Against the Wind

18.1 || Raya

Flight did not belong in reality. Whenever Raya had dreamed of it, she'd woken dizzy and disoriented, snatching at fragments of a soaring sensation in her stomach and wind lifting the thick waves of hair from her shoulders, always disappointed when they darted out of reach and left her crashing back into the real world. Her body had felt heavier on those mornings, her calves strained and less willing to carry her. As a very young girl, she'd twisted her back to the mirror and teased at her dress, checking the grooves of her spine for the wings she'd sworn should sprout from hidden pockets in her skin.

Her mother had scolded her for that and dismissed the dreams as silly. Even young Hariq's laugh had an edge, and it hadn't taken her much more maturing to figure why. Wings were a beast trait. They were disgusting and evil. If a mage wanted to fly, she should do it of her own power. She should not wish for anything more or less.

Now, rising into the air with only the grip of her thighs fastening her to Meag's back, she delved inward for her childhood self, the small, excitable girl twirling in the mirror who had not yet lived long enough to fear. Her dream-like version of flying had been easy. The sky had been an open, empty canvas, but here it tore at her, cutting with the same ferocity as a swarm of blunt knives. Her stomach flipped and plummeted, ice trickling to her dangling toes. Her legs ached, and she slid. Panic screamed in her ears. Her gaze yanked to the increasing drop below, sand stiffening to smooth, stony slopes with distance, utterly unforgiving. She struggled to catch her breath.

She was grateful for the spark of determination still thrumming within her, not quite yet winked out. It kept the fingers of one arm latched into Meag's thick mane, limbs hardly visible amid a sea of frayed ash-grey fur, while the other hugged the waist of an unconscious Amina. The apprentice girl lay slumped over Meag's neck, her brown curls spilled in a haphazard puddle around her head and chin tucked into the pleated collar of her dress. Despite the dust-induced sleep cast over her, a wrinkle remained in her brow. Raya wouldn't have been all that surprised if her closed eyelids hid a glare, intent on fighting even her dreams.

Again, Raya ran through her reasoning for bringing Amina with her, ignoring the guilty squirm in her gut. Though there was no way of knowing whose ears the rumour would reach, Amina was the only one who'd truly seen Raya demonstrate her loyalty to Corvin. In removing that voice, there was a slight chance she could preserve her reputation—more than slight, she told herself. It wouldn't be a simple thing to believe. History didn't tell of traitorous mages. Like thievery, the crime was a myth. It didn't happen.

With Meag's noisy heart beating beneath her, grounding amid the sky's chaos, Raya couldn't help but wonder just how much of what she knew for certain was a lie.

The thought ran the line of a bigger idea, one that hung like smoke over her mind with wisps that gradually solidified, eked from that deep-rendered spark. She swept it into one corner, out of the way. She would have time for big plans once she was out of view of the city, when she'd found Corvin and somewhere to land. They could work something out together. Now, she needed to focus on not plummeting to her death.

As if Meag had decided to renew the urgency of that need, she bucked, her spine arching as her body rippled and jerked. Her mane slipped an inch through Raya's fingers, and her heels scrabbled roughly at the beast's flank, battling to keep her from sliding, her arm riddled with complaints as she curled it tighter around Amina. All the logic in the world couldn't keep the girl's weight from pressing on her chest, doubling the threat of the air's maw waiting beneath her kicking feet. She gasped and dug them in, trembling, heart stampeding.

Meag's cry pecked at her ears, and she winced. "Sorry," she pushed out. "Meag. I'm going to..." Every breath was like paper on her tongue, crinkling in her throat, no weight at all in her lungs. "Please fly steady."