self-righteousness sickens me.” Lord Rejius raised both arms. They shriveled and twisted sideways as black feathers emerged from his skin.
Benasin nudged Melaia toward the door. “Get out!” His own arms began to transform.
Lord Rejius’s face contorted, more bird now than man.
“Out!” Benasin shoved Melaia, not with an arm, but with a wing. She ran.
The cry of the hawkman followed her down the stairs as he screeched, “Dwin! Take the girl!”
“I’m already after her,” called Trevin.
Melaia stumbled down the stairs, retraced the torchlit corridor at a run, dodged servants, and headed for the entryway. But Caepio and his actors were milling around the door to the great hall, preparing to enter. Melaia groaned, knowing they would hail her if they saw her. Yet she couldn’t turn back, for Trevin’s footsteps echoed behind her.
Slipping into the shadows behind the marble columns, Melaia wove her way to the front doors, then dashed to the portal guard. “Lord Rejius needs help in the aerie!” she told him. “Quick!”
As the guard trotted toward the east corridor, she shoved a door open and made the same claim to the two outer guards, who were already gaping at theaerie window. A succession of screeches and squawks ripped the air. The guards rushed inside, and Melaia ran down the steps into the courtyard.
The few people in the yard, including the stableboy, stood like statues, gazing toward the aerie. Melaia grabbed the stableboy’s arm. “I need help!”
He stared at her, wide-eyed. “If it’s about the aerie, lady, I’ll not get mixed up in it.”
“Ho there!” a gate guard called out.
Melaia shrank behind the stableboy as the guard ran toward the palace, sword in hand. Trevin stood at the top of the steps, scanning the yard. Dwin shot out from the doors behind him.
“Am I needed?” asked the guard.
“We’re looking for a lady,” said Dwin. “A priestess.”
The stableboy shifted.
“Don’t,” whispered Melaia, edging back behind him.
But Trevin had already spotted her. His gaze held hers for a moment. Then he turned to the guard and called, “Check the temple.”
Melaia ducked into the stable. “What is he doing?” she murmured. Did he intend to take her himself? She glanced out the door, fully expecting to see Trevin loping toward the stables.
Instead, she saw Dwin hit him on the arm. “I can’t believe a girl outran you,” he griped.
“Maybe she didn’t,” Trevin shouted, shoving Dwin. “Maybe she’s still inside.” They both barged back through the bronze doors.
Melaia leaned against the wall and tried to catch her breath. The courtyard fell eerily quiet. No squawks. No yelling. Nothing. She wondered if it was too late to help Benasin. Livia was the only person she could think of who might be able to help, but getting to Livia seemed out of the question with the courtyard being watched and the temple being searched.
A squat, bandy-legged man with a weathered face stepped from a stall as horses bobbed their heads over the rails and eyed Melaia. “Agues and ailments, lady, you spooked too?” The man ran his fingers through his dirt brown hair,which stuck out like an unweeded garden. “All that racket. I was just calming the horses.”
She stared at him, panting, wondering if she should run.
He grabbed a rag and wiped his callous hands. “I’m Armsman Pymbric. Or just Pym, if it suits you. And you’re?”
She took a cautious step toward him. “Melaia. Livia told me about you.”
“You know Livia?”
Melaia nodded. “She’s at the temple, but the guards are there looking for me.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you involved in the ruckus?”
“It’s Lord Rejius. He attacked my friend Benasin in the aerie, and I ran.”
“Benasin? I traveled in with him today. Just saw to his mount. He’s in the aerie, you say?” Pym peered out into the courtyard.
“He’s wounded. I have to go back and see if I can help him. And the harp is up
Benasin nudged Melaia toward the door. “Get out!” His own arms began to transform.
Lord Rejius’s face contorted, more bird now than man.
“Out!” Benasin shoved Melaia, not with an arm, but with a wing. She ran.
The cry of the hawkman followed her down the stairs as he screeched, “Dwin! Take the girl!”
“I’m already after her,” called Trevin.
Melaia stumbled down the stairs, retraced the torchlit corridor at a run, dodged servants, and headed for the entryway. But Caepio and his actors were milling around the door to the great hall, preparing to enter. Melaia groaned, knowing they would hail her if they saw her. Yet she couldn’t turn back, for Trevin’s footsteps echoed behind her.
Slipping into the shadows behind the marble columns, Melaia wove her way to the front doors, then dashed to the portal guard. “Lord Rejius needs help in the aerie!” she told him. “Quick!”
As the guard trotted toward the east corridor, she shoved a door open and made the same claim to the two outer guards, who were already gaping at theaerie window. A succession of screeches and squawks ripped the air. The guards rushed inside, and Melaia ran down the steps into the courtyard.
The few people in the yard, including the stableboy, stood like statues, gazing toward the aerie. Melaia grabbed the stableboy’s arm. “I need help!”
He stared at her, wide-eyed. “If it’s about the aerie, lady, I’ll not get mixed up in it.”
“Ho there!” a gate guard called out.
Melaia shrank behind the stableboy as the guard ran toward the palace, sword in hand. Trevin stood at the top of the steps, scanning the yard. Dwin shot out from the doors behind him.
“Am I needed?” asked the guard.
“We’re looking for a lady,” said Dwin. “A priestess.”
The stableboy shifted.
“Don’t,” whispered Melaia, edging back behind him.
But Trevin had already spotted her. His gaze held hers for a moment. Then he turned to the guard and called, “Check the temple.”
Melaia ducked into the stable. “What is he doing?” she murmured. Did he intend to take her himself? She glanced out the door, fully expecting to see Trevin loping toward the stables.
Instead, she saw Dwin hit him on the arm. “I can’t believe a girl outran you,” he griped.
“Maybe she didn’t,” Trevin shouted, shoving Dwin. “Maybe she’s still inside.” They both barged back through the bronze doors.
Melaia leaned against the wall and tried to catch her breath. The courtyard fell eerily quiet. No squawks. No yelling. Nothing. She wondered if it was too late to help Benasin. Livia was the only person she could think of who might be able to help, but getting to Livia seemed out of the question with the courtyard being watched and the temple being searched.
A squat, bandy-legged man with a weathered face stepped from a stall as horses bobbed their heads over the rails and eyed Melaia. “Agues and ailments, lady, you spooked too?” The man ran his fingers through his dirt brown hair,which stuck out like an unweeded garden. “All that racket. I was just calming the horses.”
She stared at him, panting, wondering if she should run.
He grabbed a rag and wiped his callous hands. “I’m Armsman Pymbric. Or just Pym, if it suits you. And you’re?”
She took a cautious step toward him. “Melaia. Livia told me about you.”
“You know Livia?”
Melaia nodded. “She’s at the temple, but the guards are there looking for me.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you involved in the ruckus?”
“It’s Lord Rejius. He attacked my friend Benasin in the aerie, and I ran.”
“Benasin? I traveled in with him today. Just saw to his mount. He’s in the aerie, you say?” Pym peered out into the courtyard.
“He’s wounded. I have to go back and see if I can help him. And the harp is up
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