Page 159 of Under Restless Skies

I close my eyes as I drink it, relieved to have some liquid in my throat. I move my hand to squeeze his hair some more, but he holds it in place.

“Slower,” he says. “Or you’ll get sick.”

I catch the drops of water falling from his long strands, stopping when I feel that I’m able to talk again.

Thunder rumbles outside, and I say, “Tell me how to call the staff.”

“Imagine it in your hand.”

That doesn’t make any sense. “Can’t you do it?”

He shakes his head. “I gave it to you.”

“Well, I can’t⁠—”

“Summon it.” Desperation coats his voice. “If you want to protect the little ones, you’ll need to call the staff. I’ll help you.” He holds my wrists, beyond the shackles, his thumb pressing against my pulse. “Close your eyes. Feel it.”

His touch is gentle but ignites a current inside me as his voice reaches my ears like a balsam healing my wounds. Something in me shifts. An odd surge of power. A crackling electricity, as if a storm was about to form inside me. It’s the mysterious magic I used when I pushed Felien, the same magic I used to block this rider’s magic, and it’s running through my veins now.

With eyes closed, I imagine the staff in the rider’s hands, imagine him using it to free Ava and Vos. I see the wings molded on its edge, the crystal on its bottom, and even feel its warmth, its hum.

I open my eyes. No staff. That part doesn’t surprise me. What does is the rider’s expression, the certainty in it, a certainty that makes me believe I can do it. This time, I appeal to my strongest sense, the one that has been numbed in the castle.

I’m back on the island and see the rider approaching in the heavy-falling rain. The ocean and the rainwater are the dominant smells, but now I can identify his hair, a subtle floral fragrance, his clothes—and the object he’s holding. A metal tang hits my nose, and I realize the artifact is coated in silver, even if its interior remains mysterious. Among all the overpowering scents, I focus on the staff, then imagine its smell here, in this room.

A clank beside me startles me. It’s the staff, falling on the wooden floor. I can barely believe what I’m seeing.

He glances at the artifact, not at all surprised to see it. “Can you give it to me? Unlike you, I know how to wield it.”

“Sure.” I blink, still confused. “But how?”

“Say it’s mine.”

“It’s yours. I didn’t ask for it.”

“I had no choice,” he gruffs.

He lets go of my arms, and yet I still feel that hum within me, that power, that connection. His hand clutches the staff, then he lifts it—and points it at me.

My heart stills, ready for the deadly strike.

His eyes narrow as if he was focusing, then one shackle shudders against my wrist and springs open. I stare at it, dumbfounded, while the rider does the same to the other hand, freeing me.

I stagger upright, grabbing the wall, my legs weak from the hours of lying or sitting on the wooden floor.

“Take me to them,” he says, using that calm tone again to ask me the impossible.

“I don’t know where they are. I think they were moved. Wherever they were taken, there will be tons of guards.”

His gaze sharpens. “You can feel where they are. Take me there. I can deal with a few guards.”

My first instinct is to doubt his words, but he was right that I could conjure the staff. Can I truly sense the hatchlings? Maybe. I found the room with their eggs. I close my eyes, thinking about Vos’ adorable grunts and Ava’s cute little face. I see them in the same room as before, but I also sense the presence of dozens of guards.

“They haven’t been moved—but they’re heavily guarded.”

“Same place?” He raises an eyebrow, conveniently ignoring the second part of what I told him.

“Yes.”