A Duet of Sword and Song: A Tale of Stars and Shadow, Book 4 (eBook)

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Chapter 1
A chair scraped across the floor, its legs cutting through the narrow slices of sunlight that shone through the gaps in the wooden planks nailed to the window. Cuinn tracked the movement with a distant stare.
He’d drifted awake a few moments earlier and decided that the light meant it was day… but which day? How long since… His thoughts trailed off, growing muddled in a tangle of memory: blood and fighting and his brother’s triumphant face.
A soft yowl came from the foot of the bed, making Cuinn aware of the weight pressing against his legs. Jasper. He blinked again as the chair stopped by his bed and someone sat on it, their form cutting off most of the light from the window. “It’s me, Prince Cuinn. Jystar.”
The healer’s dark-skinned face moved into his line of vision. Cuinn licked his dry lips, then decided he’d try and sit up. Maybe that would restore some clarity to his groggy mind. Stabbing pain between his shoulders and down his back stopped him before he’d moved more than an inch.
He gave a grunt of pain, tried to turn his head to see what the cause of it was, then froze at the realisation he couldn’t see his wings.
His heart seemed to stop in his chest.
“I’m sorry, Prince Cuinn. I couldn’t save them.” Jystar spoke again, soft but firm, leaving no room for Cuinn to hope that he might mean something else. “You’re okay, but I’ve kept you unconscious to help the healing. You’re going to feel out of it for a while. You lost a lot of blood.”
Cuinn’s eyes closed and he pressed his face into the pillow, not wanting to betray the horror and nausea rising through him. He tried to suck in a breath, fists clenching, nails digging into his palms. “Talyn?” he managed to ask. If she were here, it would be okay. He could get through anything if she was here with him.
A hesitation, then, “We don’t know. She and Zamaril are still missing.”
The words hit him like a physical blow. He buried his face deeper in the pillow, pain and grief and horror roping through him in unrelenting waves. The weight on his feet shifted and moved up the bed, steering clear of his back. A damp nose nudged his cheek, then the weight settled at his left side.
“We’re in a safe house in the Poor Quarter.” Jystar kept talking, but seemed to give up after a few moments when Cuinn gave no appearance of hearing him.
The door opened and brisk footsteps crossed to the chair. Saniya’s voice sounded. “Is he awake?”
“He is.” Jystar sighed, sounding tired, worn. “I told him about his wings. He asked about the Ciantar. Have your people found any sign of her yet?”
“Nothing so far.” A hesitation. “Not even a single sign of what happened.”
Jystar said nothing. Cuinn tried to breathe through the pain.
A brief silence, then, “The last group left on the dawn tide. Far as I could tell they made it out safely. You can’t linger here much longer. The patrols are increasing—they’re moving into the deepest parts of the Poor Quarter now.”
“He’s in no condition to travel, even if we could be sure he was going somewhere safe.” Worry filled Jystar’s voice, weighing unbearably against Cuinn’s song magic and making it impossible to escape the miasma of despair filling every inch of him.
Saniya’s voice sharpened. “You’re going to compromise me and my people if you stay here much longer.”
“We’re appreciative of your help, but—”
“I don’t care if you’re appreciative. There was a debt owed. I paid it, but my patience is running thin and you’re risking exposing all of us.” Another pause. “Let me know when he’s more alert. I want to talk to him.”
The door opened. Closed. Its sharp click jolted Cuinn out of the daze of emotion and pain he’d sunk into.
“Your Highness?” Jystar asked. “I’m going to work on your back, all right?”
“Wolves?” he managed.
“Vengeance has been moving them out in small groups, helping them get north to Darmour.” Jystar swallowed. “I hope they reached it safely. You and I are all that’s left now. Saniya made the talons leave, insisted it was easier to keep you hidden here without a pack of Wolves surrounding you at all times.” A light touch on his back made him wince as pain rippled down his spine. “I’ll make it as painless as possible, Your Highness.”
It didn’t matter. Nothing Jystar did could hurt worse than what he was already feeling. His wings were gone. Talyn was lost. His throne was lost. Wolves had died. The rest had fled to uncertain safety. Silent tears streaked his cheeks.
How did he come back from that?