Wings of Lomay by Devri Walls Page B

were exceptionally vulnerable.”
    “You had a flying fox.”
    “That was my fox from when I was a boy. He was very loyal.” Alcander’s words were tight and clipped, indicating that any questions regarding his childhood were unwelcome.
    “So, what you are telling me is that there are no flying foxes left anywhere in the land and that the only source is to go to Tavea.”
    Alcander hesitated. It was only for a moment, but Emane saw it.
    “That’s what I thought.”
    “It’s the best use of our time,” Alcander said. “We could spend weeks trying to round up just one fox, and we would have to travel through some dangerous areas to get to them. Even then, there is no guaran—”
    “Dangerous like Tavea?”
    Alcander’s mouth tightened.
    Emane crossed his arms. “You aren’t telling me something. Why are you so desperate to return to Tavea? I don’t believe it’s just for the foxes.”
    “That is none of your concern.”
    “I think it is. We barely made it out of there last—”
    Alcander held up his hand for silence as they reached the mouth of the tunnel. His expression changed, a hint of a smile flitting across his lips at the reunion below them.
    Hundreds of rebels filled the courtyard, embracing and talking with one another—Winged men, Taveans, Omelians, and a handful of Domats who looked like Drem minus the wrinkles. But while the rebels laughed and rejoiced, the Shifters stood silently around the perimeter of the room—outsiders looking in.
    “No one would have made it in without the Shifters,” Emane pointed out. “Every single rebel would have been caught by that army.”
    “I know.”
    Emane spotted Maddox and Ky talking to another Winged man who had just joined them. The Winged man stepped back, laughing, and bumped into a Shifter. He turned around. All joy dropped from his face as his eyes fixed on the Shifter’s wrist—the one who should have been braceleted. The Winged man’s face turned red, his hands fisted, and his wings flared. He looked up to Alcander.
    Alcander shook his head.
    Maddox grabbed the Winged man’s arm and pulled him away.
    “This is not going to be easy for them,” Alcander said. “As tools for the Shadow, the Shifters almost wiped us out. It was difficult for many of them to tolerate the Shifters’ presence as controlled servants, let alone as an equal.”
    “It was difficult for you as well,” Emane pointed out.
    “Sometimes it still is. You can’t erase years of history by meeting one or two Shifters who don’t meet your expectations.”
    Drustan strode toward them and looked out over the clear divide. “Don’t forget your promise, Alcander. The Shifters are to be treated as equals.”
    “I remember.”
    Emane wanted to ask Alcander how he planned to heal wounds of such depth. But everything about his stance, from the cross of his arms to the tightness of his frown and the stiffness of his shoulders, spoke to a leader who was unsure of how he was going to deal with the problem at hand.
    ***
    KIORA SLUMPED FORWARD ON Arturo as the sun set. Her stomach churned, and she leaned her head to the side and vomited.
    Hold on, Kiora. We are almost there.
    Her mind was a fog and her body was screaming at her to rest. Vaguely she heard a Dragon roar, and was somewhat aware of a Dragon thread. But she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, and drifted off.
    The clattering of Arturo’s hoofs against stone jolted her back to reality. She cried out as pain ripped through her arm.
    Kiora!
    Unable to hold on any longer, she slid off Arturo’s back. Her body hit the stone ramp inside the Dragon mountain of Toopai. She blinked, rolling her head to the side as Arturo’s face came into focus. His eyes were wide and worried as he nudged her cheek with his nose.
    Time was hazy, and the room went black. The next thing she saw was a Dragon face she recognized, yellow scales framing large eyes. “Your Majesty,” she whispered.
    “Kiora,” the queen rumbled. “What