Thalia Thornbreak's Arc

Chapter 6 of 9

By dusk they reached the edge of the deep woods. Thalia dragged an antler from the dead beast, wrapped in her cloak. Marcus crept ahead to scout the road home. He came back low and fast. "Riders," he said. "Four, maybe more. Your father spread them across every open path. Take one, and you ride right into their hands." Thalia sank against a trunk. Her ribs burned with each breath. The proof meant nothing if she could not carry it to the court. "They know I'm slow," she said. "They know I'm hurt. They planned this." "Then we don't use the roads," Marcus said. "On foot? Wounded? They'd run us down by morning." She shut her eyes. She needed to reach the court, not the men blocking the ground between here and it. The ground. That was the trap. She did not have to cross it. A sound moved above them. Wings, slow and heavy. Thalia looked up. The white wyvern settled on a broken branch, scales catching the last light in soft rainbow shine. It was the same creature that had carried Sylvara's sealed objection home. It had found her again. Its violet eyes fixed on her, patient, as if it had waited for this. "You," Thalia whispered. She pushed off the trunk and stood. "You know what I want. You knew before I did." Marcus stared. "You mean to fly." "The riders own the roads. They don't own the sky." She stepped toward the wyvern, one hand out. "It carried a message faster than any horse. It can carry me the same way. Over their heads. Past every path they blocked." The wyvern lowered its neck. Thalia gripped a ridge of scale and pulled herself up. Pain tore through her side. She bit it down. Marcus caught her belt and shoved her higher until she straddled the warm back. She reached down. "Come." He shook his head. "It carries one, hurt as you are. I'll draw them the other way. Give you clean air." He handed up the wrapped antler. "Take your proof. Reach the court. Say the deed out loud before they can twist it." She wanted to argue. There was no time. "Then don't get caught," she said. "I never do." He slapped the wyvern's flank. The wings snapped open. The forest dropped away. Wind tore at her hair and cloak. Below, the roads unrolled like pale threads, and on two of them she saw torches, riders stopped and staring up. One raised an arm. None could follow. She held the antler tight and let the sky carry her past them all. The wyvern banked toward the distant lights of the Royal Elven Court. Thalia had beaten the riders. But she flew home alone now, without Marcus, without a plan, straight into the court her parents ruled, with only a dead beast's antler to make them believe.