Free Caprion's Wings by T. L. Shreffler

will make sure you’re freed,” he
said.
    Her eyes widened. She heard the
resonating tone of his voice, the binding contract that lay between
them. “You will take me back to the mainland?”
    Caprion hesitated only slightly. He
had never been there before, but he would do that for his wings. He
would do that for her. “Yes,” he said.
    The word hung between them. She gazed
at him intently, as though trying to see beneath his skin. Slowly,
she frowned. “This is a spell, isn’t it? You will be bound by your
word.”
    He nodded. Foolish, his thoughts
murmured, but he hushed them.
    “Why would you do such a thing?” she
finally asked.
    “Because you shouldn’t be in a place
like this,” he said, hoping she saw his sincerity. “And I want you
to trust me.”
    Finally, she nodded. “Then I’ll help
you.”
    Caprion grinned and stood, drawing his
sword. “Hold your hands out over the stone,” he said.
    She looked up at him, surprised, then
did as he asked, planting her hands wide apart on the firm ground.
Her rusty chains did not look very strong. He picked out the
weakest link. Taking careful aim, he swung his heavy blade down and
snapped the chain in two with a shower of sparks. Moss gasped and
flinched back, then raised her freed hands before her eyes, flexing
her wrists.
    “Now your neck,” he said, indicating
the chain that bound her to the wall. Moss scuttled to one side and
he repeated the action, hacking three times before the chain
finally shattered apart.
    “Can you remove the collar?” she
asked.
    He knelt next to her in the dark room,
not thinking twice about her freed hands or the possibility of an
attack. A natural rhythm seemed to fall between them—a trust born
of silent need. In this cold and gloomy place, they only had one
another. He moved her thick hair out of the way and inspected the
metal collar around her neck, looking for a clasp. He couldn’t find
one. It took him a moment to realize the sunstone worked as a lock;
in order to free her, he would have to deactivate it, and he
couldn’t do that unless he had wings. Without his star, he had no
power over the Light.
    “I’m sorry,” he finally said, sitting
back on his heels. “I need my wings first. But once I get them, I
will take this off.”
    She looked at him, searching his face
doubtfully; in that moment, she looked painfully small and
vulnerable. But his promise, made of words and Song, could not be
broken. In many ways he had chained himself to her fate, and she
seemed to realize that. She would have sensed it when he spoke the
words.
    She nodded, still holding his
eyes.
    “We should begin our search,” Caprion
said, realizing how long he must have spent in this dank cell.
Talarin had given him an hour. He still had some time, but not
much. He had to hurry before Sumas noticed something amiss, or
before Talarin grew worried and came looking for him.
    "Can you find the source of the
voice?" Caprion asked.
    The girl shrugged. “I can lead you to
where the shadows accumulate the thickest. That is where the demon
will hide.” She hesitated. “This is very dangerous,” she
repeated.
    Caprion stood and lifted his sword,
swinging it easily in his grasp, then sheathed it. “I can stand a
bit of danger,” he said.
    That secretive look slipped across her
face again, her eyes glinting. “Then let’s go,” she
said.
    Moss stood and walked
silently across the room. Caprion couldn’t help but notice her
smooth, liquid movement, like a well-trained dancer. Her chains
barely rustled with each step. She moved in a way he didn’t expect
from a young girl, controlled and assertive. Trained, he realized. So young, and
yet already knowledgeable in the ways of an assassin. It confirmed
his earlier suspicion. She was not as harmless as she
appeared.
    Using the sunstone’s light, they
exited the small cell and entered the long, stone hallway. Moss
paused for a moment, glancing back and forth, concentrating…then
she turned to the left