Light filtered through April's eyelids, first a faint stream then a bright, burning haze through the darkness. Something damp slapped against her cheeks, sticking to her skin. A groan rumbled deep in her throat, jerking her awake. Wait, why was she sleeping in the first place?

Her most recent memories bled into her mind. The letter. Her room. The person in her room. The blaze of her magic in her veins was still fresh on her skin. Bile climbed up in her throat. She...got knocked out? Where was she? Why did her arms feel sore?

Also, why was she staring at nothing but the blue expanse?

When it clicked, a gasp flitted out of her throat. The sky. She was in the sky. But she wasn't flying. Her limbs flailed by instinct, but something bit at her skin. She looked down and immediately regretted it. Past the tight, dark bonds circling her chest, securing her arms to her sides, nothing but the sheet of white clouds separated her and solid ground.

She was an air sprite, with the wings to prove it, but for some reason, her heart started pounding inside her chest, begging to be let out. Fly. She should fly out of here. She grunted, flexing her back muscles to get her flight back in order. All she succeeded at was to make herself sway back and forth. Her gut churned. Her wings. What did they do to them? Why couldn't she feel them?

True enough, there was no feeling past her spine. It was like...having her wings cut off completely. They didn't—

Relief flooded her system when she spotted a slew of white feathers past her leg. And it looked like she was still wearing the same clothes she went to the meeting in. That's a bigger relief. She wouldn't want to be displaying her insides even though there was literally nothing that might see her.

Then, the realest of her worries came crashing back to her. How in Rudik's ass was she supposed to get out of here? Moreover, whose witch had the gall to knock her out, drag her out of her room and out of the palace, tie her up, do something to her wings, and let her dangle to what she assumed to be the edge of Falkirta? Gods, she hoped they were still somewhere in Azorgend.

She looked behind her, seeing for the first time what Falkirta looked like from below. Just an expanse of dark soil miraculously held together by what magic held the whole island in the sky. She squirmed, making her form turn away from the endless stretch of blue and into the shadowy underside of her territory. It seemed to extend the same direction of the sky, some of the high-altitude clouds staining the spot where the horizon and the soil met. At random intervals, some debris would quiver from the huge chunk before breaking away and succumbing to the earth's pull.

It was a fitting reminder of what would happen to April if she didn't get herself out of here soon.

The wind howled in her ears, shuffling her loose locks and making stray strands to slap her face and get in the way of her vision. The dew and the condensation hanging in the air accounted for the damp feeling on her head and skin. A shiver crawled down her arms and back. It was easily colder than Aphesa during storm season. How long was she dangling here?

"Ah, you're awake. I was beginning to think you weren't ever and I would have to cut the rope earlier," a voice rang with the wind somewhere above her head.

She craned her neck, squinting against the glare of the sunlight pricking at her eyes. Somewhere above her, a few notches away from the only rope holding April afloat stood a shadow shrouded by light. In the rays of the setting sun, he looked just like a silhouette. There was an obvious bulk of wings behind where his head could have been, proving he's an air sprite as well. That, or he's a storm sprite pretending to be relevant.

Why did that voice feel familiar, though?

The figure crouched, bringing enough mercy to April's stinging eyes. Then, a familiar face formed in her hazy vision. Hair as black as ink. Eyes so brown it looked orange when a stray beam of light hit it. She knew that face.

"Melron Isarel," April spat, grateful to the gods these people didn't cut her tongue. "Tell me who else you're working with so I could kill you."

Melron laughed—a full guffaw of knowing he had fully won. "And I'm the one dangling at the edge of the world. You amuse me, April," he said. Not 'Your Grace'. Not 'Princess'. Just plain 'April'. "I gave you enough time to catch me, to do something about my prodding. It seemed you ran out of the time I gave you to make good of your word."

Their earlier conversation flashed in April's head. So that was what Melron was talking about. If she doesn't get the court's graces, he's going to dispose of her.

"Why do this?" April's voice sounded weak against the roar of the wind and of something else in her ears. "Why go through all the lengths of spying on me and killing me here? What do you hope to accomplish?"

Melron hummed. "I'm glad you decided to ask," he said. He didn't seem to realize April was buying time. Her mind ran over all the possible things he could have done to paralyze her wings. Potions? A blunt blow? If it was both, her magic could have healed it already, even as she was unconscious. The fact that she still couldn't feel her wings meant something else.

She tried summoning her magic. Nothing answered her. Her skin remained damp and cold. That's strange. Where did her magic go?

"Why am I doing this, you say?" Melron stayed crouched and felt around his belt for something. "It's simple, really. It's the Sylkrana bloodline's fault Falkirta is the way it is."

An equivalent laugh tore off April's lips. It was more of a bitter snort than of amusement. "That's rich, coming from you, a member of the Court," she said. Anger was thick against her tongue. "The Court that made it clear they aimed to undermine me and my authority."

The sound of metal sliding off a leather scabbard speared through the air. "I don't care what those morons do to you," Melron said. Something silver glinted as it caught the light. A heavy weight rested on the rope tying April's bonds and, ultimately, her to the edge. "What matters most is what your family has done to me."

"You were right in the regard of the High Queen not acting like one," Melron continued. "At least we agree on that front. In her incompetence, she has let the Seelie Court have their hand on the trading regulations. The Seelie Court, determined to line their pockets, took advantage of it. Now, everyone is suffering because of it. Businesses closed and merchants couldn't cross borders to Lanteglos because they couldn't pay the high fines. It brought shortages in secluded towns. Deaths. The Seelie Court caused deaths with their greed."

April was aware of the recent changes in the policies regarding the inter-territory trade. She always thought it strange. Why change those policies in the middle of the reign? Why not do it at the start? "What does that have to do with me?" April seethed. "I don't deserve to be punished for my mother's sins."

Melron chuckled. "I know. Nor should you be," he said. "This is the only way I can get the High Queen's attention. By cutting you off and letting her know how it feels to have lost something she loved."

So, taking from the scraps of information Melron threw at her, it seemed like he had lost someone in the exact way—in an emergency that wasn't tended to because of the shortages brought about by the Seelie Court's policy changes in trade.

April snorted. "She doesn't love me," she blurted. The sudden admittance left her heart hollow. It might not be true but at the state of her letters being unanswered, it might have been the case. Over the years, the Imperial Palace didn't really want to have anything to do with her if she didn't reach out first. For the first time, though, she was glad that was the case. "What made you think she would fly out here and deal with you garbage?"

"You forget," Melron said. "You're not just her daughter. You are her heir, poised to take her place and continue the bloodline. With it so late in her reign, looking for another consort to try for an heir once more would prove futile. She couldn't lose you, especially not now. That is how important you are."

"Why only act now?" April asked. A prickling sensation started throbbing in her wings. The feeling was slowly coming back. "You have all the time in the world since I was a child."

A wide smile tore off Melron's face. The sun had begun setting behind him, plunging the sky into a striking orange. "I'm a patient man, you see," he said, pressing his knife harder against the thick rope holding April up. A bitter taste covered April's lips past the thundering in her heart. "I waited for the moment I could get rid of you without it being traced back to me. Right now, when you're gone, I could tell the Council I did it because you attempted to contact the High Queen about that thing you're insisting about and that's against the Potentate's ultimatum. You served yourself to me on the most golden platter you could manage."

"So it's for revenge?" April asked. "How selfish of you. And quite pathetic, mostly."

Melron scowled. Okay, maybe pissing the person who held the key to her survival (for now) wasn't a good idea. But she said what she said. "When you lose a child to the poachers the High Queen turns a blind eye to, you'll know," he said. "When you watch your wife die in front of you because you don't have enough resources to heal her simple illness, you'll know."

"You'll know how it's like to die while living," Melron's lips curled into a vicious smile. "Besides, my benefactor would want the same outcome regarding your life. We want you gone. For entirely different reasons but the same end. I'll take that deal any day."

"Who are you working for?" April demanded. "Who wants me gone?"

Melron shook his head. "For someone whose life hangs on the balance, you sure talk a lot," he said. "This has gone far enough. I should get back to the real plan at hand. You are just an unfortunate vermin I need to get out of the way. The Sylkrana bloodline do not deserve to be in power."

He took a swing at the rope. April squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the stomach-wrenching fall. A distinct squelch of metal against flesh rang in the air. What the—

"April! Thank the gods!" Hera's familiar voice made April pull her eyes open. Her friend's friendly face was enough of a relief, setting her gut at ease. "Let me remove your bounds. They're the ones blocking your magic."

April nodded. Then, her eyes moved to the lump of clothes collapsed next to her rope. A distinct arm bearing the knife threatening to cut the rope earlier hung limply on the edge. Melron. What happened to him?

Something silver stuck out from his back, courtesy of Hera. Damn, she could wield a sword too? What things couldn't she do?

A force tugged at the rope tied around April's bounds. Slowly, April began rising. Hera's grunt could be heard somewhere above her. "Almost there," Hera was saying. "We're close. Hang in there a little longer. No pun intended, of course."

April snorted. She was about to open her mouth, to blurt something stupid, when a guttural scream bit through the sky. Hera scream of pain replaced it after. "No one will get in my way!" Melron yelled, which was drowned by Hera's loud, "No!"

April looked up just in time for Melron to lunge forward, knife shining in the setting sun. Then, with a slash, the blade bit into the rope. It snapped.

No!

The world slowed as the earth's pull gripped her legs. Swallowed her weight. Left nothing to the sky.

Then, April Sylkrana fell.