In my part of the world, in Highbell and even in Fifth Kingdom, the sun never could break through those frozen clouds. Never could compete with its blizzards and sleet. So as we fly through the night, I bask in the warming air, feeling like a layer of perpetual frost is slowly melting away from me.
When I’m nearly lulled to sleep by its balmy comfort, I feel Slade lean down against my left cheek. “We’re here.”
My breath catches in my throat, and I turn around to ask him how he knows, when Argo suddenly lets out a loud call that knocks me back. Slade’s arm tightens around my middle, hand splaying over my stomach. “Hold on.”
I might’ve gotten a bit used to flying on Argo’s back, but his landing dives are another thing entirely.
My hands grip the saddle strap in front of me, thighs locking around the beast just as it points its nose at the ground and starts to drop. A scream threatens to spew from my mouth, but I manage to grapple it in my throat.
The dive sends my braid whipping backwards and air streaming against my face, making it almost impossible to keep my eyes open. Slade holds me firmly against him as we start to plummet past the clouds.
My stomach lurches, feeling like the rest of my body is dropping without it, while Argo’s body streams down, down, down, a coat of condensation streaming off his feathers like backwards rain.
And then, just when I think I might actually vomit from the speed of this nosedive, Argo tips up his body and lets out his massive wings. A rush of air sucks into my lungs as our descent goes from breakneck to surprisingly gentle.
Regaining my equilibrium, I take another shaky breath, just as Slade’s lips are once again at my ear. “Look, Auren.”
My eyes peel open to the dark.
And I see…
The ground is dark. Not glowing white from the moon and the snow. No snow. There’s not so much as a flake of it anywhere in sight. And just that, just that, is enough to make my eyes go wide. But then, my gaze truly takes in what I’m seeing.
There are rivers everywhere. As far as I can see, their streams are glittering below like roots stretching out from an ancient tree. They arc and bend, sparkling surfaces reflecting the lights that seem to be sewn into their twisting hems.
In the night, I can only see the shadowed contours of buildings and walls, but lights are peppered throughout the city, giving off this effervescent feel amidst the shimmering water.
The other timberwings drop down to fly at our sides, and Slade lifts a finger, pointing ahead. I lift my gaze from the ground to follow the direction he’s indicating, and my mouth drops open.
There’s a massive mountain just ahead, so large that I can’t truly take in its scope until the light of day. But right at the base of it sits Fourth Kingdom’s castle.
It’s dark, even despite the way its windows glow with light from within, and more lights litter the pinnacles and parapets. There are pointed turrets at the top, and notches of vertical grooves in its high, smooth walls. Yet instead of ramparts or outer defensive walls around it, there’s a massive moat that surrounds it. With the moat at its sides and front, plus the mountain at its back, it looks more like a fortress than a castle.
One of the other timberwings lets off a call into the air, making the others answer, as if they’re celebrating our arrival. I almost want to let out a call right along with them, and I hear Judd do just that.
But even though I’m more than ready to be done flying, Fourth Kingdom really is beautiful from up here. With dewy air and radiant rivers, friendly lights dappling the dark landscape, it’s a sight to behold, and as Argo and the other timberwings fly straight for it, my anticipation bubbles up like foam on a lake.
Behind me, Slade’s mouth skims against the shell of my ear. “Welcome to Brackhill.”
Hidden behind the rising spires at the very back of Brackhill Castle, there’s a flat-top roof open to the stars.
One after another, the timberwings circle overhead in a kind of synchronized dance. Argo is the first to touch down as he lands in the center, his talons clicking against the ashen stone floor. The roof is amazing, with the view of the mountain behind us and the protected yet open sight of the sky. It makes me forget how travel weary I am.
“This is beautiful.”
Slade’s voice comes against my ear. “It’s our private entrance when we get back to the castle on our timberwings.”
“I love it.”
The others land beside us, and Slade reaches around to unbuckle us from the saddle’s straps. He swings up and off, stomping his feet for a second before he grips me by the waist and lifts me off. As soon as my feet hit the floor, my legs tingle, and I groan at how sore I am from riding nonstop.