The Unfinished Song (Book 5): Wing by Tara Maya

Death have one more Aelfae. Then you will finally be
alone.”
    Vessia clenched her fists. Xerpen: Xerpen the Singer
of Light, had once been his Shining Name; he had always been silver
voiced. His other name was Xerpen the Two Tongued, for he could
talk to two people at the same time, stretch truth in opposite
directions in two different tales simultaneously, and each would
only hear what Xerpen wanted them to hear. She had always been the
warrior, and he her bard. With his song he could charm birds to the
rivers and fish to the trees. With reed flutes, he had made
beautiful music.
    He’d made himself a new flute since then.
    If she had not lost her memory, she should have
guessed the identity of the Bone Whistler long ago.
    “Give me the Bone Flute,” she commanded.
    His smugness slipped. His tongue darted to the
corner of his mouth, lizard-like. “I don’t have it.”
    She took the spear from his hand and smacked him
across the face with it. “Give me the Bone Flute!”
    “Oh, here it is after all.” He smiled sickly and
produced the flute.
    She freed it from his grip.
    “This is my offer,” she said. “Leave now. Flee and
never set foot again in the Rainbow Labyrinth. Change your name,
live in hiding, and do not seek to regain the power you have lost.
Tell no one who you are. Seek no revenge. Live out the few years
left to you, before the Curse claims you, dwelling in quiet despair
over the misery you have wrought on Faearth.
    “I will not kill an Aelfae,” she conceded. “But if
you betray my trust, I will tell the Skull Stomper you are alive,
and how to hunt you down, and he will kill you. Now go!”
    Xerpen the Singer of Light, Xerpen the Two Tongued,
Xerpen the Bone Whistler, staggered away, down the alley. Just as
he disappeared from sight around the corner, he shouted back at
her.
    “How will you hunt me down without wings,
Vessia?”
    She ran after him but all she found was the echo of
his laughter and smoke. Bloody footprints on the pavement tracked
halfway down the alley then simply stopped, as if he had taken
flight.
    Panic stabbed her. Her fist closed around the small
bag with the opal inside, the shimmering stone into which she had
folded her wings. Her fingers closed around something hard. She
enjoyed a trickle of relief, but it lasted only a moment, before
worry compelled her to open the leather bag and slide out the
stone.
    The stone in the palm of her hand was dull grey—an
ordinary rock.
    Fool, fool, fool that she was, she had
released a monster. And to thank her, he had stolen her wings.
Umbral
    Umbral could see the ribbons that wove the Vision
around Dindi, and he even caught a glimpse of the White Lady.
Excited, he tried to close his fist around the wisp of light.
    It was like trying to clench snow with fire. The
Vision only melted faster the harder he tried to grip it.
    He refused to accept failure. If he could not pull
the Vision to him, he would cage it. He carefully grew prickles of
darkness around the waves of light, like a forest of thorny
brambles around a captive sun.
    The void in his Penumbra snuffed out the sun. The
Vision vanished.
Dindi
    The Vision popped like a bubble.
    Panting with exhilaration, Dindi came to a rest in
the same semi-supine pose which she had used to initiate the dance.
Her intricate spiraling frolic had brought her only inches away
from where Umbral sat. Her transport into a sensuous world of bliss
faded, leaving her with a dying fire behind her, cold midnight
stars overhead, and a man whom she detested before her.
    His skin was as sheened with sweat as hers, his
respiration just as labored. He crouched like a wolf ready to leap,
muscles taut. For a moment, they stared at one another, inches
apart, breaths mingling. Then Dindi gave a small cry, and stumbled
back.
    “Careful!” Umbral shot out an arm to steady her
before she could flounder into the fire pit.
    Dindi no longer felt the winter chill. But she felt
the utter coldness of the void around Umbral