Pride was a sin that Larkspur did not understand. He had been broken down long before he had learned what was wrong with him—his coat, his chosen god. Tak, lord of all things dark and terrible. Was that not his destiny, to follow suit and destroy everything he had ever cared for. They did that first, the stone eagle whispered. They’re the reason you were supposed to die. He had not forgotten that. The Khalif would have ended him if they had not been given strangers for four years. He was lucky. He was incredibly lucky.
Her voice was high, a squawk, and his eyes burned merrily. Larkspur had seen a desert once; a desert made by man’s toxins. Passing through the Midwest had revealed the extent of farming and how it had ruined the earth. Dust where crops had been. It was not a true desert, but it was close. “Maybe y’did,” he echoed, and felt the ground pulse under his feet. “Is that where you were marked?” He asked, motioning to her scar.
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