#aedan windblade

“Just me, Aedan,” she whispered. “Just me. I came to bring you - home. I came to try and fix it.”

He shook his head. Water dripped from the leaves and branches around them, a quiet patter to fill the silence. Thunder rolled gently in the distance.

“Is… is Lucas… dead?” he asked, his voice hollow.

Shae’s heart twisted. “No,” she said, her voice small and thin. “No, he isn’t. He’s hurt. But they don’t think he’s going to die.”

Aedan didn’t move for a long second, and his eyes seemed to be fixed on something in the distance past Shae’s face. “Oh,” he whispered. “I’m… I’m glad.” He took a deep breath, and she could see his chest rising and falling.

He was silent for another long moment.

“Aedan…” Shae said. “Can I… look, I have dry clothes and blankets and things back in my saddlebags. And food. Why don’t I go and get them, and we can build your fire up a bit, and… and I can help you, okay?”

His mouth twisted and he looked upset. “Help me?” he echoed. “Shae, I’ve been - the last three days have been… you locked me up! I thought I was safe, I thought we were family, but things changed like that and - and - ” He tried to snap his fingers, fumbled and lost hold of the blanket, let it slither to the mud. His voice was starting to rise, cracking and falling over itself. “Lucas broke - he said - he was going to kill me. He would have killed me. Why should - why are you -” He gestured wildly, one of his wings coming out at last to join in the gesture. “What are you even doing out here by yourself?”

Shae stared at his wings, misery sitting in her stomach like cold mud. His wings. One of them was bound to his back with filthy bandaging, the cloth mussing up and fraying the feathers where it held them tight against his body. The other was open, but dark with moisture like his hair, and so bedraggled she could see strips of the forest floor through the gaps between feathers. It hurt her heart to see them like that, beautiful things he’d taken such care of, part of him in a way that clothes and hair weren’t, unkempt and immobile.

“I came to find you,” she said, faltering. “I - I thought - ”

“Why would you want to help me?” he asked. She could see his mouth twisting for a moment, and then he was crying, tears mingling with the water running down his face from his hairline. “Aren’t I just… just some bargaining chip to you? Just a token of, of an alliance that it turns out isn’t even worth the paper it’s written on?” He rubbed his eye with the heel of one hand. “I-if the treaty’s worthless what’s that make me? Aren’t I j-j-just another wingfolk, your enemy, barbarians, vermin? Lucas called us v-vermin, why are you out h-here tramping th-through the woods for some creature if I’m n-not even useful for making my family do what you want...”

“Aedan!” Shae begged. “No!” She wrung her hands in front of her, wanting to go to him, wanting to touch his wings, wanting to bundle him up into her arms, stroke his hair the way she knew he liked. She had never wanted to touch anybody as much as she wanted to touch Aedan now, with a force that startled her.

He stared at the ground, tears dripping from his chin. His arms were folded, hugging himself, thin shoulders shivering. “I don’t know if I’d be able to stop you dragging me back to the castle anyway,” he said bitterly. “Wouldn’t get very far if I tried to run, would I?”

“I’m not going to drag you anywhere!”

“Really? So if I told you to turn around and go back without me, you would?”

“I - ” Shae swallowed. She buried her hands in the hair at her temples, stared up at the rain-soaked canopy for a long moment while she thought. “Yes,” she said. “I don’t - please don’t do that, though. You won’t make it through the forest and out the other side by yourself.”

“Made it this far,” he mumbled, staring at the ground. “Must be halfway, right?”

“I don’t… know,” Shae said uncomfortably.  “Look… since I’m here, can I go and get my stuff? You look freezing. And you must be hungry.” She coughed suddenly, trying to clear the wobbles that kept trying to creep into her voice. “At least let me feed you before you leave, if you’re going to.”

“I…” He rubbed absently at one shoulder, and shrugged. He didn’t meet her eyes, didn’t even look up, but he nodded at the ground. “Yeah. Okay. I guess.”

Shae exhaled shakily in relief. “Great!” she said quickly. She backed up a few steps, held her hands up like Aedan was a wild animal that might startle at sudden movement. “I’ll be back soon, all right? Don’t go anywhere!”

When Shae returned, leading the horse very carefully across the uneven ground, Aedan had pulled some dead branches close to the fire to dry out. He was sitting on the thick, coiled root that was protruding from the ground, sodden stringy tail feathers out behind him, hunched up and staring into the fire.

“Hey,” Shae said, out of breath, her saddlebag over one shoulder. The root was long enough to seat a couple of people side by side, and she pointed to the space beside him. “Can I sit there, Aedan?”

His eyes flicked up to her. He shook his head slowly. “You can sit over there,” he said, pointing to a rotten log at least a metre and a half away, at a right-angle with him and the fire.

Shae nodded, a lump in her throat. “Sure,” she agreed.

She knelt and began to spread the contents of the pack out, keeping them as dry and clean as she could, relieved to find that the waterproof material of the packs had kept everything dry. She shook out the set of Aedan’s shirt and what passed for pants for him out. “I brought you these, Aedan, do you want to get out of your wet things? In the meantime I’ll start boiling water and we can have tea. I brought this, um, travel cake, I don’t know if you’d have tried it before but it has dried fruit and honey so I think you’ll like it….”

Aedan tipped his head slowly. “You brought a set of my clothes?”

“Well - yeah,” she said. “I figured, if you were only dressed for hanging around at home reading, you would still be in those…” She squinted across the distance at his shirt. It didn’t seem to be done up right - the tie around his neck was done, but she realised that the part that was supposed to fasten around the small of his back had to be left loose because the bandaged wing was in the way.

He didn’t make any move to come over to get the clothing, so Shae stood up, stepped around the fire, and draped it over the end of his root along with one of her blankets. He watched her wordlessly as she approached, and as she retreated.

He looked exhausted. He looked sore. She found herself looking at the livid bruises around his throat and feeling a black tide of anger against Lucas rising up in her chest.

Lucas might not get better. Lucas could have died. So it felt in some way disloyal for Shae to be this furiously angry at him, to want to shake him and ask him what was wrong with him, to want to never speak to him again so that maybe he’d understand what an awful thing he’d done.

She started to busy her hands with the little pan, pouring her bottle of water into it and fishing for the store of tea leaves she had brought.

“Did you tell Lucas I would be on the roof?”

She started, nearly spilling the tea leaves. “Um,” she said, thoughts racing, staring at her hands. “When do you…”

His voice was low and angry. “When? Stop it, Shae, you know what I meant. Lucas told me that you didn’t care about what happened to me, and he knew exactly where I’d be, out reading on the roof like I always am in the mornings when I’m not in the library. I trusted you. I trusted you, and he said you told him where to find me!”

“I guess I did,” Shae said, wincing. “But it’s not like that, Aedan, I didn’t mean for - I didn’t know he was going to hurt you.”

She gathered her courage and looked up, over at him where he sat on the root.

He was looking back at her with wild, hurt eyes. “He’s your brother. Don’t you know him best? What did you think he was going to do? Didn’t he say?”

“No!” she protested. “He just said – he just said that they needed to find you, in case – I don’t know, in case you were in on the attack. He didn’t say he was going to hurt you. I just thought we’d lock you in a room or something until we knew what was going on!”

He let out a disbelieving breath. “Oh, just that, then,” he said, and his tone was very unlike Aedan, bitten off and sarcastic, tight with hurt. “Not to worry! Just going to lock me up!”

“I’m sorry,” Shae said, closing her eyes, wanting to shrivel up with shame. “I shouldn’t have…”

“Did you really think I had anything to do with killing the King?” he asked. “Why would I do that? Did you think, what? That I was a spy, that I was going to hurt you? I wouldn’t have! I liked the King, he was never anything but kind to me, and even if he hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have hurt him!”

“I know!” Shae said, lifting her hands to her head. “I know that now! Now that I think about it. But at the time, I just…  we just didn’t know if we could trust you! And Dad was missing, we didn’t know - everything was so confusing, and I didn’t know I felt about you when I thought about it, and I just - thought - there was so much I needed to do and I thought I could figure out what I felt later!”

She put the tea down, sat back in the dirt, wrapped her arms around her knees. Everything was a tangled mess inside her chest. Dad. I miss you. You’re never coming back.

Aedan was silent, over on the other side of the fire. When she looked over at him, blinking back tears, she saw that he had his hands over his face.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice thin and muffled. “About your dad. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened but it was wrong, it’s not fair, I’m so sorry. He was… he was a good man, he was a good king.”

She nodded, her throat tight. “Yeah,” she whispered. “He was. Thank you.” She wiped her eyes.

They fell into awkward silence again. The fire crackled. The little pan of water was starting to boil, and Shae moved it off the fire, for something to do with her hands.

Aedan’s hands crept out and took the clothing she’d put on his seat. “Look, thanks for - thanks for thinking to bring these,” he mumbled. “And everything else, too. I know you don’t want to hurt me, not really. And Robb didn’t, either. It’s just… it’s all so complicated, Shae.”

She latched onto that gratefully. “Yes,” she said. “It is.”

“I’m going to - go put these on,” he said nervously. “Don’t, um, look over I guess.” He stepped up onto the root and over, walking a few steps away.  

Shae stifled a rueful little smile, as if Shae catching sight of Aedan minus his pants was really something that needed to worry them both at this point. She kept her gaze carefully on the fire.

He returned, and when she looked cautiously over at him he was toweling his hair dry with one of the blankets.

He paused, looked at her, looked at the fire. Then he ignored the root he’d been sitting on, took the extra few steps around the fire, and settled carefully on the end of Shae’s log,  leaving a space between where he was and where she would sit when she came back from the fire.

She held out one of the thin metal traveling cups to him, giving off fragrant steam. His eyes flickered, and he gave her a hesitant, tremulous beginning of a smile. He put the blanket aside, leaving his hair a birds-nest of braids and knots and tangles, and reached out to take the cup from her. Their fingers brushed, his cold and soft, and she shifted her grip away from them as she handed it to him.

Then she eased herself backwards and up onto the log, leaving a few hands-widths between them. He had his hands wrapped around the tea and his shoulders hunched over it, pressed against his chest. Shae took her own cup and sipped it, more for companionship than because she really wanted tea. The taste was soothing, though.

“You need to eat,” she said, firmly, unwrapping the waxed paper from her travel cake. “When did you eat last? You look horrible.”

He gave another, stronger smile. “Um. I found a few things,” he said. “I do know some woodcraft, you know. Unfortunately a lot of the plants here are different so it wasn’t as helpful as I was hoping it was.”

He took the cake from her hand, and didn’t speak at all for the next minute or so as he ate it, every crumb, silent and intently focused on it in a way that made it clear just how hungry he’d been.

“Shae…”

She looked up and over, her heart skipping. “Yes?”

He was staring into the flames. It was getting darker, and the leaping shadows made the bruising less obvious. “I would have liked it if you had trusted me,” he said slowly. “I trusted you.” He put the empty cup down, and crossed his arms, gripping his elbows. “I thought that we were, you know… I liked you, and I thought maybe you were coming around to thinking better of me. And I trusted your family, Robb and Lucas. And I trusted Wizard Tamsin when she said I’d be safe here. I trusted my family.” He hunched forward, hugging his arms to his body. His voice was a whisper. “I guess I’m just an idiot, aren’t I? Because it turns out I shouldn’t have trusted any of those people.”

Shae bit her lip. “Aedan… no,” she said. “You’re not - an idiot. You just want people to be good, you think the best of people. That’s a good thing. It’s something that I like a lot about you. You should have been safe to trust people.”

Aedan hummed wordlessly. He had his arms wrapped around himself tightly, like he needed to feel them, like he would fall apart otherwise. She could see the shivers wracking his frame, and the urge from before resurfaced harder than ever, to wrap her arms around him.

“I’m really sorry, Aedan,” she said softly. “It’s complicated, you’re right, but I should have done better by you.”

He nodded, shivering still. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

She hesitated. She didn’t want to reach out, not if he didn’t want her to. She settled for leaning back and opening her posture slightly, leaving a space that he could fit if he wanted to. She opened her arm, hesitantly, slightly, trying to make it obvious to him but at the same time not obvious so that if he wanted to ignore it she could put her arm back down and they could both pretend that she had never done it.  

His eyes slid over towards her, and for a moment they were unreadable. Then he unfolded his arms, sat up a little straighter, and edged over, inch by inch, until his side with the broken wing was pressing into the space she had left for him.

Shae drew in a slow, shaking breath, and let her arm come around to lie across his shoulders. He was ungainly under her arm, all shivering and wet feathers and joints that she didn’t want to jostle.

“Is - oh, your wing - I’m not hurting it, am I?”

He shook his head. “No. No, it’s fine.”

He pressed closer as her arm closed around him, and then suddenly with a choked noise he turned in the circle of her arm and let himself fall forward against her chest, face buried in her shoulder.

Shae felt, very definitely, as though she did not deserve this. But she put her other arm around him, too, snugged him closer against her hip, and leaned her head down on his. His hands and arms were caught between them, pressing against her front, and she could feel the water from his wings and hair soaking into her dress.

It wasn’t comfortable. It wasn’t even all that warm. But they sat there, as darkness deepened around them and Shae realised they really ought to be caring for the horse and setting up more of a camp, since they wouldn’t be heading out until morning. Aedan’s shivering slowed, and stopped, and he stopped pressing his face into her neck quite so desperately.

His left wing had relaxed and was drooping in front of them, half-open, the feathers drying out to a more familiar and comfortable cream and brown. Shae shifted position, reached out and gently ran her finger and thumb down the vane of the first primary that came to hand.

Aedan at first tensed, looked up. When he saw that her hand was what had touched his wing, he relaxed a little further into the embrace and sighed. She could feel his breath stir the air close to her neck.

“You know,” Shae said, and her hand continued picking and stroking gently amongst his feathers. “I brought some stuff for your wing, from Martin. Clean bandages, something for pain. Want me to get them out? ”

But would anybody really be saved by Aedan doing that? In the abstract, maybe. He wasn’t sure it actually made that much concrete difference. But if even one person might die because Aedan had told Robb where their village was or where they got their supplies from… How could he? Not for the first time Aedan felt adrift with how little he understood about war and the humans.

He wanted to believe it wouldn’t come to that. Surely somebody would come to save him - Tamsin, or Shae, or his mother - but no. Nobody was coming, nobody was going to wrap their arms around him and take him home and tell him it would be all right. Probably the best he could hope for was that Shae and Robb didn’t actively want him dead and might be persuaded to just imprison him until the war was over.

Which brought him back to his initial thought. The only tools Aedan had at his disposal were words, so he had better use them with a bit more care and determination. So, tell Robb no. But be dignified. Try to talk over some other sort of solution. Be calm and reasonable and make Robb see that he didn’t have to do anything violent.

There was a rattling noise outside the door. Aedan sat bolt upright, his heart fluttering with panic. Robb can’t be back yet. I haven’t thought up what I’m going to say!

He shot to his feet anyway, scuffling and fluttering his good wing as he used the wall to support himself on the way up. Hurriedly he pushed his hair out of his face, combing fingers through it and breathing deeply, in an attempt to both look more presentable and calm himself down. There was nothing to be done about the shirt that wouldn’t button around his bandages, or the dirty bare feet, or the blood and sweat that he could feel on his skin, but he could at least have his hair and feathers in order.  

The door swung open. Aedan took a deep breath, and tipped his chin up ready to meet Robb’s eyes.

Behind the door was Lucas.

Words died in Aedan’s throat. He backed away until his wings both hit the wall with a muffled thump, scarcely even noticing the stab of pain.

Lucas stepped inside, alone. He closed and locked the door behind him with the little iron key. The tiny sounds of metal scraping seemed huge in the silence.

When he was finished, he turned his head slowly to look at Aedan. His face was pale and waxy-looking. He watched Aedan in silence for a few moments, his gaze moving up and down Aedan’s scant height with his mouth pulled tight. Animosity seemed to lie about him and over him, like a thick blanket wrapped around his hunched shoulders.  

Aedan said nothing. He wanted to speak, desperately, he wanted to say something that would shatter this horrible silence, something that would make Aedan into a person again and not just a hated thing that stood here and shivered under Lucas’ regard. The words had to exist, didn’t they?

But Aedan’s eyes met Lucas’, rimmed in red and eyelids puffy, and he couldn’t speak.

“He’s dead,” Lucas said, his voice low, hollow-seeming.

Aedan didn’t ask who he meant. Even in the midst of his fear, he felt a sharp stab of grief. The King is dead. He would never good-naturedly tease his children around the dinner table again, or lose his temper at hisnobles, or laugh uproariously at one of Tamsin’s jokes. How could this happen?

“But then,” Lucas said, ‘I suppose that won’t be a surprise to you. Will it.”

“I…” Aedan swallowed thickly. His voice came out as the barest thread. “I’m so sorry.”

Emotion flared in Lucas’ eyes, like a banked fire roaring back to life.

“You filthy - little - liar,” he said, his voice shaking. His shoulders straightened, and he took a few more steps into the middle of the room, his hands opening and closing into fists. “How dare you stand there and try to pretend you care? You worm your way in here with your pretty face and your uncle’s lies, and my father trusted you and now he’s dead.” His words built, a mounting wave of anger… and then his voice cracked. He paused, moistened his lips before he spoke again, quieter but no less furious. “And you dare stand there and snivel I’m sorry at me?”

Aedan shook his head. Fear seemed to rise up in his throat and strangle him, making him fight to get anything out. “I - I am sorry. I don’t - I don’t know what else to say.” He fidgeted with his hands in front of his chest, trying to still their shaking, and glanced at the door. Where was Robb? Why wasn’t he here? Would he get here before Lucas…  

“You’ll pay for this. You’ll all pay for this,” Lucas said. He looked almost feverish, now, still pale but his eyes alight with purpose. “I will - every Windblade will die.” His voice fell, almost hushed. “No, wait - why stop there?  Every last one of you winged monstrosities will die. We’ve put up with you infesting the hills for far too long. You’re a blight. I’ll get rid of it.”

He stared off into the distance for a moment, his attention far away. Aedan hadn’t thought his heart could sink lower in dread, but apparently it could. Lucas meant it. There was no doubt in Aedan’s mind.

His gaze sharpened, focused on Aedan again. “Do you understand me, Aedan? I’ll rid the earth of every last one of your dirty, vermin kind. Do you think I can’t?”

Aedan felt his bandages strain as his chest rose and fell. He cringed back against the wall. What had he thought, before? That words were his only tools? “Lucas, don’t - why don’t we talk? Okay? You won’t lose anything by listening to me, will you? Y-your father wouldn’t have wanted -”

Lucas exploded forwards, with a wordless snarl of anger. His fist was coming towards Aedan’s face; with a split second of terrified clarity, Aedan ducked away, throwing his left wing up to protect his face. Oh, no, why did I say that? Why did I say that?!

Lucas’ blow glanced off Aedan’s wing, and his momentum took him stumbling to the side as Aedan threw himself away. “Well, who fucking knows what Dad would have wanted?” Lucas roared, spinning to face Aedan again. “He’s dead! You killed him!”

“I didn’t!” Aedan yelped, his legs barely supporting him as he scrambled away, wing and arms out for balance. “I’m sorr-”

“I don’t care how sorry you are!” Lucas took a moment to balance himself, closing his eyes briefly and standing still. Aedan dared to hope that maybe he was calming down, maybe he was going to stop this. But when his eyes flicked open again, they were still burning with cold purpose. He began to advance, more slowly and cautiously, across the room towards Aedan. “All of you will pay eventually, but you get to be the very first. I’m going to do what my soft-hearted brother wouldn’t let me finish before. Oh, Robb?” he added, seeing Aedan’s gaze flicker towards the door. “You think he’ll save you? He’s asleep. Got the key from Donal. Some people in this castle know who their future king is, and they know vermin when they see it, too.”

Aedan’s heart sank. He had been clinging to the thought that Robb might come, he realised. Like an idiot.

He tried to circle, tried to keep out of Lucas’ reach. “This isn’t going to help anything, Lucas, please,” he begged. “I didn’t - I can’t - what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t want anything!” Lucas hissed. “What would I want from you? There’s not a shred of decency in any of your cold little monstrous hearts, is there?”

“I don’t - ”

“Why would I waste my time listening to you talk? Paltry, hollow little imitations, you lie as easily as you breathe. Don’t you?” Lucas continued, speaking over Aedan. He stepped closer, gaze intent, hands out. “There’s no morality in you, just animal cunning and self-serving -”

Lucas lunged forward. Aedan tried to dart to the side, and even though Lucas was clumsy and slow, he was hampered by his bandages.  The human caught Aedan’s shoulder with one hand, pushing Aedan backwards over his own stumbling feet, eventually driving him against the wall with a cry of pain.

He managed to strike Lucas’ hand away with his wing, and made a lunge to try to get past him. He ended up sprawling across the stone of the floor, jarring every injury he had but barely noticing in his panic.

Help, help, help, no…!

He tried to scrabble away across the floor, even knowing it was hopeless. Where was he going to run to? The room was tiny.

“Lucas - Lucas - ”

Lucas snarled. “Shut up!”

The stone floor filled Aedan’s vision; he was grabbed from behind by his left wing, and hauled up, Lucas’ grip tearing loose a handful of contour feathers that swirled as they drifted to the ground. Aedan was aware of his hands and then, worse, his feet leaving the ground - the world spun sickly around him, for real this time, as Lucas flung him out to the side.  

Slammed against the wall again, Aedan buckled at the knees.

“Please,” he gasped. His world was a whirl, his body wasn’t working properly, stone floor, the taste of blood on his tongue, impossibly strong hands throwing him around like he was made of paper and rags. “Please.”

Lucas grabbed him under the armpit and dragged him upright, his wings and back scraping against the wall. Then he kept going, lifted Aedan up, up - until his feet left the floor, kicking helplessly.

His other hand closed over Aedan’s throat.

“There. Easy,” Lucas panted, over Aedan’s choking cry. His face was twisted, ugly with hate, before Aedan lost sight of it through the haze of tears. “Nothing to you, is there, freak?”

Aedan clutched at Lucas’ wrist, desperately trying to take some of the weight off his throat. “Please,” he wheezed, the last of his air escaping. The crushing pressure around his throat pushed all other pain to the sidelines.

Lucas grip tightened. “Just shut up and die,” he spat.

Aedan choked wordlessly. He scrabbled at Lucas’ hand, pried helplessly with his fingernails - nothing. He couldn’t even lift one finger. He couldn’t think straight, his head was spinning, a whirl of pain and terror and the need for air, please, I can’t breathe!

His feet were kicking, hitting the wall behind him. He pushed weakly against Lucas’ chest, achieving less than nothing, his hands scrabbling and panicky and hopeless.

Oh my God, I’m going to die, I’m going to die, please don’t let me die!

Something in Aedan’s head shifted, with a click like a joint pushed past its limits.

There was no moment of clarity, nothing made sense, he was dizzy and suffocating and unable to think past agony and fear. Aedan knew that there was no way his arms had enough strength. But, he also knew that he was heavy enough, strong enough, had enough leverage to push Lucas away.

He drew his hands back, away from Lucas. Then, knowing that he had force behind it, he shoved at Lucas’ chest.

The crushing pressure around Aedan’s throat disappeared, and without it there was nothing holding him up anymore.  

Aedan collapsed to the ground in a heap and dragged in breath after sobbing, painful breath. Pain swelled, clamouring for his attention - sharp pain in his hands and knees from landing hard, deeper blunter pain in his throat, and a sudden, incandescent pain in his head.

For a few seconds, it was all he could do to lie there and breathe.

But, along with the pain, panic was clawing shrilly at the back of his mind. He didn’t have time to lie still. He jerked himself upright, blinking spots from his vision. Where was Lucas? He swiped at his eyes with clumsy hands, looked around.

Lucas had been thrown – Aedan gasped – he’d been thrown away from Aedan, and now he was lying crumpled at the base of the far wall of the cell.

He wasn’t moving.

Aedan sat and breathed for a few more moments before picking himself up. He stumbled and fell, and gave up on walking. It seemed to take him a very long time to make it across the room, shuffling on his hands and knees, whimpering with pain and drawing whistling breaths through a throat that hurt enough to bring fresh tears to his eyes. When he got there, Lucas still had not moved.

“…Lucas?” he rasped, tentatively.

Aedan’s brother in law was lying awkwardly, back twisted, half propped up against the wall. His face was turned down towards the floor,obscured by a fall of fair hair. There was - oh God oh God - blood matting the hair, and a smudge of blood on the wall halfway up.

Aedan put his hand out - it was shaking violently, but he managed to press his fingers against Lucas’ throat.

A pulse beat faintly under Aedan’s fingers. He let out a huge breath that turned into a whimper, and sat back.

What now? What do I do now? Aedan lowered his head into his hands and tried to calm his thoughts down, make them stop going in circles.

He grasped onto one thought as the most important, pulled it to the forefront and ignored all the others.

The tray contained bread and fruit, and a pot of very cold tea. Aedan found, to his surprise, that he was hungry. He supposed he hadn’t eaten in a while.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, and reached out cautiously for a piece of fruit. His mouth was sore from where Lucas had hit him, yesterday. He tried to only chew on the other side.

Robb watched him, unsettlingly, as he ate. Robb was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and he had deep shadows under both his eyes. Hadn’t he slept?

Aedan picked up another piece, and glanced up at Robb. “Um. Have you…?” Tentatively, he pushed the plate a little towards Robb, offering it to him.

Robb’s brows pulled close together, and he stared at Aedan as if he’d done something crazy. Then he gave a short, humourless huff of laughter. “Not right now, Aedan. Thank you, though.”

Aedan nodded, uncertainly. He searched for something to say, something that wasn’t just repeating what he’d said yesterday. Please don’t hurt me. I promise I wouldn’t have done anything to hurt the king. I wasn’t spying on you, I wouldn’t even know how to spy.

He went to pour some of the tea. Hiding behind the pot was another tiny cup of viscous liquid. “Martin gave that to me for you,” Robb said, seeing Aedan looking at it. “He said it’s for pain. Your wing looks… better.”

It hurt, viciously, throbbing at his back. Aedan didn’t say that, though; he found there was only one thing he really wanted to ask Robb.

“Is Shae back?” he whispered.

“No,” Robb said.

Lucas’ voice hissed in Aedan’s memory. Trust me, Shae’s fine. She told me where to find him. She never liked that creature anyway.

Aedan’s chest hurt. He let the piece of bread he was holding fall back to the tray. “Is she – when she does come back – will she – ”

“I don’t know,” Robb said shortly. “I haven’t spoken to her in days.”

Aedan took a deep breath. “Robb… she didn’t tell Lucas where I was, did she?” He blinked, his eyes starting to sting with tears. He knew his voice was pleading. “She wouldn’t do that. You don’t think she would, do you?”

Robb looked uncomfortable. “I don’t… Did anyone else know you were on the roof? I wouldn’t have thought to look there.” He started to get to his feet. “But I really don’t know. Look, I’ll just leave the tray.”

Aedan sniffled, and gave up on holding back the tears. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Robb had as good as said that, yes, he thought Shae would have told Lucas where to find him. They couldn’t both of them be wrong about her, could they?

Maybe Shae really would be glad to be rid of Aedan, he thought, listening to the sound of Robb closing and locking the door behind him. Was Aedan just really, really dense? Had he missed it? He remembered Tamsin telling him once that humans thought wingfolk were storybook monsters. So Shae probably hadn’t wanted to marry Aedan, maybe she had thought of him as a monster at first, but she’d changed her mind, hadn’t she?

Hadn’t she?  

Well, maybe that changed when people like you took her father, he thought. Maybe that made her realise she doesn’t trust you at all.

He wondered what had happened. Uncle Aelric had wanted the treaty, he hadn’t wanted to keep fighting with the humans. He’d told Aedan that enough people had lost their lives – and Aedan had nodded, a little awed at having his powerful uncle speak to him so seriously. What had changed?

In the end, Aedan drank the little cup of pain medication. As he’d suspected, within fifteen minutes he found his eyelids drooping and his train of thought slowing.

Well, this is useless, he thought, lying listlessly on his front, propping his chin on his folded arms. I mean, it doesn’t hurt as much, but I’m not going to be able to do anything.

Like what? What are you going to do that the drugs are stopping you from doing?

He turned his face to the side, feeling hopeless. Nothing. He could do nothing. He hadn’t even tried to talk to Robb while he was here, because he was an idiot! If he was going to be locked up in a room and only be able to speak to Robb once a day, he should have found some way to work with that. He should have tried harder to get people to listen to him. Some token of peace you are.

If he had magic, like Tamsin, he would be able to get out of here. But you don’t, do you? Because you didn’t try hard enough.

One year earlier

Aedan leaned forward over his cupped hands, lip caught between his teeth, concentrating fiercely.

Nothing happened. He sighed and let his hands drop. “It isn’t working,” he said sadly.

Aedan and Tamsin sat under a tree, the breeze stirring their hair and Aedan’s feathers. Tamsin had her skirts tucked up around her crossed legs, revealing sturdy leather boots.

Tamsin caught his hands in hers and brought them together again. “Aedan,” she chided. “Heavens, we’ve been at this barely half an hour and you’re ready to give up?”

Aedan ducked his head, abashed. “Well, yeah, half an hour and nothing’s happened,” he said. “I thought you said it came easily to us?”

“Easily compared to humans,” Tamsin corrected. She flashed a smile that put dimples in her cheeks. “Did you think it would happen instantaneously, Aedan? It doesn’t work, and it doesn’t work, and it doesn’t work – up until it does! Keep trying.”

Aedan grinned sheepishly. “Okay,” he said, leaning forward again. He focused on the air in between his cupped palms, and willed a flame to appear.

Nothing.

“I just wish I knew what I was supposed to be doing,” he said, after another minute of fruitless concentration. “You said to concentrate, but concentrate on what? What does magic feel like?”

Tamsin leaned back, supporting herself with her hands in the grass. “It’s… hard to explain,” she said. “What does it feel like to use magic when you fly?”

Aedan cocked his head, frowning.

Aedan knew that his wingspan stretched a little over five feet from tip to tip. But, when he was flying, he also knew that they were ten feet across, or twelve. That they could grow and shrink with as much thought as he gave folding or spreading them.

“It doesn’t really feel like anything special,” he said, puzzled. “It’s just like… I don’t know, I decide that it’s going to happen, and then it does. It’s kind of like using a muscle?”

She snapped her fingers. “There you go!” she said, beaming. “That’s a good description! It’ll probably feel similar to that! Like using a muscle you didn’t realise you had.”

“Well, that doesn’t help at all!” Aedan protested, laughing. “Will you show me again?”

Tamsin held her hand out in between them, palm up. After a moment, a pale green flame appeared, flickering and dancing about an inch above her skin.

Aedan bent his neck around to examine it from different angles, and frowned. “I mustn’t be doing it right.”

“We’ll try again next time I visit,” Tamsin promised. She uncrossed her legs, hopped back up onto her feet and dusted her hands off. “You’ll get it eventually. You aren’t going to give up on me, are you, Aedan?” Her raised eyebrow was a challenge.

“No!” Aedan said indignantly. He scrambled up too. “Of course not!”

A few months earlier

“Aedan,” Phylla said.

“Yes?” Aedan said, his fingers gently smoothing the secondary feathers on her left wing where it was spread out enough to lie in his lap.

“If you do agree to this plan of Tamsin’s,” Phylla said slowly. “You know that you –”

He sighed. “Mama,” he said, a little shortly. “I said I’d think about it. I’m not going to jump into this without thinking of everything. Okay?”

Her wing moved under his hands, as she shifted position. “I know. I know you’re taking it seriously. That’s not what I was going to say.”

He moved to the next feather. “Well, what were you going to say?”

She held still. “You need to know that you can always come home,” she said quietly. “Always, no matter what, you can come back here to me. They’ll tell you that you can’t – they’ll say it’s a contract, they’ll say you made a commitment – but you can. It’s what I did. If you’ve done your best and it didn’t work out, if you aren’t happy, you can always come home.”

Aedan stared down at his mother’s wing. Her feathers were the same colour as his, deep brown. Big enough and strong enough to block out anything the world might throw at him. He used to wonder whether his wings would ever be that big.

“Sure, Mama,” he said softly. “I know.”

Aedan turned his head to watch the door, feeling sick with shame and misery, and the stupid pain drug. Part of him wished he had listened to his mother; she had thought this was a bad idea from the start and it looked like she had been right. 

But Aedan had thought he was helping. He hadn’t wanted to give up. And look where it had got him.

He was perched on the grey stone roof, not too far from the window into the room he was still having trouble thinking of as his. It was nice weather today; he might go flying later, although he’d promised Shae he wouldn’t go far.

Like she’d notice, he thought sadly.

Logically, it didn’t make sense to feel less lonely up here than he did inside. But he was so sick of creeping apologetically around the wide corridors and echoing stone halls of the humans’ castle, worn out by Shae’s silence and the strained politeness of her brothers.

He had a sinking feeling he was failing at his task. But, as far as the humans were concerned, his task just seemed to be being here. Like one of the tapestries or statuettes in the niches of the castle. Oh yes, that, that’s to commemorate our peace treaty with the wingfolk, it’s out here because nobody wanted it in their room.

He knew he was being self-pitying and did his best to shake himself out of it. I’m sure the household will cheer up once the King is back from his journey. And Shae will be here tonight! You can ask her about that book you were reading. And she’ll tell you about her work.

It would just take time for people to warm up to Aedan, that was all.

A snatch of noise was carried to him on the wind, and he looked up. Putting the book aside, he folded his wings, got up on his knees and peered over the peak of the roof at the courtyard down below. That was the third group of horsemen he’d seen arrive in the last few hours. What was going on? He could hear raised voices, and another group of soldiers was riding out the gates.

“Hey!”

Aedan twisted around, his wings flaring out to steady himself. A stray curl flapped in his eyes, and he pushed it behind his ear.

“I know you’re out there, bird, it’s no use pretending!” The voice was made harsh by yelling into the wind. Whoever it was must be just inside Aedan’s window.

“Coming,” Aedan called, guiltily. He really shouldn’t have been hiding out here for so long - they sounded angry. He clambered down over the stone, tucking the book under one arm.

“Sorry,” he said, a little breathlessly as he ducked in through the window. “Were you looking for me? I’m sorry, I – Oh. What are you all doing in here?”

Donal, the only one of the officers in the guard who hadn’t gone with the King’s party, was standing in the middle of the room – presumably he was the person who’d called Aedan.  There were two other humans, too, one on either side of the window. Household guards in the family’s colours. Aedan looked between them, puzzled, and then stepped down off the sill, resettling his wings.

“I didn’t mean to put you to trouble,” he said, picking his words carefully in the foreign tongue. He wondered anxiously if Donal had had guardsmen scouring the castle for him for a long time.

Donal nodded at one of them, a quick jerk of his head.  

Aedan opened his mouth to ask what they had wanted to speak with him about, but he didn’t get a word out. Something struck him across the side of the face, hard enough to snap his head back and fill it with pain, hard enough to knock him sideways and into one of the guardsmen.

He struggled to get back to his feet, forgetting himself and beating his wings for balance, trying to put the pieces together and work out what had happened. Some sort of accident, he thought for the first few seconds; he blinked up at the other guardsman, the one Donal had nodded at. He fell? He…

He hit me?

The man behind Aedan hissed in pain and grabbed at Aedan’s wing, his fingers rough, trying to forcibly fold it without really understanding how it bent. Aedan cried out and tried to pull away.

“Give me a hand, will you?” The words weren’t addressed to him.

The one who’d hit Aedan put the object he was holding away – Aedan didn’t see what it was, but it must be the source of the trickle of warmth Aedan could feel running down his temple – and grabbed Aedan’s flailing arm, using it to haul him upright.

“D-don’t!” Aedan stuttered, the first word that struggled to his lips through the utter confusion and pain. His head was a persistent flare of pain. There seemed to be hands everywhere – he tried to swat away one of the hands on his wing, but his forearm was grasped and pinned back. “Don’t – what’s going on? Let go!”

“That was easier than I thought,” Donal said, from where he was standing in the middle of the room.

One of the guardsmen laughed. “I can’t believe he just came when you called!”

“Good thing, too, we’d never have got hold of it out there,” the other grunted.  

The humans were so much bigger; taller, heavier, stronger. Aedan had always known that, but knowing was one thing; being held half off the ground by hands big enough to wrap completely around his elbows was another.

“What’s going on?” Aedan repeated, his voice high and wavering and bewildered. He couldn’t think – couldn’t form words fast enough. “D-Donal? Why did you – why are you – you hit me?”

Donal snorted. “Oh, dear. And people always said these bird folk were smart,” he remarked to the room at large. “Let’s go. Main hall, Lucas said.” He turned away, gesturing for the others to follow.

“Wait – why are you doing this?” Aedan pleaded. The warmth of blood was beginning to drip down his brow, a glint of red just out of his vision. He couldn’t move his arms to wipe it away or touch the throbbing pain on his head.  One of his wings was crushed against the guardsman’s body, the other was folded up so his arm could be pressed behind his back.

There was no answer from any of the humans. The two guardsmen shared a second of conference over his head, and then one of them took the lead in pulling Aedan towards the door. He nudged the fallen book out of the way with one booted foot as he passed.

Aedan tried weakly to pull away from his captors again; one of them twisted his arm viciously until he yelped. “There’ll be no flying away for you,” he hissed in Aedan’s ear. “Not in here. You try and get away from me and see how far you get.”

It was walk or be dragged; Aedan limped along between the two men as they took him out of his room and followed Donal down the hall towards the stairs.

There had to be some – misunderstanding. Someone would sort this out. He licked his lips and tried again. “Donal, s-something’s gone wrong. Just - just talk to – ” To who? The King was gone, Shae was out for the day – “Just talk to Lucas! Or Robb! You can’t –”

“Got to be better than nothing. How different can it be?” The second voice was deeper; Aedan recognised it as the guard who’d carried him in here. He shivered and fought the urge to shuffle back and hide in the corner.  Robb didn’t seem to be there, which frightened Aedan a little.

“I work on people,” the first voice huffed, sounding offended. “I know next to nothing about birds. He thinks its wing is broken? Is that even fixable? Don’t they have hollow bones?”

“There you go, you know something.”

A pause. Aedan wondered if the two of them realised that he could hear them. Robb had promised to send someone to treat his wing. He watched the door, feeling his own heartbeat racing under his ribcage.

“My cousin used to keep birds. Pigeons.”

“Oh? And what did he do when they broke a wing?”

The guard chuckled. “Uh, I think he wrung their necks whenever pretty much anything went wrong.”

“Charming. I’ll tell Prince Robb that’s the backup plan, shall I? Ugh.”

Aedan caught his breath, and tried to stop tears from welling up in his eyes again. Did they realise he was listening? Did they care?

It was a stupid thing to be upset about, because it was just a careless, callous remark, not even said with any real malice. Compared to having Lucas, who he’d tried hard to like, kick him savagely and call him an animal… this should have been meaningless. After crying himself into silence and coping with the horrible aching throb of his wing for hours and hours, he shouldn’t have the energy to be hurt by it.

Somehow he did.

“You’re the healer,” the guard said. Finally the door clicked and opened. “Figure something out.”

The peevish voice turned out to be a young man in a stained healer’s smock, with disordered fair hair and shadows around his eyes. He set his bag down on the floor and frowned down at Aedan.

Aedan swiped at the tears with one sleeve, suddenly ashamed at the thought of them realising he’d overheard their conversation. “H-hello,” he said, his voice wobbly. “A-are you… did Robb…”

He braced his hands against the floor and started the laborious, painful process of getting to his feet, but the healer clicked his tongue and started forward. “No, no. Stay there and let’s have a look.”

Aedan lowered himself back down to the ground. He felt awkward, remaining silent, but he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He bowed his head and let his hair fall around his face to partially hide it, letting his broken right wing hang where it was. His hands still shaking against the cold stone of the floor, he braced himself against the healer’s touch.

The healer smelled unpleasant, sweat and blood overpowering strong soap. Maybe it was unfair to judge him on that; Aedan knew he himself was a disaster, dirty sticky feathers and red-rimmed eyes, blood matting the side of his temple.

Firm, clinical fingers ran along the muscles of his wing, making him flinch. He whimpered involuntarily when they found the location of the break and probed at it.

“Hmm,” the healer said dispassionately. Then he grasped either side of the break – Aedan gave a strangled yelp and he ignored it - and shifted the two pieces of bone, testing for movement. Bone grated.

Aedan’s ears roared. Pain seized control of his wing again, making it spasm and throw itself backwards, jerking out of the healer’s grip. He screamed and doubled over forwards, knees on the floor, both wings raised and stiff. “That – oh – that hurt!” he cried, once he could find words. His head spun.

“Yeah,” the healer sighed, sitting back and folding his arms with a rustle of cloth.  “That sure is a broken bone. The question is: How am I going to splint and bandage it with all those feathers in the way?”

“Could cut them,” the guard volunteered, from where they had been leaning against the door. “Or pluck them out.”

Aedan, pressing his palms against the floor and trying not to retch, gulped a horrified breath. “No! Do not!”

“Calm down,” the healer said, sounding tired and exasperated. “It could be worse. Skin’s not broken. Both bones, I think, but only in one place. It needs a splint. Do you know how best to bandage it?”

Aedan took one gasping, deep breath, and then another. He lifted his head and looked over at the healer. He was regarding Aedan’s splayed wings with cold, thoughtful eyes.

“You – you just have to hold it closed,” Aedan croaked. “Like… when it’s folded, just wind the bandage around it.”

The healer sighed heavily. He got up onto his knees, pulled his stained leather bag towards him and began to pull things out of it. “And when would I have had cause to bandage a wing,” he muttered to himself. “Both bones… hell, is it like a wrist? How am I supposed to know?”

Aedan swallowed, licked his lips, and carefully eased himself upright, gasping and flinching every time he accidentally moved the wing. It hurt so much worse now – I thought healers were supposed to make you feel better? If you’re going to pull it out straight, it’s going to hurt worse again!  He watched the healer measuring something out of a dark glass bottle.

“I can – draw you – a diagram,” he said haltingly.

The healer nodded, and among the things he was fishing out of the bag, he found a folded-up square of paper. “Okay, do that, then. But drink this first.”

Aedan blinked at the tiny cup of viscous liquid the healer shoved towards him and seriously considered refusing. Aedan’s natural inclination to trust someone who called themselves a healer was struggling against the reality in front of him. Who knew what might be in it?

“Or don’t. No skin off my nose,” the healer sniffed. “You like being in pain?”

So Aedan held his breath, tipped the foul liquid down his throat, and nearly threw it straight back up again. Once his stomach had stopped rebelling, he wiped a hand across his mouth, drew his legs up underneath him, and pulled the paper and pencil towards himself.

He sketched out a rough representation of how to wind a figure-of-eight bandage around the wing, and more around the chest to immobilise it against his back. His hands were shaking.

The healer studied his diagram and nodded briefly. He gestured the guard over with a curt motion, and told Aedan to take his shirt off and lie belly-down on the floor.

Aedan didn’t want to. He wanted to leave, to run, to back away from these tall strong humans who were going to do something else to him that hurt. They’re helping you, he told himself firmly. You know you’ll feel better once it’s set and isn’t dragging around everywhere. Grow up and get it over with.

“Do you think…” he asked hesitantly as he struggled with the fastenings behind his back. His voice sounded thin and desperately frightened. “I kn-know it’ll take a long time, but… but… Once it heals, it’ll still work, right? I’ll be able to fly again? It won’t be ruined forever, will it?” He blinked back tears of panic. “Please?”

The healer breathed out sharply through his nose. “How should I know? Lie down, and for heaven’s sake, hold still.”

Right. Right. If you want it to heal well you have to hold still. Aedan, his eyes squeezed shut, did his best not to flinch, not to throw the healer off or pull away.

The guard’s hands pressed down on Aedan’s shoulders. His heart was hammering, and he rested his head on his forearm against the floor. He clenched and relaxed his hands in an effort to stop them shaking. Up close, the healer’s sweat and blood smell was stronger, and that combined with whatever potion he’d drunk was making Aedan’s stomach roll.

The healer’s hands took hold of his wing, and with quick, ruthless, efficient movements, wrenched the broken pieces back into alignment.

Aedan screamed into his arm, every muscle in his body tense. He didn’t black out, like he had when it broke; but for a few long, horrible seconds, it was a struggle to be aware of anything else but pain. He panted into his arm, face wet with tears, while the healer pinned the broken bones straight against the stiff wooden splint and the rest of the wing and wrapped the bandage around to hold it all together.

“All right, sit up, now,” he heard over the roaring in his ears and the sound of his own breathing. “That doesn’t look too bad, does it? Should hold.”

Why did he still have to keep doing things? “It’s done?” he whimpered. “Y-you don’t have to mm-move it anymore? Please…”

After another few moments, the guard unceremoniously pulled Aedan up off the floor and sat him up so that the healer could go around and around his chest with the bandages, locking the wing into its folded position against his back.

Then they eased him back down, to lie on his face on the floor. He was only half listening to their conversation as they did it, but he gathered that they were about to go.

I should thank them, he thought hazily, the room seeming to rock and spin around him. Even though they only did it because Robb told them to. Even though it had hurt. Even though Aedan desperately wanted a real healer who knew what they were doing. “Thank you,” he said. “For – for helping me. Thanks.”

They left without responding. After a few seconds of feeble, circular thought, Aedan realised why; he had spoken in his own language, not theirs. They probably didn’t even realise he’d been trying to say ‘thank you’.