It was a strange nest, but too cozy to resist; Rielle fell into a fitful half sleep. Her shapeless dreams burned black.
? ? ?
When she woke, her mind was clear and the chavaile was watching her.
So. She hadn’t been hallucinating.
She remained still, comfortable and warm beneath the canopy of its wing, and stared up at it.
“I thought all the godsbeasts were dead,” she said at last. Hesitant, she placed her hand on the chavaile’s muzzle. “Why did you save me?”
Its nostrils flared hot between her fingers. She stroked the long, flat plane of its face, the swirling tufts of hair between its wide black eyes.
“I wonder if you have a name.”
The chavaile whickered softly and pushed its nose into Rielle’s palm.
“Well,” she said, beaming, “then I’ll have to give you one.”
And that was when she remembered:
That thin voice, right before she’d fallen. No, not fallen. Right before she’d been pushed.
She remembered it now, and she knew to whom it belonged.
“Will you take me home?” she asked. “I need to kill a man.”
The chavaile watched her, motionless.
“It’s all right,” she added quickly. “He deserves it. He tried to kill me.”
The chavaile grunted and rose to its feet. The chill hit Rielle hard, but she ignored it, climbed up a boulder with teeth chattering, and slipped onto the chavaile’s back.