Windswept (The Airborne Saga) (31 page)

“I’m okay.
For now.”

“No, it’s going to get worse. It’s going to get much worse
,” he insisted.

“Mason!” She chided before he covered her with the blankets again. “I’m assuming we somehow escaped a warzone, are now fugitives, and we haven’t seen each other for a week. Why is that the only thing you can think about now?”

She didn’t quite mean to direct towards the fight he and she had been involved in the last time they were together, but it came out like that anyways. His green eyes softened and his chin dropped to hide an indiscernible expression.

“Avery…”
His voice had become hoarse but dropped off before it could waver.

“Look. I didn’t come for you contingent on us staying together longer. And I know I’m not supposed to be running to rescue you. I think I didn’t make it worse this time. And you rescued me that many times more so…” She didn’t know where she was going
with her words but she blurted them out anyway.

“Avery, stop talking.” His fingers went to her lips effectively silencing her. “I reacted too quickly. I shouldn’t have told you to leave. I’m just not good at this. I’m going to figure something else out.”

That was if he even got his kingdom back. That was a subject neither of them would broach as if it was an unspoken commandment.

Mason moved his fingers but let them shift from her lips to her chin and neck. They ended on the collar bone and lingered there. Avery leaned into the touch, the sensations of
a person’s warmth a welcome change, and placed her cheek up against his chest. His heart beat steadily underneath his flimsy sweater.

“So now what?”
she asked him.

“We’re safe
here for now so you need to rest,” he emphasized the rest aspect, but she ignored him.

Edging
forward, she had every intention for his arms to be around her and she ended up on his lap. His hand went to her waist and pulled her closer. His face nuzzled into her hair until she shifted backwards and stole a kiss. Mason met her lips without protest. There was no urgency, no fear, and no desperate passion involved. It was gentle and natural.

Avery moved again, this time pulling him along to lie back on the blankets. He followed only slowly. That’s when she gave him a Cheshire grin.

“I know you’re Prince and all, but I will tell you what to do,” she teased waiting for a reaction. He didn’t give her the typical one.

“You’re crazy.”

“You love me that way.”

“Yea
h.”

No protest again this time. Avery’s heart sped up but she didn’t let her mind start grabbing at straws. She went with it when he kissed her again. This time his hands escaped to slid
e down her sides. She grabbed the bottom of his lace sweater and yanked the itchy fleece straight off. He planted kisses all over her but they were soft, too gentle. Avery grabbed his collar and yanked him back up to her lips. Mason reacted by slipping the torn shirt off and letting it crumple to the ground beside them. The sensation of his warm skin connecting with hers heated her body to the core. She gasped involuntary. Before he could slip away, she held onto him. Their lips connected again. Avery wouldn’t allow him to budge. She was tired of waiting. And she would never get another chance.

Mason obliged. No more knight on the white horse arguing the noble side of the debate. But then he was never quite the knight on the white horse either. Avery couldn’t attest to exactly how long they’d stayed wrapped together
, but when they’d broken apart the sun had actually set. She let out a long content breath.

It would have been a perfect moment to drift off to sleep, preserve the peaceful moment before it was destroyed. But the clock kept ticking and her time threatened to run out. Avery knew it the moment she shifted to grab the blankets and every muscle in her body protested. She leaned back immediately and let out a breath. Her mind went to the threatened symptoms. Did she feel confused? Could she just be too confused to even
recognize being confused?

“Mason,
” she said reluctantly. His name left her lips simply enough even if it took some effort to say. “What are you going to do? About your home? Your throne?”

Mason’s face changed from the relaxed expression to something more pained.

“I have to go back. My people, my followers, they need me.”

She k
new he wouldn’t be running away—something she admired. Mason always bit the bullet when it counted. And she needed that stamina to hold up for what she’d have to ask him to do. But first, she repeated what the islanders had told her.

“You need to show them you’re alive. If you’re alive the loyalist
s will rally around you, right? They said that no army in the world could really take over the harpie population if they had a leader.”

“Yes, I need help but I don’t need a war. I need to cut to the source. I need the capitol back and when I have it, I would have cut the heart out
of the rebel cause. It’ll wilt and falter.” He stood quickly and his wings opened with flurry. “I can call out to my people. Rally the soldiers and police that haven’t already been taken by the rebels. The fighters. The holdouts.”

Avery tried to sit up. Her stomach hurt but she made it there.

“If you try to call out, won’t they come for you?”

Mason’s green eyes landed sharply on her.

“Yes. But that’s why I have to go to the capitol and do it. I’m not afraid that my supporters will meet me and we will confront the rebels on the grounds that matter the most.” His words were firm and absolute. This was exactly why Mason was Prince, for even if it was unbeknownst to him or not, he’d never been cut out more for a war in his life. Except for one thing.

“I’ll come. You don’t need to carry me but I’ll come.”

“Avery.”

“You heard the doctor! There’s nothing anyone can do. Mason, we’ve looked up everything we could. Consulted every expert and followed every lead.
The doctor never figured out how to stabilize the elements and we don’t know how to get rid of the magic besides by my death. And putting me up in some room alone isn’t how I want to spend any time I have left.”

He
gave her a blood-chilling glare.

“So you’re asking me to bring and watch you die. Like a dog on the field of battle.”

“You have no other choice, Mason! You keep thinking you can do something, but you can’t protect me from this. At least let me help. I can use whatever magic’s left that will manifest, and if there’s nothing more at least, the rebels are afraid of me. We’ll need every bit of support we can get. I’m an idiot when it comes to PR but I did make one impression. Fear. They’ll follow me because they’re afraid of what I can do.”

He didn’t have an answer. She gave her last shot.

“I’m scared, Mason. I’m really scared and I don’t want to go curl up alone somewhere and think about what’s coming next. I’d take anything over it and fighting alongside you is one of those things. That is the last thing you can do to give me any peace of mind. And we’ve always tried to give that to each other. I know you wanted to be the knight on the white horse, but I’m not a total damsel in distress. We are stronger working together. Let’s be strong now.”

No words followed. Because it was apparent they both knew she was right.

Twenty Four

              She curled her arms around herself but it did little to hide the trembling. Luckily everyone had been sufficiently distracted. Mason stood in the center of the room, broadcasting over an amulet device. She didn’t quiz him too much on the how and why, instead concentrating on holding herself together. The area around them was fairly empty. The morning had come and dawn broke through the clouds. The atmosphere was chilly but comfortable, and a gust came off the ocean bringing the salty smell with it.

             
Ironically, they’d flown back to the very island where Patrick had attempted to kill her and Adalyn had been held hostage. Mason had needed to move them and figured they’d hide in plain sight. The plan seemed reckless, but he’d been correct. It was barren and every building on the small island was at their disposal.

             
“They’re bunkering down on the capitol,” Mason had said in regards to it. “They know we will be coming soon.”

             
His words were even more impassioned now as he stirred fury in his unseen followers. “I am your Prince, and I am alive” was the tag line and probably all they needed. But he rallied them anyways and encouraged them to fight the rebels from their land with a grace that belonged in some Hollywood movie.

             
Mason came back in, but she didn’t notice him standing near her for a full minute. In that time, it was clear his eyes had done a cursory glance of her and the knot in his brow indicated that he didn’t like what he saw.

             
“Say it.” Avery growled. His arms reached out first and embraced her close to him like it’d become the most natural thing in the world.

             
“You look like hell.”

             
“Well, now that this is out there, how are we going about this?” she asked back. Avery didn’t need a mirror or a map to know her looks weren’t encouraging and spelled bad news, but she also wanted to keep Mason’s mind off of it.

             
“Take a seat. We have to give them some time to show.” Mason gestured towards a white rocking chair in the corner. Avery sent it a long skeptical look before she did. This place had once been her and Adalyn’s prison, but where they stood now seemed disturbingly homely. The chairs sat near both a fireplace and a window for the gust and heat at once. Intricate ribbons had been tied as decoration and photo frames of unrecognizable people sat on the end stands.

             
She settled in to the surprisingly soft cushion and leaned back. Mason had made a vague gesture for patience and headed outside again. When he returned, he wasn’t alone.

             
“You’re late,” she teased immediately. Leon had walked in on Mason’s heels. Scrapped up and covered in dirt, he hadn’t walked in with a smile. But he did offer her a minor taunting bow when she called him out.

             
“Too much like a queen already,” he said.

             
“Are we ready to go?” Avery asked the second time, but couldn’t yet will herself out of the cushions. “This place is creeping me out. Did Patrick kill the people who lived here?”

             
It was a valid question. One that she’d been pondering for a while, but didn’t realize it until recently.