Harbor (On the Wind #3)

23. Orestes

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

ORESTES

F or the first time since I arrived in Urial, it couldn’t wait any longer.

My very bones had started to ache with the need to shift and fly. To stretch my wings to the sky and feel the air rushing through my feathers. I had never much considered it before, whether shifting was something I needed to do regularly. I did it because I wanted to; because I loved to fly. Because there was nothing more free in the world than spreading my wings and leaping into the air, escaping into the sky.

But in Urial, I’d been acutely aware of the fact that the people there didn’t know about my shifting. More than that, I couldn’t tell them or let them learn about it through negligence like simply going up to the roof and disappearing, leaving only a pile of clothing behind.

However, staying in Tybalt’s room did change things a little bit. Unlike the rooms I’d been inhabiting, Tybalt’s rooms had an enormous balcony that faced the mountains. It was a beautiful view, yes, and I’d have been envious of it regardless, but in this situation, well... it was useful.

It was high enough on the castle that I was sure no one could see onto it from below, so I could simply strip out of my clothes and shift right there. Then hopefully, Tybalt and the servants wouldn’t come out, find my clothes piled to one side, and remove them before I returned.

It seemed unlikely. Tybalt had ridden out for the day earlier, bemoaning that in a couple of weeks, it would be too late for it. Just the thought had made me desperate for an escape.

But given the way my bones creaked and ached with the shift, I had needed to do it. It hadn’t been a real choice.

How was this even going to work, long-term? I couldn’t hide what I was forever. I didn’t want to, but more than that, it simply wasn’t possible.

It had only been a few months, but the shift was physically painful because I’d put it off so long.

I resolved to write home about it, asking for advice from someone who knew better than I, and for the moment, took wing above the castle and toward the mountains.

It was going to be a problem, though, easy to tell because of the number of people who stared and pointed at me as I flew. As in all cases, I was too fucking big and ungainly, noticeable simply for existing in the presence of others. It didn’t help that not only was I the largest sort of eagle Nemedans were aware of, but I was an exceptionally large example of the species. Brett had once joked that even as a bird I was like a creature from a children’s tale, who could pluck a baby from its mother’s arms and carry it away to feed to my young.

Not that I’d ever had an urge to do so, not having any young to feed, but well... still, it meant I made people nervous. Like always.

I flew away from the castle and its surrounding town, toward the mountains. Away from humanity, hoping for peace.

It was so very reminiscent of my childhood, trying to escape the Eagle towns and find solace by myself, I half expected the urge to dive into the rocky cliffs above to overtake me.

But no. As soon as I was over a snowy mountain pass, it was... well, the turmoil in my brain calmed to a low buzz, only mildly annoying instead of overwhelming. The thoughts drifted by more slowly, leaving me able to process them instead of wanting to cover my ears and scream at the maelstrom of problems and issues and even just happenings.

Was it any wonder that Tybalt seemed constantly on edge, living like that all the time?

As though thinking of him were a magical act, a moment later I caught sight of red hair glinting in the sunlight, and that enormous horse of his, one of the biggest I’d ever seen. Both of them plodding up the mountain path, slow and steady, as though needing the same respite from humanity that I did.

Of course. He had to have an escape. A man who ran away at the slightest sign of a serious conversation had to have a way to escape reality. Riding that great beast was his way of flying, no doubt.

For a moment, I wished I could teach him to fly.

He’d be wonderful at it, I had no doubt. He’d be something small and fast and clever, just like he was as a person. Like the lady Esmerelda’s sparrow. Petite and beautiful.

As I watched him on his enormous beast of a horse, though, movement nearby caught my attention. For a moment, I feared that he was going to run across hunting wolves or some other wild threat, but no. It was worse than that.

It was a man, lying in wait.

I wasn’t one of those varieties of bird like Brett’s hawk, who could see tiny details like mice breathing while high overhead, but my vision as an eagle was much better than it was as a human, and suddenly, every detail of the scene stood out in stark clarity.

The man, all in black, heavy layers to keep warm as he lay in the brush, waiting for Tybalt to come close. A knife glinting in his hand.

Without thinking, I dove, screeching my loudest, trying to move his attention from Tybalt to me. This was not allowed. Tybalt was not to be injured. He was an innocent.

The man fumbled, not because of me and my screech—at least not directly. No, Tybalt’s horse spooked at the combination of my loudness and the sneaking bastard, rearing up and making the man with the knife stagger back.

Just enough for me to dive in. I barely slowed my descent so that I didn’t break my legs as I landed on them, shifting into my human form as my feet hit the ground, lashing out at the bastard who would attack an unarmed man riding in the mountains.

The man lunged forward, and I twisted. There was no avoiding the knife—it was going in someone, and better me than Tybalt. Better right there than two inches higher.

I leaned into it, grappling with the man whose eyes went wide and fearful.

In Urial, it seemed, they didn’t teach men how to take a blade.