She took his hand, where he held her gingerly around the waist, and kissed his
palm. She leaned back against him, and he held her.
A stream gushed between the gnarled roots of trees, beside the nearly invisible
trail.
‘We should stop and let the horses rest,’ Aristarchus said. ‘And rest,
ourselves.’
‘There’s a clearing a little way ahead,’ Wess said. ‘It has grass. They eat
grass, don’t they?’
Aristarchus chuckled. ‘They do, indeed.’
When they reached the clearing. Quartz jumped down, stumbled, groaned, and
laughed. ‘It’s a long time since I rode horseback,’ she said. She helped
Aristarchus off. Chan dismounted and stood testing his legs after the long ride.
Wess sat where she was. She felt as if she were looking at the world through
Lythande’s secret sphere.
The sound of great wings filled the cold dawn. Satan and Aerie landed in the
centre of the clearing and hurried towards them.
Wess twined her fingers in the skewbald’s striped mane and slid off his back.
She leaned against his shoulder, exhausted, taking short shallow breaths. She
could hear Chan and Quartz greeting the flyers. But Wess could not move.
‘Wess?’
She turned slowly, still holding the horse’s mane. Satan smiled down at her. She
was used to flyers being lean, but they were sleek: Satan was gaunt, his ribs
and hips sharp beneath his skin. His short fur was dull and dry, and besides
the scars on his back he had marks on his ankles, and around his throat, where
he had been bound.
‘Oh, Satan -‘ She embraced him, and he enfolded her in his wings.