CAGED (#3, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 27

Morning sunshine streamed downward, and beads of sweat ran in rivulets down my bare chest. I felt lighter, faster, stronger, and as usual, pissed the fuck off.

The training pit was dug into the inner courtyard of our fortress—an empty well of adamere stone, carpeted with sand. An open staircase wound around the inner curve of the pit, and circling the top of it was a wooden railing which a few members of our warband leaned against, watching my opponents and I duke it out below while placing bets amongst themselves.

Across the training pit came the ringing of steel on steel from a couple of soldiers sparring with swords. Surrounding me in the middle of the pit were my brothers, and it had turned from a spar to an all-out fucking brawl.

Sand kicked up beneath my boots. I was a whirlwind of grit and sand and fury. Kenton, his mouth grim line, moved fast, but I was faster—a cyclone of spinning wind—driving my quarterstaff into his with a thunderous crack, slamming him backward.

All I had in my head was Nelle, always my little bird, but this time accompanied by my mother. Two jigsaw puzzles in one box, with all the pieces mixed up, and no picture to figure them out.

I'd groggily awoken as the sun had started to rise, blinking blearily, slowly coming to. It had taken me a while to recall what had happened and where I was. This time, like when I'd awoken on the long, wild grasses in the Wychthorns' aviary, I felt refreshed and recharged as most people did after a night of peaceful sleep. And I found the reason why—slumbering nearby, her upper body sprawled against the bed and her head cradled by an arm, was Nelle. Her thick mane of wavy locks cloaked her shoulders and splayed like moonlight across the dark midnight bedding. Her right arm was stretched across the mattress and her little finger was curled around mine. Her plump lips were slightly parted and I smiled, as I heard a quiet little purr of snoring, something I hadn't realized she did until I'd trapped her in my residence.

There'd been a few nights she'd cried out in her sleep, caught in a nightmare. Under Sage's watchful eye, I'd gone into her bedroom and sat down on the edge of her bed to soothe her before her nightmare had her thrashing and screaming. Danne or darkness—she was plagued with nightmares, the same as me.

Last night, it had been the same dream that had haunted me every time I fell under—a nightmare of a Horned God with red hair and a forked tongue. And my mother... My mother was always there.

But this time the dark dreamscape had melted like honey on hot toast, thinning and becoming watery. It became light and summery, like swaying wheat and lush springtime grass.

Unlike Sirro's otherworldly threads of power, there were golden strands of light.

And the dream turned into something new, a place I'd never been before...

Somewhere with rich opulent colors and glass...

Rows and rows of glass canisters.

My mother's face wasn't white with shock or smeared with blood. Her lips weren't parted as she screamed in terror.