Marciano and Winnigan leapt from the Shadow Hawk before Seradon finished landing, and they converged on the Fire Eaters, systematically cuffing them with null bands. In less than two minutes, the whole misfit crew was bound and seated on the dirt, each with a recording sphere anchored near their mouths. Velasquez recited their charges.

  Seradon sauntered toward the dilapidated basket, her gaze skimming the growing crowd, Audrey and Dahlia, O’Hara and Xinh, and Quinn before landing on me. Sympathy softened her eyes for a moment, and when she glanced toward Grant and Nathan handcuffed at his feet, a satisfied smile tipped the corner of her mouth.

  “I didn’t have a choice,” Nathan mumbled.

  “What’s that?” O’Hara asked.

  “I had to take the phoenix eggs,” Nathan said, louder now. Tears glittered in his eyes and his bottom lip trembled. “The Fire Eaters forced me.”

  Apollo’s head snapped up. “You lying snitch—”

  “How?” O’Hara asked Nathan.

  “That one, Apollo, he said they would kill me if I didn’t steal the eggs. They forced the doppelganger spell on me. I had no choice.”

  “Fascinating,” Seradon said. She hopped the railing and strode across the broken deck, positioning herself close to the recording sphere attached to Nathan, then sidestepping to align herself under Audrey’s sphere too. “Because your buddy, Apollo, claims you promised him an impressive sum of money to pick you up today.”

  “That’s absurd. I don’t have money. Kylie is the heiress. She’s the one who could pay—”

  “He mentioned something about a book you’re writing, one you’ve been bragging is going to make you rich.”

  Nathan sputtered, his gaze darting to Dahlia. The editor’s steely gaze held no sympathy.

  Seradon plucked the enchanted buckle from Nathan’s belt, holding it up to the light. Twisting it, she scrutinized the spell, then handed it to O’Hara.

  “That’s the doppelganger spell?” she asked.

  “One of the most sophisticated I’ve seen,” he confirmed.

  “It’s her work.” Seradon jutted her chin toward the captive female Fire Eater. “She outfitted their dilapidated rig with the illusion, and the magical signature matches. She’s got talent. It’s too bad she chose to use it to help scum like Nathan Aspell and his band of sniveling man-boys terrorize people.” Seradon’s spoke the last part loud and clear, tilting her head toward Audrey’s sphere.

  “Thank you, Seradon. I’ve got it from here,” O’Hara said dryly.

  Seradon smiled sweetly, but I noticed she waited for Grant’s discreet nod before turning away. I expected her to vault the railing, but she came to me instead and helped me to my feet. I bit my bottom lip and swallowed a moan of pain. Magic ghosted across me, assessing my wounds. Nathan received another glare, this one promising pain, but once Seradon was certain I wouldn’t collapse, she gave my shoulder a gentle pat and continued on her way. She did, however, pause long enough beside Audrey to say, “If you need a quote for your article, I’ll be right over there.”

  O’Hara cleared his throat. “All press inquiries will go through me.” He shot Audrey a stern glance.

  “Excuse me, Investigator,” I rasped, my throat parched. I pushed away from the railing, hesitating when my thighs quivered under the strain of supporting me. Every muscle from my jaw to my heels throbbed as if I had been systematically tortured—or as if I had fought against a madman, then clung to a corkscrewing, out-of-control ship.

  O’Hara pivoted toward me, arching a black eyebrow. “If you will be patient, Ms. Grayson, we’ll take your statement in a moment. Or do you require healing?” He signaled to Xinh.

  “No.” I waved aside the offer. Healing could wait. “Nathan has something he stole from me. I would like it back before you cart him off to jail.”

  I took a step. Pain spiked from the half-healed wound in my calf up to my knee. Gritting my teeth, I stepped around Xinh’s proffered hand.

  “Don’t let her near me,” Nathan said. “She’s going to hurt me.”

  “Shut it,” Grant growled.

  My breaths came in shallow pants by the time I crossed the dozen feet separating us. Slowly, because I was half afraid I might fall over and half afraid Nathan would attempt to strike me despite the two FPD warriors looming on either side of him, I reached into his pocket and retrieved my pouch. Unraveling the spells holding it closed, I tugged the pouch open and poured my seed and Quinn’s into my palm.

  The tiny green sprout on Quinn’s seed remained strong and unbroken. I let out a pent-up breath. My own seed was unchanged, but I didn’t care. It was Quinn’s I had been worried about.

  “You don’t deserve that seed,” Nathan spat. “You don’t deserve to write this story or any story. You’re not a real journalist like me. You’re just a spoiled rich girl.”

  Cruel desperation glittered in Nathan’s gaze as he slung his verbal barbs, hoping to strike one final blow. He still believed his opinion mattered to me. Pity curved my lips into a semblance of a smile, igniting fresh hatred in Nathan’s eyes.

  “You forfeited the right to call yourself a journalist the moment you fabricated a story, Nathan. Now you’re just a sad liar.” I leaned closer, as if confiding a secret. “But don’t worry. The fame you crave? You’re going to get it. You’re going to go down in history as the biggest criminal to ever be fired from the Terra Haven Chronicle. Maybe someone will even write a book about it. But it won’t be me. You’re not worth another second of my time.”

  I tucked the seeds back into the pouch and slipped it into my pocket, ignoring the slew of insults Nathan spewed. On wobbly legs, I stalked to the bow of the ship and tottered to the ground. Sheer willpower kept me upright, though my knees wanted to buckle. I wouldn’t give Nathan the satisfaction of seeing me stumble.

  Quinn trotted to me, favoring his back-right paw. Without speaking, he sat and propped me up. Together, we watched Xinh drag Nathan to Seradon’s aircraft and load him inside with the captured Fire Eaters. Apollo snarled at Nathan. Nathan sneered, then fell over his own feet when Apollo swung his cuffed hands like a club at Nathan’s face. Velasquez stepped in, forcing Apollo to the deck and wrapping him in a ward to hold him in place. The other prisoners received similar miniature holding cells.

  After they were settled, Velasquez hoisted Nathan to his feet, using only one hand to lift the slender ex-journalist. He shoved Nathan next to Apollo, linking the two men’s wards together. Both seemed to have forgotten the recording spells affixed to their clothing as they spat insults and accusations at each other. Xinh gave Velasquez an approving grin.

  Surprise pinged through me when Velasquez met my eyes. Instead of the glare I expected, he tipped his chin and touched his hand briefly to his chest. I mirrored him, accepting his forgiveness and silently offering my own. Winking, Velasquez turned his attention back to the prisoners.

  Winnigan touched my shoulder, drawing my attention. Her glass-green eyes assessed mine, her slender fingers cool on my forearms.

  “Are you braced?” she whispered.

  I planted a hand on Quinn’s mane and nodded.

  Cool magic surged into my body, assessing my injuries. Winnigan tsked over the rope burns and cuts on my arm but left them alone, concentrating her magic on my brain instead. I sighed with relief as the pounding pain in my temples subsided.

  “You know what I’m going to say now.”

  “My energy reserves are too low to heal me further,” I guessed, opening my eyes as Winnigan withdrew her magic. Exhaustion weighted my eyelids. I longed to sit, but I didn’t dare. Not until I could guarantee I wouldn’t need to move again for several hours—or several days.

  “Use ointment on these abrasions and aloe vera on the burns. And get rest. Real rest. See a healer tomorrow for a thorough checkup. And if I see you injured in the next month, I’ll let Grant heal you.”

  I stifled a shudder. “I promise I’ll rest.”

  “Good.” Brushing her copper hair out of her face, Winnigan gave me a fierce smile. “You made us all proud today, Kylie. Good work.” Squatting, she rested a hand on Quinn’s cheek. “We couldn’t have done it without you either. Thank you, Quinn.”

  Quinn’s spine straightened, but he kept his wings gingerly tented away from his spine as Winnigan strode back to the Shadow Hawk.

  “I think Kylie should be the lead on this article. Do you agree, Audrey?” Dahlia asked.

  “Fine by me.”

  I blinked in surprise, and Audrey smiled.

  “You earned it,” she said.

  “Thank you,” I said, honored that she didn’t hesitate to relinquish control of such an important article to me. “But I can’t. Quinn needs healing—”

  “I can wait.” Determination glowed in Quinn’s eyes. “We should make sure the Chronicle gets the facts right this time.”

  Dahlia flinched infinitesimally. “Quinn is right. I owe you an apology, Kylie. I believed Nathan’s articles were keeping the public informed—and ensuring the FPD didn’t sweep this investigation out of sight, since it reflected so poorly on them too.” She lifted a brow at O’Hara. The investigator’s bland expression didn’t change, and Dahlia turned back to me. “I can see now that I was sorely wrong about Nathan’s motives, and I allowed my objective to blind me to his failings. I owe it to you to let you set the record straight. This is your story, Kylie. It might even be your story of a lifetime. And you lived it. You deserve the byline credit.”

  A zing of yearning shot through me. Dahlia was offering me everything I thought I wanted: a big splashy story, a boost to my career, and a touch of fame.

  My gaze slid to Nathan sulking in null cuffs, his life—and very nearly my parents’ lives—ruined because of his monomaniacal pursuit of fame and the next big story. He was a living, breathing cautionary tale, a monster created and fed on similar motivations and goals that existed in my heart. But we weren’t the same people. I hadn’t made horrific, unethical decisions in pursuit of the seed’s promised story. And I vowed I never would.

  “Living it was enough,” I said. It wasn’t unhealthy to desire to advance my career or to get excited over a story or a front-page byline, but right now, my priorities lay elsewhere. “Thank you for the offer, but I just want to see Mom’s name cleared and Airstrong back in society’s good graces. Audrey should write the article. She has an unbiased perspective, and I know she’ll do it justice.”

  Dahlia studied me for a long moment, her piercing brown eyes seeming to examine my soul—and approve of what she found. “As you wish. I hope we’ll see you at the Chronicle soon.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  Grant vaulted the basket’s battered railing and landed next to me, no weakness or fatigue visible in his movements. The only sign that he had battled Fire Eaters, then prevented a dirigible’s crash using raw muscle and a jaw-dropping amount magic was the sweat that slicked his hair and dampened the thick column of his throat. I let my gaze slide down his body. Splinters and ash dusted his shoulders and arms, blood crusted his knuckles, and his spelled uniform bore telltale singed holes from fiery shell shrapnel.

  “If we leave now, we should reach the phoenix before it hatches,” he said.

  I jerked my gaze to his. He was offering more than a ride; he was giving me a chance to evolve my everlasting seed. A chance to finish my quest for the story of a lifetime.

  “You’d do that for me?” I asked softly.

  “The harder I try to shield you from danger, the more you seem to attract. I think it’s time I try a new strategy.”

  A slow, unbidden smile curved my lips. Despite his wry tone, his brown eyes glowed with tenderness and a promise I yearned to hear spoken.

  “But after the hatching,” Grant said, his voice deepening, “I’m taking you home, and I’ll get Quinn to sit on you if that’s what it takes to keep you in bed until your body recovers.”

  A snort of a laugh escaped me, but I shook my head.

  “Thank you, but as much as I appreciate the offer, I’ve seen enough phoenixes hatch to last me a lifetime. I just want to go home.”

  Grant’s eyebrow arched in surprise. “Are you certain?”

  A week ago, I would have leapt at a chance—my last chance—to evolve my everlasting seed. I would have been the one clamoring for Grant to get me close to the phoenix.

  My fingers idly traced the waves of Quinn’s rock mane. The seed and chasing its promised answer had nearly killed me and those I loved too many times. I was ready to set the quest for the story of a lifetime aside.

  “I’m certain.”

  Grant smiled. Affection and something more potent glimmered in his eyes, warming me. My body was ready to be home. I wanted Mika to heal Quinn and fuss over me. I wanted to see Mom and return all Airstrong responsibilities to her and Dad. I wanted to sleep for a week. But most of all, I wanted to climb into Grant’s arms and not let go.

  I thought I had lost him. I never wanted to feel that anguish again.

  I had so many things I wanted to say to him, but with Dahlia, Audrey, O’Hara, and the other FPD warriors watching with rapt fascination, I held my tongue.

  Soon, though. Grant and I would talk soon.

  25

  Every muscle from my temples to my toes ached when I woke late the next morning. Quinn helped me hobble to the bathroom, assisted me in replacing the bandages on my abraded wrists, and then monitored me as I delicately stretched my abused muscles. By the time I exchanged my pajamas for lightweight gardening trousers and a blue cotton top that brushed soft as air against my scabbed back, I was moving almost normally.

  Josephine knocked on my door as I finished buttoning my pants.

  “Come in,” I called.

  “I thought I heard you up.” She cracked the door open and peeked in, then stepped into my room. “I was going to leave these on your doorstep, but since you’re awake . . .” My landlady clutched a platter crammed with enough peach scones for five people, a mound of butter molded into a rose bloom, a pitcher of water and a glass, and the morning edition of the Terra Haven Chronicle. A warming spell hugged the scones, a cooling spell protected the butter, and a third spell supported a paper-wrapped package floating at her hip. After giving me a quick once-over, Josephine set the tray on the table and guided the package to rest next to it.

  “How are you feeling today?” Her hands fluttered in the air between us, waving vaguely at my battered body.

  “Fine.” So long as I didn’t move. “Lucky, mostly,” I added, eyeing the mound of scones.

  After Zipporah tore apart the Victorian’s roof in an attempt to abduct me, I feared my friendship with my landlady had been irreparably damaged. But fresh-baked treats—and my favorite flavor too—said louder than words that I was back in Josephine’s good graces. “Thank you for being the most understanding landlady I could ask for. And for being such a talented baker.”

  Josephine waved my words aside, but pleasure sparkled in her green eyes. Impulsively, I hugged her, breathing in her subtle jasmine perfume. Her arms circled me gently.

  “No more scares, Kylie. You hear me?” She pulled back to hold my forearms, noted the bandages, and switched her grip to my biceps. “You can’t keep showing up on our doorstep looking like you let death slap you around.”

  I snorted, but when her fingers tightened to convey her seriousness, I said, “I promise. I’ll live a tame life. No more getting caught in blood-magic labyrinths or running through thunderbird territories or pitting myself against banned spells. Or phoenix eggs.” Reciting my recent adventures made me sound like a heroine in an adventure novel—or maybe the lead in an allegorical farce. I winked at Josephine and added, “At least for the next week or so.”

  She shook her head and chuckled. “And you, Quinn? Was Mika able to heal you?”

  Quinn stretched his wings to show off an extensive clear swath down his back and across his feathers. “All better.”

  “So long as you rest,” I reminded him.

  Healing Quinn’s seared body had taxed Mika and Quinn both. It was the first burn wound Mika had ever mended, and although her legendary gargoyle healer skills rose to the challenge, with Quinn’s energy severely depleted, she hadn’t wanted to risk delving too deep into his body’s reserves. He would need to take it easy for the next week—a healer’s refrain I was intimately familiar with.

  “Good. While you’re both recuperating, I can catch you up on the neighborhood gossip,” Josephine said.

  “Oh? Have we missed much?”

  “Harold attempted to breed baku . . .”

  “The small nightmare-consuming pachyderms? How did he get his hands on those?”

  “Well, they were actually dyed anteaters someone conned him into buying.”

  Quinn and I burst into laughter. “This is a story we need to hear. Please, join us for breakfast. You made more than enough.”

  “I wasn’t certain if your gentleman would be joining you.”

  “Um.” For some reason, the term your gentleman brought a blush to my cheeks.

  “Did you know the captain came by last night and again this morning?” Josephine asked.

  “No . . .” I shot Quinn an inquisitive look, and he nodded. “Did he have a message for me?” And why hadn’t he come up? I peeked at the wrapped package. Was it from him?

  “He was checking on you,” Josephine said. “Last night, he wanted to make sure you got home all right, and I told him you were already in bed. This morning, we agreed not to wake you.”

  We agreed? Or did Josephine shoo Grant away? “Did he say if he’s coming back?” Butterflies fluttered in my midsection, eagerness and nerves colliding at the thought of seeing Grant. “Should I send him a message?”

  “I’m certain he’ll be back.” Josephine’s eyes crinkled in a knowing smile. “But for now, I need to get the week’s shopping done. We’ll catch up soon. Enjoy, and don’t do anything too strenuous today.”