Kingdom of Shadows and

Wings
Dragons of Tirene Series
Book One

Nina Frost

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Books by Nina Frost
Dragons of Tirene Series
Kingdom of Shadows and Wings

Coming soon
Court of Secrets and Flames

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 Contents

Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50

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Acknowledgments
About Nina Frost

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 Description

A world of magic, desire, and intrigue awaits at Flighthaven, where a

young woman defies the odds to find her true calling.

Nineteen-year-old Lark Axton has lived her entire life sequestered behind
the castle's walls, overshadowed by her overprotective mother. Now, the
king has ordered Lark to assume her missing sister’s role as a warrior in
training at Aclaris’s flight academy, where the kingdom's sons and
daughters train to battle their winged enemies and control dragons.

There’s just one problem. Lark is terrified of flying.

Forced to the deadly training grounds of Flighthaven, Lark must survive the
danger that stalks the academy if she wants to uncover the truth behind her
sister’s disappearance and survive the upcoming treacherous trial.
Unfortunately, her sinfully irresistible, arrogant and downright irritating
flight instructor is determined to make her life hell.

But enemies lurk within the academy, and no one is who they seem,
including Lark herself. As the trial begins, the same explosive secrets that
tore Lark's sister away from Flighthaven now threaten Lark.

With her life hanging in the balance, Lark's ability to unlock the secret
magic within her will either save...or kill her.
Kingdom of Shadows and Wings weaves the thrill of dragons,
elemental magic, and forbidden romance into an exhilarating fantasy
adventure that’s perfect for fans of Fourth Wing and Zodiac Academy.

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 Chapter One

The night before fate sets fire to my life begins with more chaos than usual.
Skulking in a corner, I nibble a flaky pastry stuffed with seasoned meat
and wonder if it’s too soon to make my escape. A small crowd of female
guests mills about Castle Axton’s great hall, chatting and laughing in gowns
that sparkle like gemstones beneath the crystal chandeliers. Wine and mead
perfume the air with fruity sweetness, and a string quartet strums a lively
tune.
I press my back against the stone wall, relishing the chill that cools my
overheated skin. Despite the vaulted ceilings, it’s hotter than hells in here.
Louder too. Mother’s either losing her hearing or she’s a closet masochist,
because the nobles she invites to these things always seem dead set on
testing the upper limits of their vocal capacities.
With Leesa off at Flighthaven learning to fly alicorns—and eventually
dragons—to protect Aclaris, I’m more starved for companionship than ever.
I swear, though, some of these people make my hermit’s life sound
appealing.
Cramming the last bite of pastry into my mouth, I drop my empty plate
on a table and slip past colorful tapestries of dragons, paintings of the four
elemental gods and goddesses—Ziva, Gallora, Terro, and Rivlan—and
portraits of stuffy ancestors who don’t look a thing like me.
A few more steps to the staircase and then I can make a break for it.
“Lark, dear! Please come over here.”
 Well, fuck. There goes that idea.
I swallow a sigh and switch directions. I dodge the tipsy woman who’s
brandishing a full cup of mead like a sword, reaching my mother and her
friends unscathed. In her emerald silk gown with her golden curls piled atop
her head, Lady Lynnea Axton creates a striking picture. Familiar concern
shadows her brown eyes as she subjects me to a head-to-toe inspection.
I try to smother the burn of resentment in my chest.
I love my mother. I just wish her love wasn’t so godsdamned
suffocating.
On the one hand, I get it. Losing a husband and almost losing a child in
a Tirenese attack would be enough to destroy anyone’s world. But Ziva save
us, that happened fifteen years ago, when I was four. I’m nineteen now.
Surely, enough time has lapsed span for her fear to subside.
Although, I have to admit, certain aspects of my current life add to her
stress too.
I’m not proud of what I’m about to do next, but I have somewhere to be,
and the party will only keep her attention diverted for so long. Mother
would lose her ever-loving mind if she learned about my unsanctioned rides
to the village.
Pinning a grimace on my face, I clutch my head, adding a little moan
for good measure.
As predicted, my mother’s brow creases. “Lark, darling, are you dizzy
again?”
“Afraid so.” I ignore the guilt gnawing at my gut and massage my
temples. “May I be excused? I thought I might feel better, but the noise⁠—”
“Of course. Have Hilda prepare you a bath.”
“Maybe later. I just need to rest.”
She engulfs me in a rose-scented hug. “You do that.”
I duck my head and flee the great hall, doing my best to avoid the
pitying looks that follow. My mother’s friends must wonder how two sisters
could be so different. Leesa is strong, healthy, and plans to use her affinity
for fire to defend Aclaris and become a dragonrider. Basically, she’s a
badass. Meanwhile, I’m the weakling sister who suffers from frequent dizzy
spells and possesses the magical ability of a potato.
At least, that’s what everyone believes. Only Mother and I know about
the daily remedy I take to suppress my magic. The concoction worked like a
charm too…up until last week, when the king’s representative arrived at our
gate to administer an unscheduled retest. The amount of fire I summoned
was pitiful, barely enough to fill a thimble. Still, that one tiny spark was
enough to send my worrywart mother into meltdown mode.
Upstairs, I dart into my bedchamber and sag against the door. I know
my mother has good intentions, but that means fuck all during those times
when my existence behind the castle walls feels like a slow death in a
luxury prison.
A few years ago, one of the gardener’s little boys caught a pretty yellow
bird. He caged the bird and carried it everywhere, singing to it, providing a
steady supply of worms and beetles dug fresh from the garden, and keeping
the cage by his bed when he slept. But despite his tender care, the bird
started bashing her head against the bars. The gardener’s boy sobbed,
asking why his treasured pet hurt herself.
To me, the answer was obvious. All the love and pampering in the world
couldn’t compensate for the thing the bird desired most.
Freedom.
Sometimes, I relate to the bird a little too much. Only, in my story, the
cage is partly of my own making. For good reason.
I never want to hurt anyone again.
Shying away from the troubling direction of my thoughts, I strip off the
blue gown and stuff the garment in the armoire, where it’s swallowed by a
rainbow of other dresses. In the last drawer, buried at the bottom, I find my
sole pair of trousers. Next, I fish out a roomy, hand-me-down tunic and tug
it over my head.
After finger-combing my dark brown waves in front of the mirror, I
weave the locks into a braid.
My reflection shows a heart-shaped face. Big hazel eyes. A slightly
upturned nose.
My mother and sister, on the other hand, with their dark golden curls,
long noses, and stubborn chins, are dead ringers for the parade of unsmiling
ancestors on the downstairs wall. Mother tells me I favor my paternal
grandmother, but I have to take her word for it. An accident with a candle
during my younger years destroyed that portrait.
Outside my window, darkness devours the last bit of daylight. I hurry as
I rummage under the bed to unearth my bow, slinging it and a quiver full of
arrows over my shoulder. A dagger gets tucked into my boot.
I’m sheltered, not stupid.
 A hooded, forest green cloak completes the ensemble. I grab a pouch
full of coins from my desk drawer before easing my chamber’s heavy door
open a few inches.
The corridor is empty. No one intercepts me as I race down the servants’
stairway and burst into the kitchen. “Is the extra food all packed?”
Cook—a rosy-cheeked, sweet-natured woman named Betsy who prefers
to go by Cook and has lived with us since before I was born—nods. She
always smells delicious, like cinnamon and sage. “Yes. And the horse and
wagon are waiting in your usual spot.”
“And you and the rest of the staff already ate your fill?”
She pats my cheek with her calloused hand. “Sweet girl, don’t you fret
over us. You just hurry up and get back safety.”
Worry pinches her expression, same as always. I flash my most
reassuring grin. “I’ll be in and out before Mother finishes her next two
goblets of wine.”
My mother requests massive amounts of food for her soirees, over half
of which always remains untouched. After the initial grazing period, the
guests ignore the delicacies in favor of mead and ale. The waste always
bothered me, so I started telling the staff to remove most of the uneaten
dishes early. They pack the food into a wagon and cart it just outside the
castle grounds. Two of the guards help me slip out undetected. I pretend to
turn in for the night, drive the food out to a man in the village who ensures
it reaches the neediest, and return home without my mother ever suspecting.
Simple as brambleberry pie.
Well, except for that one time. But how could I possibly know one of
my guards would fall ill? That evening ended with me scaling the wall up to
my bedchamber window. Not an ideal experience, but I survived.
Quiet as a ghost, I slink through the courtyard. Too much free time has
allowed me to perfect a bunch of random skills, like climbing. Sneaking
around. Picking locks and cursing. Reading any books I can get my hands
on, including the inappropriate ones. Basically, the types of hobbies
guaranteed to send Mother into an early grave if she found out.
In moments like this, my hodgepodge of disreputable talents comes in
handy.
With a nod to Otis, a brawny, crooked-nosed guard with a kind heart, I
slip past the gates, moonlight casting eerie shadows in the darkness as I
hurry toward the tree where Barney is tethered. After patting the gelding on
the neck, I check the cart for the food, as well as the riding tack I’ll use for
the return trip from Beckkrun, before climbing onto the front ledge and
snapping the reins.
The clip-clop of Barney’s hooves harmonizes with the low hum of
insects and hiccupping nightbird calls as we journey along the familiar dirt
trail. Like always, the bumpy route bounces me up and down and takes a
toll on my ass. I only learned to ride and drive a wagon a few years ago, and
opportunities to practice my form rarely present themselves.
Once we round the last corner, the faint lights of Beckkrun beckon.
Laughter and raucous music pour from the Happy Dragon Tavern as we
enter the village. I cast a longing glance at the tavern window and wish I
could join them, but the risk is too high. If someone recognized me and
reported back to my mother, she’d freak out. I cringe to think of the extreme
steps that might follow. A lock on the outside of my door? An around-the-
clock guard stationed inside my room? No more nighttime excursions for
sure.
Suppressing a shudder, I dismount, tie the reins of Barney’s bridle to a
post, and scan the perimeter for Royce. The tavern door swings open, and a
boy who can’t be older than fourteen strides out. Though I’ve never seen
him before, his mop of curly brown hair and his expressive brown eyes
strike me as familiar.
“Lady Lark?” I slip into the shadows when he approaches. “Is that
you?”
Alarm ripples through me. ‘How do you know my name?”
He moves toward me with slow, deliberate steps, like I’m a wild animal
on the verge of getting spooked. “I’m Luke, Royce’s son. My father
couldn’t come tonight, so he sent me.”
I almost laugh out loud at my paranoia. “Oh, hello. Yes, I’m Lark.”
Luke shakes my extended hand with a grin. Now that I’m soaking in his
smile, I can’t believe I didn’t recognize the resemblance. Luke’s almost a
carbon copy of his father, albeit with more hair, fewer wrinkles, and a
smaller nose. “Is he all right?”
Luke releases my hand. “Just a stomach bug. He’ll be fine in a day or
two. Mother’s fussing over him.”
“Well, please tell your father I hope he feels better soon.”
He nods, brushing a lock of curly hair out of his eyes. “Thank you. I
will, milady.”
 “Please, call me Lark. All my friends do.” By friends, I mean the
handful of guards I’ve befriended over the years.
Luke’s grin returns. His easygoing nature is contagious. “All right then.
Lark it is.”
“I can’t stay long but let me give you this.” I fish the coin-filled leather
pouch from my pocket and hand him the bundle. “For the food pantry.
Royce mentioned more families in need, so there’s extra. I hope it’s
enough.”
As he hefts the bag in his palm, his face lights up. “More than enough.
Thank you.”
Mother stores our valuables in a locked room near her bedchamber that
I periodically break into to liberate coins and help struggling families.
The villagers need food. I need a hobby. It’s a win-win if you ask me.
The tavern door flies open again. Pulling my hood down to obscure my
face, I scoot back into the shadows. A couple stumbles outside, giggling and
trading kisses, completely oblivious to anyone but each other.
Another burst of longing pinches my chest. I can only imagine the
freedom they must feel to behave so carefree in public like that. What must
that be like? I doubt they’re lonely either. Not when they have each other.
Luke pockets the coins and heads for the wagon to peer inside. He licks
his lips. “Did you bring any of those lemon tarts?”
I chuckle. “There are plenty of lemon tarts, so help yourself.”
“Yes!”
Together, we unhitch the wagon and remove Barney’s harness, and I
saddle him in preparation for my trip home. Royce will take the food where
it needs to go. Once they’re finished, someone will drop the cart off in the
same spot I found it tonight. After a little trial and error, we have our system
down.
Luke straightens. “I’m all set. Let me walk you to the trail.”
Along the way, he sobers, a serious expression aging his face to the
point where he could pass for an adult. “You mean a lot to Father. What
you’re doing…it’s helping so many people.”
Not enough. I know that. I want to do more, but for now, this will have
to suffice. “It’s a joint effort. Your father’s a good man, and I happen to
think very highly⁠—”
The snap of a twig echoes from the trees behind us. My body goes rigid.
As I spin in the direction of the noise, Barney sidesteps and jerks at the
reins with a sharp whinny. “What was that?”
Luke’s eyes widen. “I don’t know, but it sounded big.”
The ground shakes, and roots explode from the dirt right in front of us.
They grab for our legs and feet like an army of spindly hands.
I leap back and yell. “Earth elemental! Run!”

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 Chapter Two

Branches burst from a nearby tree, lunging to snag at our clothing and hair.
Vines twine around my waist like ropes and drag me toward the forest.
Terror knots in my throat, blocking my scream.
“Earth elemental?” Luke gasps, his voice two octaves higher from fear.
“But who? How?”
Good questions I have no answers for. I struggle with the branches,
digging my boots in the dirt and fighting to rip myself free. Nothing works.
The branches keep dragging me toward the darkness. I reach for my own
magic, but the remedy is doing its job. Though I locate the area where my
power resides, it’s trapped, locked into an iron box by the magic
suppressant tablets.
Ziva save us.
I toss up a prayer to the fire goddess, not that I expect an answer. That’s
probably for the best. If the gods were still watching us, Ziva would have
smote me long ago for rejecting my power.
Luke takes a brave step toward the forest, his fists raised in front of his
face. “Stop and reveal yourself!”
More roots burst from the ground like the legs of a giant spider, twisting
and winding at an alarming speed up Luke’s body. They bind his wrists and
ankles, and he cries out when a sharp edge pricks his hand and draws blood.
Another vine snakes up his neck to his face, wrapping around his mouth to
form a gag.
 “Luke!”
Strong arms envelop me from behind and grab my hands. That
unwelcome touch, combined with the sight of Lucas getting mauled,
transforms into rage. Magic swells inside me, rattling its cage until a few
embers escape and simmer the blood in my veins. In a flash, tiny sparks
erupt along my skin.
My attacker recoils with a pained groan.
Flinging my head back, I smack my assailant’s nose with an audible
crunch and follow with an elbow to the gut. Defensive maneuvers that Otis
taught me.
The temporary distraction loosens our attacker’s grip on his earth
element. I take full advantage, unshackling myself from the branches
enough to reach the dagger in my boot. My quick burst of magic has
already fizzled out, so I hack at this enormous asshole of a drakewood tree
with my blade.
A few slashes later, I’m free, and the tree is a few branches short. I rush
to Luke and unbind him as well, keeping my body positioned toward the
threat.
As soon as I stand upright, my head starts to spin. Tremors kick off in
my hands and feet and spread up my limbs like wildfire.
Gods save me. Not now.
I plant my feet and wait the dizzy spell out, praying our attacker is gone.
Thankfully, this spell only lasts a few seconds. Brief enough that Luke
doesn’t even notice. Once it passes, I peer into the depths of the forest.
Nothing moves. When I finally spot something amiss, I rub my eyes and try
again. Yup. Still there.
Fear chills my skin. My heartbeat quickens. It can’t be. I swallow two
times before managing a whisper. “Is that what I think it is?”
Behind the shadowy silhouette of a large man’s shoulders, I swear I see
feathers. Feathers the color of burnished copper peeking between the
branches. Lots of them. If the man responsible for all this has wings, then⁠—
“What? What are you looking at?” Confusion laces Luke’s voice.
When I gaze back into the forest, the roots and branches are still. The
wings have vanished. Maybe those mutant branches whacked me upside the
head and I imagined them.
After checking Luke for injuries and sitting with him until he’s calm
enough to return home, we part ways. Thankfully, he never mentions my
use of magic. I’m not sure how I’d explain it. Most people require eyril to
access their magic, and the king and Aclaris military have complete control
over the drug. Only those enlisted to fight for our kingdom have access.
Legally, anyway.
My ability to use magic without eyril brands me as a freak. Mother
made me swear to never reveal my secret, claiming the truth would
endanger me.
I push Barney into a canter, my desire to get home safely trumping the
bruised state of my poor ass. The trail and encroaching forest feel a lot less
secure on the journey back. Every noise has me twisting in the saddle,
dagger ready, to face the threat. I’ve never been so happy to return to the
castle and slip inside. I bypass my room and sneak into Leesa’s, crawling
into her bed like I’ve done in the past on the nights I miss her the most.

A scream wrenches me from sleep, pulling me from nightmares about fires

and ash, falling from the sky, winged men, and being buried alive. I shoot
up from the pillow with a gasp. Sunlight peeks through the gaps of the
velvet curtains like a clandestine lover, painting bright patches on a bed that
isn’t mine. My sleep-addled brain wastes moments reconstructing last
night’s events.
The soiree. Driving Barney and the wagon to the village. Defending
myself and Luke from an earth elemental. Returning home. Crawling into
Leesa’s bed for comfort.
A second scream, which soon shifts into a wail, pierces the air. My
pulse spikes. Mother.
Grabbing my dagger off the nightstand, I ignore my boots in favor of
speed and race downstairs barefoot. I find my mother sobbing in a heap on
the settee, clutching an expensive, creamy piece of paper to her breast.
A thorough inspection of her surroundings reveals no threat. Nary a
grabby tree in sight. No winged man either.
My heart calms. I stuff the dagger behind a giant vase and approach,
speaking in a soft voice.
“Hey. What’s going on?”
 She lifts her tear-streamed face. While her throat bobs, speech seems
beyond her.
I gesture toward the letter. “What does it say that’s got you so upset?”
Mother swallows again and parts her trembling lips. As soon as she
speaks, I want to shove the words back inside her mouth.
“It’s a m…missive from Flighthaven. Your sister’s gone missing, and
they expect you to take her place.”
I gape, certain that my fuzzy head misunderstood. Because there’s no
way my sister would up and leave the kingdom’s flight academy without
alerting someone.
The prospect of me attending Flighthaven in her stead is even more
absurd. Strong, brave, healthy Leesa never suffered from hallucinations or
struggled with frequent bouts of dizziness and muscle weakness. Not like
me. “I’m sorry, can you please repeat that?”
Wordlessly, Mother hands me the thick paper embossed with
Flighthaven Academy’s official seal.

Dear Lady Lynnea Axton,

With deep regret, we must inform you that your daughter, Fledgling Leesa
Axton, has disappeared without leave from the Flighthaven campus. Despite
thorough searches, her whereabouts remain unknown, and while we have
yet to locate a body, our failure to find your daughter necessitates the
consideration of her unfortunate demise. Though we offer you our sincerest
sympathies, we must order your daughter, Lark Axton, to take her sister’s
place as a fire wielder. In two days’ time, Lark must report at the gate of
Flighthaven Academy, before sunset.

Sincerely,
Vice Commander Valaria Torno

My feet anchor me to the floor. Icy claws rake down my spine. I reread the
missive twice more before lowering the message and meeting Mother’s
glistening eyes. “How can this be? How can Leesa just disappear without a
trace?”
 She whimpers and wraps her arms around her waist. “I don’t know. I
don’t know how this could happen.”
I pace in front of the settee. “And why summon me? I swear I tested
negative on that last round of examinations, and I only pretended to
swallow the eyril.”
Since most Aclarians aren’t freaks like me, the king’s examiners dole
out a dose of eyril before testing. Otherwise, the citizens wouldn’t be able
to access their magic.
I spit my dose out when no one was looking. Just in time too. The flavor
made my entire body revolt the moment it hit my tongue.
Mother’s lower lip trembles. “The king’s testers are trained to be
sensitive to even the slightest hint of magic. He must have noticed a spark
of fire, even if you didn’t.” She rocks on the cushion, a faraway glint in her
eyes.
None of this makes sense. How can Flighthaven just misplace a
fledgling? My sister. The letter gives no indication of when Leesa went
missing—zero details regarding the circumstances of her disappearance,
period—and offers no prevailing theories as to what happened. If they’re
summoning me, have they already given up the search? That’s
unacceptable.
Mother snaps out of the strange spell holding her captive. “Well, they
can’t have you. There’s a chance they don’t know…a good chance…”
“A chance they don’t know what?”
She blinks. “What? Oh! Uh…I meant, know about your fire magic.”
She lunges to her feet. “I’m going to write to the king at once, explaining
our situation and begging for an exemption on the grounds that we already
have one child missing in action. As long as Leesa is gone, you’re my sole
heir. That alone should grant us leniency.”
“Yes! That’s a great…wait, no. You can’t do that.”
Mother’s mouth flops open, like she can’t believe my words. Neither
can I, for that matter.
Once she recovers, she pats my shoulder. “Lark. Dear. Flighthaven is no
place for you. Not with all your…frailties.”
I wince. She’s right. Flighthaven has a reputation as a rigorous training
academy that challenges even the toughest nineteen- and twenty-year-olds.
Stories about fledglings getting injured during classes are so prolific,
they’ve even reached my ears. I hear whispers about student deaths too.
 And it’s a flight academy. Where, presumably, young adults like my
sister learn how to fly and defend our kingdom. On the back of a dragon,
for the best of the best. On an alicorn’s back otherwise.
My stomach twists into a thousand knots. Alicorns. Even the thought of
those giant horse-like creatures, with their deadly horns poking out from
between their eyes and those huge wings, roils my stomach.
“I know it’s not an ideal environment for me,”—understatement of the
century—“but I have to go. If Leesa disappeared from Flighthaven, then I
don’t care what that missive says. Someone must know something, and the
only way I can find out is if I’m on the campus.”
Mother presses her fingers to her lips. “But you can’t stay there. It’s
dangerous. For you and for the other students if your magic suppressant
fails.”
Dangerous or not, I won’t let fear prevent me from doing everything in
my power to find my sister. “Of all the places I could go, Flighthaven is
probably the safest if I lose control. They literally teach people to use their
magic. And I don’t have to stay forever. Give me a little time before you ask
for the exemption.”
Mother must read my resolve. “How long? Two weeks?”
“Two week doesn’t sound long enough. Let’s shoot for four.” I can’t
believe I’m actually requesting extra time. Leesa owes me big time after
this. “If I don’t learn anything about where Leesa went in four weeks, I
probably never will. I won’t change my mind, so don’t bother trying. I
won’t abandon her like that.”
After searching my eyes, Mother agrees with a jerk of her head. “Okay.
But you have to promise to be careful. And to take your magic suppressant
every single day without fail. Remember what can happen if you don’t.”
Images of flames licking along the side of a wooden structure fill my
head. Flinching, I shove the unwanted memory back into a dusty corner of
my mind. Reliving the horror of that day isn’t necessary. I know what’s at
stake. “Believe me, I do.”

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 Chapter Three

Two days later, I’m tucked within the soft cushions of my mother’s
carriage, a team of two glossy bay horses drawing me closer to my doom
with every tap of their hooves. After my mother spent most of her waking
hours fretting and reminding me to take my daily dose of magic
suppressant, I found myself almost eager to trade tearful goodbyes and
embark on my journey.
Now that I’m alone, though, my anxieties flood through me like a
swollen river. First and foremost, I worry about Leesa.
I bite my lip. She must be alive. I feel it in my bones. No matter what,
I’ll find her and learn what took her away before the king excuses me from
service.
The ruthless fist gripping my body relaxes, and I breathe easier.
Although I hate to admit it, leaving the castle is akin to removing an
anvil from my throat.
The countryside—that I rarely had permission to see—is vaster than I
imagined, the vegetation thick, fragrant, and unlike what grows around the
castle.
The stretches of green plant life give way to barren sections where the
vegetation thins and everything is dying. Shriveled, dead bushes. Rotting
fruit. Naked trees. When we pass these areas, the air sneaking into the
carriage carries a faint, unpleasant odor.
 My heart sinks. Now that I’m venturing outside of my insulated bubble,
the gravity of the situation Royce described hits me. Mother and her friends
talked about our crop failures in Aclaris, but the excess food gracing the
castle’s tables during her parties certainly gives no indication that
production is dire.
I hope the land stretching along this road isn’t indicative of the state of
the rest of Aclaris. If so, our kingdom appears to be in a lot of trouble. No
wonder the families in our village struggle more these days. Dead crops
mean inflated prices, and the poorest among us have no extra resources to
spare.
I wonder if King Xenon understands how much these changes in crop
production impact Aclaris’s less fortunate citizens or if his luxurious palace
in the capital city insulates him from such pedestrian concerns.
A moment later, I chide myself. Our king must juggle so many
responsibilities and urgent needs, a difficult task made even more
challenging by the unrest between Aclaris, Tirene, and Kamor. Ridiculous
of me to assume he doesn’t care about the hungry simply because assistance
hasn’t reached our village yet.
All told, King Xenon is a million times more caring than whatever
poses as royalty in Tirene. A kingdom that sanctions unprovoked attacks on
civilians and children—like the one that stole my father from me—is a
kingdom that deserves to die out.
My mother never told me or anyone else that I was riding with him on
that fateful day. The only reason I know the truth is because I discovered
her in her bedchamber on his birthday when I was around ten years old. She
was clinging to his jacket and talking to his ghost about how she almost lost
me too that day, but the gods decided to give her another chance.
The carriage slows to a stop. Weird, since it’s too soon for us to have
reached Flighthaven.
Someone raps on the door. “Come in.”
Otis, one of the two guards Mother insisted accompany me, opens the
door and ducks inside. “Pardon me, milady, but the driver says we’re
nearing the last town before Flighthaven and it’s best you pull your shades
down.”
I frown. With all the shades down, the carriage interior reminds me of a
tomb. “Is there a reason the driver suggested this?”
 Otis settles into the seat opposite me. “He also recommended I ride with
you. Claims there are hard people in town and thinks it’s better if you don’t
see ’em.”
The reply makes me bristle. Better because I’m of noble birth, which
means I have delicate sensibilities? Or better for me in particular?
I know what people think. Poor, sheltered Lark. She’s much too weak to
survive the sight of impoverished people. Keep them hidden from view, and
they’ll cease to exist.
Gross. While part of me can appreciate the undoubtedly earnest attempt
to protect me, my mother’s coddled me enough to last an entire lifetime.
“By hard, does he mean poor?”
Otis clears his throat and fidgets with a loose thread on his tunic. “I’m
sure I couldn’t say.”
I snort. Funny. I never knew Otis could be so tactful. “Well, whatever he
meant, I feel confident that I won’t fall to pieces or faint either way.”
Otis nods. “As you wish.”
The window shades remain up as the carriage resumes rolling. The pace
is much slower due to the growing congestion in town, allowing me to
drink in the worn buildings and rows of small, ramshackle homes
constructed from flimsy wood. Passing the residences, we enter a large
marketplace. Cramped stalls stretch as far as the eye can see, and hawkers
shout their wares to the threadbare shoppers milling about, boasting of
everything from delicious sweetbreads and fine leather gloves to weaponry
and hats. The aroma of roasting meat mingles with the stench of rotting
garbage. I wrinkle my nose, but the people in the marketplace appear
immune. Many of their cheeks are sunken and gaunt, their clothing torn and
mended.
This, when the women who attend Mother’s parties drip with jewels…
each gem precious enough to buy everyone here clothing for years.
I make a mental note to talk to Royce about donating clothing upon my
return. In the meantime, barring emergencies, the food stores already
gathered and the coin I handed Luke before leaving should be enough to
provide for the needy.
“Hey, you!” A bellow from outside the carriage rips me from my
internal planning. “Come back here!”
Startled by the shout, I lean out the window.
 A small, thin boy dressed in ragged, homespun clothes bolts from
between the stalls, a plucked chicken in his hand. He races toward the
carriage.
“Hey, stop!” The yelling comes from a burly, red-faced man wearing a
blood-stained apron. Wielding a meat cleaver, he chases after the boy.
“Thief!”
Without even considering my actions, I wrench open the door and leap
out.
“Milady!”
Otis’s curse trails after me, but I don’t pause to wait. If he catches me,
he’ll kindly but firmly guide me back to the carriage. And given how
quickly the boy’s legs pump and the fear etched on his small face, him
getting caught could result in something dire.
I hurry toward the boy rushing in my direction. He sneaks another
glance over his shoulder and plows right into me.
“Oof.” With my breath knocked out and pain shooting from my stomach
to my throat, I can’t say much else.
The collision knocks the boy off his feet. He sprawls across the dirt, his
shirt torn open from the fall. The plucked chicken remains clenched in his
fist.
Panting, the butcher reaches us.
When I help the boy to his feet, he tries to wiggle away, so I wrap my
arm around his bony shoulders and hold tight.
“Much obliged to you for stopping that beggar and thief.” The butcher
shakes his meat cleaver at the child. “Once I lop off all your fingers, boy,
you won’t be stealing none of my other⁠—”
“He didn’t steal the one he’s holding.” I shield the boy from the man
and improvise on the spot. “He would have paid for your chicken…because
I asked him to get me one…except I forgot to give him the money.”
The boy stops wiggling and raises his dirt-streaked face to meet mine,
his round eyes bulging with astonishment.
The stunned butcher regards my too-fancy style of dress, threaded with
royal blue, gold, and silver. Mother insisted I wear this, claiming others
outside our castle would respect me because I’m dressed like a lady. Too
stressed, I refrained from arguing.
I would have preferred breeches. Around the castle, I wore the pair I
bought off the stable hand whenever Mother wasn’t around. I wish had
them on today in lieu of this hot, heavy, uncomfortable dress. Some of the
people here gawk at me as if I’m a phoenix risen from extinction. My
cheeks warm from all the attention. My pulse throbs in my throat.
So many people. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many at the same time
before. Along with the banquet of competing scents and noises, the scene is
a far cry from Castle Axton and a lot to take in.
Skepticism crosses the butcher’s face. “Yer saying you know this thief?”
The boy’s back to squirming. I tighten my grip to keep him still.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’ll pay for the chicken. Then we can
all be on our way.”
Before the man can comment, I reach into the pocket within my dress
and pull out a silver coin. Prior to me leaving for Flighthaven, Mother
insisted I take the silver and a few gold coins to pay off highwaymen who
might rob my carriage.
The butcher’s rheumy eyes sparkle. He licks his rotting teeth.
A constable dressed in a dark blue uniform approaches, his features
hard. “What’s going on here?”
The butcher speaks before I can. “She’s buying me chicken.” After
snatching the coin from my hand, the butcher bites down on the metal to
test its authenticity.
A faint crack sounds. One of his rotted teeth? Hopefully not.
With the coin safe in his blood-soaked fist, he spins on his heel. The
constable follows, leaving me and the boy in peace.
I loosen my grip on the child and offer him three more coins. “You have
to be more careful when you’re around someone carrying any kind of
weap⁠—”
Snatching the coins, the boy smacks my hand off his shoulder and darts
into the crowd, still clinging to the plucked chicken.
Though it must be killing them, Otis and Belton hold their tongues.
With the guards flanking me on each side, we head back to the carriage.
Otis helps me inside, easing back into the seat across from me before
breaking his silence. “Any regrets?”
“Just one. I wish I’d had a chance to give him more money before he
took off like that.”
The guard snorts but says nothing, and we resume our journey in
silence. I spend much of my remaining time pushing aside personal fears,
but as we turn onto the road leading to the sprawling academy, they come
rushing back with a vengeance. My magic’s unstable, my body’s weak, and
I’m terrified of alicorns and flying, but sure, surviving the king’s flight
program will be as simple as rumbleberry pie.
I thump my head against the window. Ugh. What in the hells was I
thinking?
My breaths quicken, one on top of the other. To calm my nerves, I force
myself to focus on a happy memory of stealing little honey cakes from
Cook with Leesa, the two of us giggling as we raced away to Leesa’s room
and gobbled them down from our hiding spot beneath her bed. Slowly, the
iron vice gripping my chest eases. I’m not saying the program will be easy,
but I can push through. Especially since joining the King’s Flyers is my best
chance of finding answers about Leesa.
Also, terrifying or not, Flighthaven provides me with the opportunity to
escape my mother’s gilded cage.
I adjust the cumbersome folds of my gown and settle back into the
cushioned seat. Whatever I’m picturing at Flighthaven, I’m sure the reality
is a lot less scary.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Four

The reality is, in fact, just as scary. I grip the lip of the carriage window, my
heart stuttering at the scene before me. Vast. That’s the first word that pops
into my head when the campus emerges before us. Flighthaven sprawls
across an expansive stretch of land. An army of formidable stone buildings
and structures rise from the ground and form two loose rings. Training
fields fill in the middle, along with pathways that shorten the distance
between buildings on opposite sides.
The second word that comes to mind? Forbidding. Jagged, bleached
cliffs curve to create the western boundary, stretching upward like giant
teeth chomping on the dark gray clouds. To the east, dense forest gobbles
the open space, and ancient trees lurk like silent sentries.
With a jerky motion, the carriage comes to an abrupt halt by an
enormous iron gate. A tall man in a sharp navy uniform standing guard
approaches the driver. “Name, please.”
From up top, Belton answers. “Lady Lark Axton.”
The guard shoots a glance at me through the window and nods. “Stop
here and unload all belongings inside the gate.”
Belton hops down from the driver’s seat and goes to collect my bag.
Otis exits the carriage and extends his hand to me. My clammy palm slips
in his as I climb out and follow Belton. Salty air, carried from the ocean
waves that crash against the far side of the cliffs, tease my nose. Belton
hauls my satchel past the iron gate and sets it on the ground.
 My new reality starts to sink in. “Uh, guess this is it. Have a safe trip
home.”
Belton murmurs “good luck” and heads back to the carriage.
Otis lingers and wraps a calloused hand around my shoulder. “This must
all seem intimidating now, but you’ve got this.”
I scoff. “Do I?”
His kind eyes reprimand me. “Just remember…your body may fight you
sometimes, but you’re strong where it counts. Here, and here.” First, he
knocks his knuckles on his skull, then over his heart. “You’re the finest lady
I’ve ever had the privilege of working for, and you’re a fighter. You can do
this.”
Emotion wells in my throat. “Thank you.” I sniffle, waving a hand in
front of my eyes to fend off tears. “You’re not so bad for a guard either.”
With a quick shoulder squeeze and one last smile, he leaves me. I watch
as he climbs up top to join Belton and the driver flicks his reins. When the
bays lurch forward, I entertain a wild impulse to leap inside the carriage and
hide until we arrive back to the safety of home. Then I remember my
purpose—Leesa—and the desire fizzles.
I let Otis’s faith bolster me. I can do this.
With a loud clang, the iron gate shuts. Shaking off the ominous thought
that I’ve just traded my figurative cage for a literal one, I turn to face my
temporary residence.
Nerves flutter beneath my skin like butterfly wings.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I force myself to picture Leesa among the
crowd, talking and laughing with friends as she heads to her next class.
She’s always been a people person, and based on the tone of her letters, my
sister thrived here. I open my eyes. Although my lips tilt up, the nagging
fear I’ve had since I learned of Leesa’s disappearance quickly chases the
smile away. During these last two days, the same questions have played
over and over in my mind.
What in the hells happened to my sister?
Where is she? Did she run away? If so, why? Or did someone kidnap
her?
What if she’s…dead?
I give myself a mental shake. If anyone can survive whatever it is that’s
happened, it’s my clever, resourceful sister. She’s alive. She has to be. I
refuse to believe anything else.
 Leesa once told me that an ancient castle stood on the grounds long ago,
and that some of the ruins went into Flighthaven’s construction. I can
believe it. Many of the buildings feature intricate carvings in stone
weathered enough to have existed in the time of the gods.
I’m so far out of my depth, I might as well be at the bottom of the
Darkmoor Sea. The campus is a far cry from Castle Axton, and I’m not sure
where to begin my search. As I tip my head back to check out a tower
offering a panoramic view of the grounds, my toe snags the hem of my long
silky gown and I stumble, flinging my arms out for balance.
This cursed dress.
I knew I should have braved Mother’s horror and worn the breeches.
A long wooden structure stands to the right of the massive stone
building. Topped by a slanted roof embedded with iron, it resembles the
horse stable at our castle, albeit ten times the length. I suspect the place
houses animals other than horses.
An icy knot forms in my throat.
Past the stable, an immense stone building sprawls out in the middle of
a dirt clearing and rises higher than my family’s castle.
Low rumbling comes from that direction, similar to the sound of a
thunderstorm still a village away. The ground trembles beneath my feet.
Despite the distance, the vibration rattles my stomach.
Dragons.
My attention flits from that to the streaks of black and brown overhead.
A group of four alicorns soars on the wind, carrying riders on their backs
and flapping their massive wings.
My stomach roils. No puking. If I show weakness so soon, I’ll be eaten
alive.
“Fledgling Lark Axton.”
Whirling, I face the owner of the clipped voice.
The woman standing before me reminds me of a marble statue with her
stiff posture and rigid spine. Her facial expression is a mask. Although
intelligence burns in her light gray eyes, they’re devoid of emotion. Her
short wheat-colored hair barely brushes her ears, and she’s dressed in the
same spotless uniform as everyone else. The garments skim her figure like a
second layer of skin, without one wrinkle or crease. The gold emblem
below her left shoulder marks her as a flyer, the rank above fledglings
indicating graduates of Flighthaven’s initial training program.
 With an almost imperceptible nod, she directs her unsettling gaze at me.
“Welcome to Flighthaven. I’m Flyer Quinnelle. Follow me.”
She pivots, taking off before I can protest. “Wait. My bag.”
I shoulder my satchel and hurry after Flyer Quinnelle.
Lugging my heavy satchel, I struggle to keep up with the woman’s long
strides. I attempt to come up with something—anything—to break the ice.
“This place is…massive.”
No comment. I wonder if Flyer Quinnelle hates everyone at first, or if
I’ve just managed to piss her off.
I clear my throat and try again. “Have you been here long?”
She stops, spinning back around to face me. “‘Have you been here long,
Flyer Quinnelle?’”
I guess that answers my earlier question. I’m barely out of the carriage
and someone at Flighthaven already despises me. Off to an excellent start.
Working to maintain my smile, I drop the burdensome satchel to the
ground. “Right, sorry. Flyer Quinnelle.”
Sweat dribbles down my back, and my shoulder already aches. I hope
my cheeks aren’t as flushed as they feel. Quinnelle won’t like me any better
if she witnesses my weaknesses.
The faint wrinkle over her nose as she inspects my face tells me she
doesn’t miss a thing. “Although you’ve come to us late in training,
Fledgling Axton, you’ll be required to start where your sister left off.”
Quinnelle pins me with her frigid stare. “Her flight unit’s been together for
six weeks, and your sister’s absence means they’re missing a fire elemental.
You’re expected to catch up.”
Catch up? How in Valk’s name am I supposed to do that? My startled
laugh carries a high-pitched, hysterical note. “There must be some mistake.
I know Leesa was likely an exemplary student and excelled here at
Flighthaven, but I’m not like her. In fact, we should consider me the
opposite. There’s no way I can jump right in and fill her place after missing
the first six weeks.”
Flyer Quinnelle stares down her nose at me. “I suggest you figure out a
way quickly. Flighthaven doesn’t have time to cater to pampered nobles
who lounge around stuffing their faces and dancing when they should have
been preparing themselves.”
Frustration squeezes my throat. I’m not an oracle. I didn’t predict
Leesa’s disappearance. Until we received the missive, I never dreamed of
attending Flighthaven. How could I? I failed all my magic tests, save for the
most recent one, and even then, my performance was dismal.
I dig my fingernails into my palms and bite back a sharp retort. I’d like
to see Quinnelle prepare for the king’s royal flight academy in two gods-
cursed days. Oh, excuse me. Make that Flyer Quinnelle. If that rod up her
ass gets any longer, she’s liable to poke a hole through her heart.
Careful. Best not to annoy the first person you meet.
“Will I receive extra training?”
She casts a sidelong glance at my dress, her eyebrows lifting in
disapproval. “Your instructors will make that decision.”
I nod, fighting the urge to hunch my shoulders and make myself smaller.
She starts walking again. “Grab your belongings. I’ll give you a brief
tour of Flighthaven.”
She points out the main building, a towering structure hosting offices
and classrooms, then moves on to the rectangular, three-story structures
with evenly spaced windows that make up the dorms. Beyond them is an
armory housing various weapons and equipment and a storage facility.
To the right of the main building is an impressive expanse of land
divided into multiple sections where exercises and practical lessons are
conducted. In the distance, by a cliff, is the magic training area. Then she
points out the dragon aerie and the stable I spotted earlier. Like I guessed,
the single-story structure houses alicorns.
As I take everything in, she indicates several more buildings, including
the commissary, infirmary, and mess hall, as well as an eyril production
center.
A moment later, I realize I’m alone, with Quinnelle headed toward the
stable. The last thing I want to do is piss her off more, so I gather my dress
in one hand and jog to catch up.
Inside one of the fenced structures, a solid black alicorn’s nostrils widen
from its quickened breaths. I swear the majestic beast’s obsidian eyes are
boring into my soul.
The creature stamps its hoof against the ground, sending bits of dirt and
pebbles flying.
I flinch.
With its gaze locked on me, the animal—far larger than any ordinary
horse—shakes its massive head. Then its enormous wings begin to unfurl,
and I can’t decide what I find more horrifying, the wings or the lethal horn
narrowed to a sharp point on top of the alicorn’s head.
My heart leaps…both at the animal’s magnificence and the danger it
represents.
Taking a step back, I fight down rising alarm at the thought of having to
ride one of these creatures.
I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, but the panic
doesn’t subside. As my anxiety builds, my palms start to sweat.
Shit.
I’m about to have a full-blown panic attack in front of Quinnelle, the
alicorn, and the handful of students milling about.
The thrumming whoosh of my heartbeat fills my ears, and my brain
empties of everything except the urge to flee. I spin and bolt, desperate to
put distance between myself and the terrifying creature.
I can’t do this. I can’t stay here and⁠—
A hard, muscled body smacks into me, or maybe I smack into…him.
The impact knocks me off balance. My bag slips from my shoulder and
goes flying. Strong hands grip my waist, and out of reflex, I grab onto a pair
of muscled biceps to steady myself. My palms buzz from the skin-on-skin
contact.
When I look up, my lungs seize.
The man holding me is incredibly attractive. No, attractive is too tepid a
word, as well as a massive understatement.
Stunning. Breathtaking. Beautiful.
Can a man be beautiful?
I decide right here and now that yes, this man is downright gorgeous…
and utterly dangerous.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Five

My mouth goes dry as I peer into a pair of expressive brown eyes flecked
with gold. His skin is a bronze hue, and shoulder-length black hair frames
the bone structure of a face that could have been chiseled by an artist. High,
proud cheekbones. Full, kissable lips. A strong, square jaw, featuring a thin
scar along the jawline that enhances rather than detracts from the overall
aesthetic.
When the sinfully attractive man clears his throat, I realize with a start
that I’ve been staring. I release his arms as if his warm skin burned. Good
gods, how long did I stand there gazing at him like some lovesick fool?
“Watch where you’re going.” He steps back in a fluid motion and
studies me, his full lips thinning into a harsh line. “I didn’t realize
Flighthaven was adding a fashion class to the schedule.”
His deep and throaty purr slides over me like velvet before his words
sink in.
Warmth creeps up my neck. “Excuse me?”
In contrast to the alluring quality of his voice, his expression could cut
glass. He folds muscled arms over a broad chest. “Do you need to work on
your listening skills as well as your walking?”
A small throng of students gathers around us, whispering and
snickering. Embarrassed heat spreads to my cheeks and chest. Once again, I
fight the urge to once. I’m not used to being the center of attention—I’m
barely used to leaving my castle—and can’t say I’m enjoying the
experience. At all. Apparently, everything about this man is perfect…except
his attitude.
Since running isn’t an option, I firm my shoulders, telling myself not to
judge. I bet he didn’t mean to be so sharp. I’m on edge, too, which probably
makes me more sensitive to discord than usual. Summoning a tentative
smile, I attempt to smooth things over. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bump
into you. I don’t know what else I may have done to offend you, but I’m
sure it was an accident.”
His icy gaze turns predatory as he crowds my personal space. “What
offends me, Duchess, is the fact that you’ve just arrived and yet are already
wasting my time.” He jerks his chin at my dress. “This is the royal flight
academy, not a place for you to flounce around in your finery or nightwear
in search of suitors.”
“I…what?”
I track his attention to an ivory silk nightgown that’s peeking out of my
satchel and pray for the ground to swallow me up as I hastily stuff the
garment back inside.
His gaze travels my body in a slow, insolent sweep, as if recording
every single weakness and flaw. When he finishes, the slight curl of his
upper lip confirms I’ve been judged and found wanting. “The next time I
see you, you’d better be dressed appropriately. We don’t have time for tea
parties here.”
Nearby, someone laughs out loud, covering their outburst with a cough
only when Mr. Hard-ass shoots a glacial glare in their direction.
Duchess? Tea parties?
Fire sparks in my veins, heating my blood and temporarily overriding
my common sense. “It’s too bad about the tea parties,” I snap. “You could
use a little sugar to sweeten your foul disposition.”
Remorse kicks in immediately. Shit. Did I really just say that out loud? I
clap a hand over my mouth, but of course it’s too late. The words already
escaped, and based on the shocked gasps, our audience heard them. I can’t
recall the last time my temper ran away from me like this. I blame stress…
and this aggravating man. Who knew such a beautiful face could be so
damn punchable?
The slow grin spreading across those delectable lips holds all the
warmth of a glacier. “Who am I? I’m your worst nightmare, Duchess. My
job is to judge you, and I’ll do so whenever and however I see fit. You’d
best pray my mood sweetens before I see you in training, because your. Ass.
Is. Mine.”
He stalks toward the stable with all the grace of an angry jungle cat. A
deep unease squeezes my ribs.
Showing the most animation since we met, Quinnelle shakes her head at
me and gives a low whistle. “That was inadvisable.”
As we watch him retreat, the bad feeling in my chest grows. I dread
asking my next question. “Who is that man?”
The flash of pity in her eyes warns me that I’m not going to like the
answer. “That’s Sterling Thorne. Your flight trainer.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Of course it is.”
Sterling Thorne. Expert flyer. Refugee from a war-torn kingdom, though
people debate which one. Worked his way up to join King Xenon’s guard
and then saved the king from a rogue dragon attack. One of the best
dragonriders around. Even I’m not living under a big enough rock not to
recognize his name. His last name did come up in one of Leesa’s letters
home, but I didn’t make the connection.
The ladies who periodically invaded our castle loved to titter about him.
How the king rewarded Thorne with gold and his choice of position within
the kingdom. How he was a common fixture in the palace. How incredibly
handsome and virile he was, enticing women to flock to him like crows to
breadcrumbs.
No one bothered to mention that he’s about as friendly as a hungry snow
bear with a toothache, or that he could cut a person to the bone with a single
icy glare.
Or that he’d left the palace for Flighthaven to act as a flying instructor.
My flying instructor. Who apparently only needed one good look at me to
confirm what I already know is true—that I don’t belong—and that’s before
he’s even learned about my terror of flying.
I allow myself a few moments to wallow in self-pity before squaring my
shoulders. I’m here now and committed to this course of action. Guess I’ll
have to prove us both wrong.
Flyer Quinnelle leads me past a rectangular building and into a huge
courtyard. Fluttering motion off in the distance draws my attention to a
sprawling field. Within the bed of a dark, sand-like substance, orange-green
tendrils wave in the salty ocean breeze. I count at least four guards stationed
around the perimeter.
I point. “What’s that?”
“Eyril.”
Though I’ve never seen eyril in plant form before, I figured as much
based on the guards. I wrinkle my nose at the odor emitting from that
direction, like sugar mixed with a faint hint of decay. The scent both entices
and repels.
“These are the dorms.” Quinnelle leads me inside the rectangular
building, up a single flight of stairs, and strides past two doors before
stopping in front of a third. “You’ll sleep here.”
She raps her knuckles on the door twice and pushes it open, revealing a
cramped space filled with three narrow beds, armoires, and tiny nightstands
constructed of dark wood. A single desk is pushed against the back wall
between two windows, and in one corner, a wash basin sits beneath a
mirror. The only splash of color comes from a red, blue, and gold rug—
Aclaris colors—stretched across the wooden floor, and the matching
curtains framing the windows.
The room isn’t much larger than the quarters shared by the scullery
maids at my family’s castle and a far cry from my opulent chamber, but
there’s something refreshing about the chamber’s simplicity.
The three beds are another story. I view the evidence of my future
roommates with a mixture of trepidation and hope.
Quinnelle gestures to the one closest to the door. “The bed with the
uniforms on it is yours. It was your sister’s until she…left.”
Left. Such an innocuous word to describe a person disappearing without
a trace. Throat burning, I walk over to the bed and drag my fingers across
the blue blanket, as if I can gather lingering traces of Leesa that cling to the
wool. Not long ago, my sister stood here, in this very spot. Slept in this bed,
stored her clothing in that dresser, washed her face in that basin, and
presumably went about her life like every other Flighthaven student.
I open the armoire and peek in all three drawers. Empty. Just like the
hanging space at the top. “Where are Leesa’s belongings?”
 “Protocol when someone leaves without permission is to hold their
belongings in the storage building until the investigation and ruling is
complete.”
My shoulders slump. There goes my bright idea to search for clues
among Leesa’s remaining possessions. Not that I expected to find much.
With the exception of a cup on one nightstand and a book on the other, the
room doesn’t boast any personal effects, despite the two other occupants.
“You have two minutes to change into your casual uniform, then I’ll
take you to the mess hall. Oh, before I forget, here’s your two-month ration
of eyril. Take three drops every morning. Do not take more than your
allotment. Overdosing is dangerous and no refills are issued prior to the
two-month marker, no exceptions.”
As she hands off the eyril, the hungry way her attention clings to the
dark glass bottle makes me wonder if I’m already a few doses short. Not
that I care. That nasty stuff isn’t getting anywhere near my mouth.
Quinnelle lingers a beat too long before exiting the room and closing
the door. Hurrying, I strip off my gown and pull on the pants and top. I’m
lacing up my boots when a roar shatters the air.
Rushing to the window, I peer into the early evening sky. The vanishing
sun casts a soft glow on the giant shape that coasts across the horizon while
flapping a massive pair of wings.
A tangle of awe and terror keeps me captive.
The mammoth, silvery-gray creature stands as high as the tallest trees,
yet glides through the wind with a dancer’s grace. After a few moments, I
spot the figure clinging to the dragon’s back. I gasp as the dragon tucks in
its wings and the duo plummets toward the ground, plunging with heart-
stopping speed. Just when I’m sure they’ll crash, the dragon pulls out of the
dive, swooping inches from a cluster of treetops before executing a barrel
roll and zooming toward the cliffs.
Goose bumps pebble my skin. I can only recall seeing a dragon in
person once before, back before my fire magic manifested when I was nine
or ten years old, but I still remember the exhilaration that swelled inside me,
filling me up until I felt like I, too, was soaring with the birds. I could
almost see the blue sky stretched out ahead of me…feel the wind brushing
my wings. Savor the sweetness of freedom on my tongue. And then, when
the rider yanked hard on the reins and altered my course, the frustration and
rage as I fought for control and failed.
 The experience left me dizzy and limp, with vivid hallucinations and a
shock of pain in my head. Mother expressed concern at the time, but
luckily, it never happened again.
Shaking off the past, I squint up at the sky. I’m too far away to
recognize the rider, but I’m certain it’s Thorne. Who else would ride like
that? He might possess the manners of a rampaging wildebeest, but at least
now I can understand the arrogance. Watching him and the dragon chase the
wind elicits a sharp pang in my chest—similar to when I tracked the birds
flying free outside my window at home—along with the tiniest glimmer of
hope.
Three sharp raps rattle the door. “Are you ready, Fledgling Axton?”
Turning from the window, I hurry to join Flyer Quinnelle, shivering
with fear and excitement as I prepare to meet the other fledglings.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Six

Quinnelle leads me to the mess hall, giving me a rundown of mealtimes.

The cavernous space features a large dining area packed with wooden tables
and benches, each long enough to seat at least twelve bodies. The resulting
cacophony caused by the chatter and rustling and clanking forks of all these
people scrapes my nerves. I resist the desire to slap my palms over my ears.
Too many eyes glue onto our arrival, and I long to slip in the shadows like I
often did back home whenever Mother hosted a party.
Not everyone watches. Some people ignore us, focusing on their meals
and conversations. But far too many stare with open curiosity, or worse, leer
and shoot me dirty glares. Whispers track our progress as Quinnelle guides
me to a table with an open seat at one end.
Quinnelle gestures to a young woman with auburn hair swept back in a
low bun. “This is Fledgling Holte, one of your roommates.”
I recognize the surname. The Holtes are one of the long-standing noble
families, though that designation could be in jeopardy. From the rumors
I’ve heard back home, they support our king while maintaining tentative
ties with the kingdom of Kamor. Due to clashes in the past, Aclaris is on
shaky terms with both Kamor and Tirene. It doesn’t help that Kamor seeks
to exploit our natural resources and keeps raising the prices on food exports,
which we desperately need given our recent struggles with failing crops.
The young noble flashes me a smile so warm that her eyes crinkle at the
corners. “Please, call me Olive. You must be Leesa’s sister.”
 Her friendly greeting loosens a knot in my gut. “Yes. I’m Lark.”
Quinnelle introduces me to several others at the table. I think. I can’t tell
for sure because overwhelm mode strikes and her words swim beyond my
grasp. Rubbing my damp palms on my trousers, I scan the nearby faces.
Two men sit across from each other on the far side of Olive, casting
interested glances at me before returning to their conversation. Olive turns
to the one closest to her and, while she’s distracted, the sandy-haired man
with twinkling blue eyes sitting beside her snatches a roll from her plate. He
tears a piece off, pops the sustenance in his mouth, and returns the half-
eaten bread to her plate with a wink.
The teasing gesture, so reminiscent of Leesa and my interactions at the
dinner table, soothes my buzzing nerves. I raise my eyebrows, and he lifts a
finger to his lips.
Finished speaking with Olive and another fledgling, Quinnelle
addresses me again. “Any questions?”
Plenty, but I lie since I don’t even know where to begin. “I’m okay for
now.” At her pointed stare, I add, “Flyer Quinnelle.”
These titles are going to take some getting used to.
“Excellent.” Quinnelle nods at Olive. “Fledgling Holte has agreed to
show you the ropes.”
After Quinnelle leaves, Olive shows me where to grab food. Tonight’s
meal is some type of savory stew, along with hunks of brown bread and
butter. I sit across from her and take a bite of my dinner.
“What the hell, Theo?” Olive slaps the back of the blue-eyed fledgling’s
head. “I know I still had a whole roll left.”
Although she’s glaring, her lips quiver like she’s fighting a smile.
“Ouch!” Theo rubs his head, his eyes wide. “Why do you automatically
blame me?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she narrows her eyes, “maybe because you have a
habit of eating other people’s food?”
“Fair point.” He chokes out a laugh, pushing back from the table. “I’ll
get you another one.”
“You’d better.” Olive shakes her head and takes a sip of her drink.
“Don’t let him fool you. Theo Everheart’s a pain in the ass sometimes, but
he’s the kind of guy who’ll always have your back.”
“Good to know.” I eye his retreating form. He’s tall and muscular.
Attractive in a boy next door sort of way.
 Once Theo returns with not one but two rolls, we resume eating, and I
enjoy the atmosphere of comradery and easy banter around us.
Out of the handful of people I’ve met here, Theo and Olive are by far
the friendliest. Down-to-earth, genial, and unpretentious, Olive is unlike
any of the nobles I’ve met at my mother’s soirees and dinners.
As I finish my stew, the hair on the back of my neck prickles. I send a
casual glance around the table and find cold brown eyes staring back at me.
The fledgling a few seats over from Theo was in the crowd during my
humiliating encounter earlier with the gorgeous jackass of a man.
He runs a hand through thick brown hair, and I try not to gawk at his
muscled arms. Even under his uniform, I can tell those massive limbs could
probably snap my neck as easily as I might snap a dry twig.
Note to self. Don’t piss this guy off.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to relax. “I don’t think we’ve met.
I’m⁠—”
“I know who you are.” Underneath his narrow-eyed scrutiny, I resist the
urge to squirm. “You’re Leesa’s sister, though I can’t say you look much
alike.” A sneer tells me his comparison doesn’t land in my favor. “Wouldn’t
surprise me if you end up like her.”
What in the hells is that supposed to mean? I straighten, my heartbeat
accelerating. “End up like her? Do you know what happened? Where she
is?”
His shrug kills the awakening hope in my chest. “I’ve heard different
theories, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she deserted.”
Deserted? Not my sister. “What makes you say that?”
“What else could have happened to her?” He drains his cup, setting the
vessel on the table with a clatter. “There were no signs of a struggle or foul
play.”
Despite his arrogance, relief floods through me. Just like the letter said,
my sister simply…disappeared. Which has to mean she’s still alive
somewhere. I refuse to believe otherwise.
Across from the hulking fledgling, someone snorts. “I have a different
theory.”
Even in drab uniform, the woman is beautiful, with ivory skin, striking
features, and high cheekbones. Her shiny, braided black hair wraps around
the crown of her head.
I swallow hard. “Oh?”
 She nods, throwing the massive man a condescending sneer. “Don’t
listen to Elijah. I heard she ran off with a Tirenese soldier.”
Tirenese? How would Leesa meet someone like that in the first place at
Flighthaven? “Why would she do that?”
A memory of the winged man’s attack near the tavern steals the warmth
from my bones. Leesa would never engage in a cordial exchange with a
monster like that, let alone betray our kingdom by running off with one.
“How would I know? We weren’t that close.” Her haughty tone reminds
me of some of my mother’s friends. “But with the way she was always
sneaking around…keeping secrets…it makes the most sense.”
The flicker of emotion lighting her eyes vanishes so quickly, I wonder if
I imagined the spark. My heart races as all kinds of scenarios play out in my
mind. I barely notice when Elijah and the raven-haired fledgling leave the
table.
“Hey,” Olive flashes me a sympathetic smile, “don’t pay any attention
to those two. They’re just trying to ruffle your feathers. Besides, it’s all
speculation.”
“I know. I just…” I want to find my sister, but dumping all my worries
on someone I met a mere half hour ago won’t help. Toying with my half-
eaten bread, I nibble my lower lip. “Who are they, anyway?”
Olive lifts an eyebrow. “Where were you when Quinnelle told you their
names?”
“Apparently lost in my own head.”
“Can’t blame you there. This is a lot to take in.” She wipes her hands on
her napkin. “Those are some of the other nobles. Elijah Durand and Helene
Mortimer.”
That further confirms my belief that Olive is the nicest noble I’ve ever
met. Leesa excluded, of course.
“Well, aren’t they a delight?” I make a face, doing my best to hide how
the inhospitable reception from my peers bothers me. It’s one meeting,
though. There will be plenty of chances to win them over. “I get the
impression they’re not thrilled I’m here.”
“Don’t take it personally.” Olive rolls her eyes. “They’re not crazy
about me either.”
I can only imagine. Life as the daughter of Kamor sympathizers can’t be
easy. “Politics?”
“Something like that.”
 “Oh, good. You two are still here.” Helene returns, balancing three
small dishes. “I brought dessert.”
Olive squints at the other woman. “Why?”
“It’s a peace offering.” Helene sets a bowl and spoon in front of each of
us before sitting on my right. “Since we have to train together, we might as
well get along.”
As the black-haired fledgling takes a bite of her dessert and launches
into a new technique she learned in combat training, I start to feel a little bit
guilty. Maybe I misjudged her. Helene wasn’t actually rude to me, just…
abrupt.
Olive gives an almost imperceptible shrug and digs into what appears to
be custard. “This is pretty good.”
I’d been too nervous to eat more than a bowl of stew, but I’m starting to
relax. With a friend or two in my corner, I just might make it through my
next month at Flighthaven without a nervous breakdown.
“Okay, you’ve twisted my arm.” Picking up my spoon, I scoop a large
bite of the dessert. The thick, creamy custard, with its delicious vanilla
flavor, melts on my tongue. “Wow, this is good.”
Helene smiles. “Right?”
The faint bitter aftertaste doesn’t register until I swallow a second
spoonful. I frown. “What’s…”
My tongue stops working.
My hand halts mid-air, the spoon halfway to the dish.
My entire body seizes, muscles locking up and freezing as if I’m
encased in ice. I can’t move, blink, or speak.
I can’t even suck air into my rigid lungs.
Panic swallows me.
Oh, gods. I’m going to die.
“Lark? Lark, are you okay?” When I don’t respond, Olive shoots a
murderous glare at Helene. “For Gallora’s sakes! What did you do?”
My heart’s racing so fast, I’m afraid it’ll explode. Whether that’s from
my ratcheting anxiety or whatever I just ate, I don’t know. I just know my
lungs are on fire, and I’m helpless. My vision blurs. I can’t breathe. Is this
what happened to my sister?
Leesa, I’m sorry.
I barely notice when Helene rises and lowers her mouth to my ear.
“Welcome to Flighthaven, newbie. Why don’t you run along to the
commander and beg to be reassigned? We both know you won’t hack it
here.”
She pats my shoulder and starts to walk away, pausing to glance over
her shoulder. “Oh, and if you tell anyone about this, I’ll make your life
miserable.”
Olive rises too. “Helene, tell me what you did. What the hells is wrong
with you?”
The sharp ring of Helene’s laughter cuts through my panic. “Don’t be so
dramatic. She’ll be fine in a minute.”
My lungs scream. A minute? I’m not sure I can last that long.
“What a bitch.” Olive drops back onto the bench beside me, her soulful
brown eyes brimming with concern. “Try to relax.” She shifts on the seat,
and I think she’s rubbing my back, but I still can’t feel anything. “It’s okay.
You’re going to be fine.”
What if I’m not fine?
I shake off the thought, willing my galloping heart to slow.
As the seconds drag by, dark spots dance in front of my eyes. My vision
darkens, and thoughts dissolve in my oxygen-starved brain.
This is it. I’m going to⁠—
A huge tremor wracks my body, releasing my muscles from their prison.
Gasping, I fight to suck air into my tortured lungs. I inhale one deep breath.
And then another. And another.
“Easy.” Relief laces Olive’s voice. “Slow down, or you’ll
hyperventilate.”
My limbs tingle, as if thousands of tiny needles are prickling my skin. I
move my fingers and wiggle my toes, taking more deep, slow breaths until
the awful sensation fades. “Does this happen often?”
She sighs. “Having some kind of toxin put in your food? Or hazing in
general?”
“Both, I guess.”
“The food toxin is a new one for me.” She gestures toward my barely
touched dessert. “And usually, it’s the commoners who do the most hazing.
Nobles typically don’t haze other nobles, but at Flighthaven, you just never
know.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Aren’t there rules against this sort of thing?”
She grimaces. “There are rules, but they only apply if you get caught…
or rat someone out. And trust me, you don’t want to do that.”
 Her shudder tells me what her words don’t. “No ratting. Got it.”
A quick scan of the mess hall forces Olive’s request home. So many
unfriendly faces in the crowd. Could one of them be responsible for Leesa’s
disappearance?
I rub the back of my neck. “Please tell me Helene’s room’s on the
opposite side of the dorms from ours.”
Olive grimaces. “About that…”
I groan. “By the gods, tell me she’s not our other roommate.”
“Okay. I won’t tell you that.”
I sigh. Unbelievable. What are the odds that the person who attacked me
within my first hour at Flighthaven is one of my two roommates?
Olive squirms, her displeasure at being the bearer of bad news written
across her delicate face. Not wanting her to fret on my account, I manage a
weak joke. “If you tell me she snores, too, that’s it. I’m running away.”
Her expression lightens, making my effort worthwhile. “The snoring
isn’t terrible. Promise.”
After reassuring Olive that I’m fine, I tell her I need a little alone time
to settle in before trudging toward the dormitory alone.
Students mill about and converse. As I approach, several cast furtive
glances at me and start whispering.
A freckled fledgling with a boyish face elbows his buddy. “Who comes
to Flighthaven in a dress?”
His tall, wiry friend snorts. “What do you expect from a noble?
Probably thought she was going to a party.”
Great. Apparently, more people than I thought witnessed my humiliating
arrival.
While the whispers and heckles go on and on, I do my best to tune them
out.
Once in the dorm room, I glance around to make sure I’m alone. Then I
flop onto my bed. After the day I’ve had, I don’t even care that the mattress
is thin and uncomfortable. Fatigue and helplessness threaten to overwhelm
me, and I push back against both.
Maybe Olive was right, and Helene’s prank was just hazing. Even so,
I’m not sure I’m up for a rematch in our room tonight. If I’m lucky, she has
after-dinner plans elsewhere and I’ll be fast asleep by the time she returns.
Welcome to Flighthaven, newbie.
 Helene’s venomous words ricochet through my head, sparking an image
of her malicious, onyx eyes.
But why? Why do that when I’d done nothing to her? Does she get off
on cruelty, or is it because I sat with Olive? Or did it have something to do
with Helene’s remark about Leesa sneaking around…about secrets? Does
Helene know more than she’s letting on about my sister? Someone in my
fledgling class must. I refuse to believe that Leesa vanished without a trace
and not a single person at Flighthaven has an inkling of what happened.
To find Leesa, I need to survive this place. Too bad that every minute
I’m here makes survival seem like more of an insurmountable challenge.
Dread crawls down my spine as my eyelids droop and drift shut.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Seven

After a long night tossing and turning, I rise before the sun, careful not to
wake Olive, who’s sleeping closest to me, or Helene, who snores softly
from the other side of the room. The last thing I want to do is explain
myself.
As quietly as possible, I rummage through my satchel in the dark until I
find my small leather pouch. I untie the drawstring. With a deep breath, I
pull out one of the compressed tablets Mother buys from her mysterious
alchemist and place the remedy under my tongue. For a few seconds,
nothing happens.
Even though I’ve taken the magic-suppressing pill for years, I brace
myself for the reaction my body’s about to have.
As the chalky white tablet dissolves, the odd, spicy taste floods my
mouth and invades my senses. Muscles clenched, I wait, counting down
from ten in my head.
…three…two…one…
The next assault hits. Intense pain slashes through me, as if a sharp
blade’s ripping my innards to shreds and hollowing me out. Teeth gritted, I
ride out the torture without a sound.
At home, I’d shriek into my pillow.
Here, I don’t have that luxury.
At last, the agony subsides. Though the pain the medicine inflicts is
terrible, the next part is even worse. The retreating ache leaves a suffocating
numbness in its wake. Like a living entity inside me is stuffed into a tiny,
airless, padlocked box stored someplace inaccessible. My muscles seize as
my body thrashes against the sensation. I breathe through the
claustrophobia, waiting for the worst to pass.
When it does, I shake out my arms.
I won’t be setting anything on fire today.
A horn blares, loud enough to make my ears ring. Olive shoots straight
up in bed, while Helene mutters a curse.
Yawning, Olive offers me a sleepy smile. “Good morning.”
Helene huffs as she stumbles out of bed. “What’s so good about it?”
Clad in the same type of sleepwear assigned to me, a loose-fitting pair
of navy pants and tunic, she rifles through her dresser and plucks out fresh
clothing. She stomps past us to the door, undoubtedly in search of a feeble
old woman to kick or a basket of kittens to drown. Though it’s also possible
she’s headed for the bathing chamber down the hall.
I turn to Olive. “Not a morning person, huh?”
Olive rolls her eyes. “Or an afternoon or night person either.”
I hop out of bed chuckling, but my mirth soon fades when I change into
my navy uniform. Today is my first full day at Flighthaven, and I’m not
sure what to expect. My nerves only worsen as I accompany Olive to the
mess hall for breakfast. Conversations halt, eating stops, and laughter quiets
as soon as we walk in, each fledgling focused on us instead.
The anxious flutters in my stomach explode into writhing, like I
swallowed a sack full of slugs. I lean in and drop my voice to a whisper. “Is
it going to be like this all the time?”
She shrugs, and I get the impression she’s not bothered. “Not with our
unit. I’m sure things will die down. I honestly don’t know if it’s you or me
that’s⁠—”
Out of nowhere, a leg shoots out and trips me. Hot coffee splashes down
the front of my shirt, burning as the liquid seeps into my skin. Laughter
breaks out, and everyone resumes their chatter.
Spinning around, I find none other than the hulking noble I met
yesterday. Elijah Durand.
His brown eyes widen in mock apology, and he sets his empty cup on a
nearby table before giving an exaggerated bow. “I’m so deeply sorry. I hope
your uniform isn’t ruined.”
From behind him, someone’s snicker quickly morphs into a cough.
 So many eyes watch us. The weight of those stares crushes my courage.
I grapple with the urge to cower, the swelling scorn scalding me worse than
the coffee. It’s tough to appear dignified while soaked and dripping brown
liquid all over the floor, but I do my best. I arrange my face into what I hope
is a friendly expression. “No harm done.”
Brushing past him, I don’t miss his smug grin. Bastard.
Despite the suppressant I took earlier this morning, my fingertips begin
to sting. Although I have little practice using my magic, intense emotion
seems to affect it. And now is not the time to test the limits of the drug.
Olive hands me a cloth napkin, which I use to wipe up as much of the
spill as I can, thanking the gods for the dark Flighthaven uniforms. “If you
hurry, you can change and still get back in time to eat.”
Nodding, I snatch a muffin off my plate and head back to the dorms.
After cleaning up and redressing, I dawdle long enough to miss the rest of
breakfast. Cowardly, sure, but I don’t feel up to crossing swords with Elijah
or Helene again before I step foot into my first class.
The same horn from earlier blares. From my lurking spot beneath a tree,
I observe the other students as they leap to their feet in a flurry of motion,
shoving their last bites of food into their mouths and stacking dirty plates in
empty tubs. Locating Olive’s auburn hair in the herd of fledglings streaming
out the doors, I fall in step by her side.
She slants me a grin. “You ready for your first class? Strength training.
Exercises to build up our muscles so we can ride the alicorns and battle the
Tirenese during flight.”
“Define ‘ready.’”
Sympathy softens her features. “Don’t worry, you’ll do fine.”
At least one of us has some confidence.
Following one of the paths that zigzag through the fields that separate
the buildings, we trail a trio of students to a large rectangular structure. The
main room is huge, close to the size of the Great Hall in my family’s castle.
That’s where the similarity ends. Rather than gold, silver, and purpleheart
wood adorning the interior, everything’s a solid gray—even the large mat
that dominates the center of the room.
An older man with a thin but athletic build and short silver-streaked hair
shoves two fingers into his mouth. The piercing whistle that follows makes
me wince.
 Students surge into motion. They fall into two neat horizontal rows,
shoulders pulled back, eyes front, chins high. I follow their lead, taking a
spot next to Olive.
When the silver-haired man turns his attention to those fledglings on the
far left second line, I whisper to Olive. “Who is he?”
Eyes on the instructor, she keeps her voice low. “Instructor Broderick
Kinneck. He’s in charge of strength and conditioning. Fair, but kind of a
hard-ass. Try not to piss him off.”
Great. Another hard-ass like Thorne. Was there a buy one, get one free
special or something?
Kinneck whistles again. If the training doesn’t kill me, that shrill noise
might. “On the mat. Now. Give me fifty push-ups.”
My heart sinks. Upper body strength is not one of my strong points.
Mimicking the students around me, I drop to the floor. I stick my legs
straight out behind me, bend my elbows, flatten my palms on either side of
my head, and then push until my chest rises and my arms are straight.
One.
Grunts fill the room. The other fledglings race through their repetitions
like it’s as natural as walking. Not me. I’m much slower and can feel my
arm muscles burn by the fifth repetition. By the tenth push-up, they’re
shaking. Enough that I already need to take a break.
Kinneck’s polished black boots appear by my head. “Fledgling Axton,
what are you doing?”
“Push-ups. Sir.”
He toes my ribs. “Are you sure? Because it looks like you’re napping.
Are you napping, Fledgling Axton?”
Snickers break out to both my left and right. Olive makes a worried
moan.
“No, sir.” Gritting my teeth, I struggle to lift my torso again. I’m
wobbling worse than earlier.
“Good, because there’s no napping in my class.” Kinneck’s voice
booms through the cavernous room. “Push, Axton! Push.”
By the time I complete my twentieth push-up, sweat drenches me, my
head spins, and my ears buzz. A wave of fatigue sweeps my body, a
common occurrence when I’m physically active. Most of the other
fledglings have already finished, including Olive. Their eyes bore into me,
urging me to dig deep down and find more strength. I manage five more
before I rest on the mat, panting.
Kinneck claps his hands. “Let’s count Axton through the remainder of
her repetitions. Twenty-five more. If she takes another break before
finishing, I’m adding another twenty for everyone else.”
If I felt eyes on me before, the attention is far worse now. The other
fledglings gather in a circle around me, nailing me with disgusted glares
and sneers. Their voices form a disgruntled chorus. “One. Two. Three.”
My arms ache, and I’m sweating buckets. I give the exercise my all,
pushing through the fire in my muscles to straighten my quivering arms. I
can’t fail. If I do, the entire class pays the price. Then even the ones who
don’t hate me on sight will.
“Ten. Eleven. Twelve.”
Only thirteen more, then I can stop. I can do this.
I struggle through one more rep. Two. On the third, my arms give out
and I collapse face-first. Attempting to straighten the limbs again feels like
someone spearing my muscles with a red-hot poker. Demoralized, I groan
my defeat into the gray mat. Outraged howls follow.
“No!”
“Are you serious? What kind of weakling are you?”
“Maybe we should make her go missing too.”
The jeers are plentiful, but it’s that last one, uttered by a male voice, that
prompts me to sit up and check for the source. It proves an impossible task
considering just about every fledgling besides Olive looks like they’d be
happy to chuck me into a dragon’s mouth.
Kinneck whistles. “Alright, fledglings. Drop and give me an extra
twenty.” While bodies hit the mat on either side of us and begin another
round, Kinneck glares at me. “Next class, you’ll do better.”
Or else. Though he doesn’t verbalize the warning, I hear it. I nod, trying
not to stress about how in the hells I’m supposed to pull fifty repetitions out
of my ass before our next session.
The remainder of the exercises play out in much the same way, with me
struggling and Kinneck tacking on extras to the class on my behalf. If I
thought the ugly glances and whispers were bad before, they’ve got nothing
on the animosity currently aimed my way. By the time Kinneck leads us
outside to a field to line up for sprints, the expressions on most of my
classmates’ faces indicate they’d gladly toss me off the nearest turret. I’m
hoping the sprints will go better since I race up and down the castle stairs
several times a day.
On the first sprint to the fence and back, I do okay, even though I’m
panting harder than the others. By the third one, I struggle to catch my
breath, and that’s before a root bursts from the ground out of nowhere to
trip me. I fall hard, scraping my palms and bruising my dignity as some of
my peers chuckle. A quick peek lets me know that Kinneck either didn’t
notice or doesn’t care that another fledgling used elemental magic against
me, so I jump to my feet, dust myself off, and launch right back into the
exercise.
By the fifth sprint, my mouth waters and my stomach churns, and by the
seventh, I double over and heave my breakfast onto the ground.
Kill me now. Please.
Kinneck strides over. “Fledgling Axton, this is no time to watch the
grass grow. Run, Axton! Run.”
I wipe my mouth on my sleeve, stumbling forward. Tears sting my eyes,
and my throat aches, but I don’t cave to my emotions. Steeling myself
against the nausea and endless pain shrieking through every part of me, I
run and run and freaking run.
Forget about making it through the next month. I’ll be lucky if I survive
the day.

Geography follows our conditioning class. I collapse into a chair next to

Olive in the round lecture room. Every single inch of my body hurts, and
it’s all I can do not to put my face on the table and fall asleep. The only
thing keeping my head up and my eyes open is the threat of our current
instructor copying Kinneck and assigning everyone extra work because of
me. As it is, a fellow fledgling tripped me on the walk over, and another one
used air magic to shove me into the door as we shuffled in. I can already
feel an ugly bruise forming on my shoulder.
Instructor Scalor is a petite blond woman with pale, freckled skin and
piercing hazel eyes. She wears a smart navy uniform with gold trim on the
neck and sleeves of her top. Standing at the podium, she waits for everyone
to settle before speaking. “At the end of last session, I asked you to read
about the topography of some of the far Northern kingdoms. Who can tell
me about the topography of Northern Volox?”
She gestures at a student in the front row, and I do my best to pay
attention as the discussion begins. By the end of class, I’ve learned about
the glaciers, ice-covered mountain ranges, and the treacherous crevices
located within them that are features of the far Northern kingdoms, and I’ve
studied cartographers’ renderings of the area. The class is interesting
enough to keep me from nodding off, though my mind still wanders.
Lunch comes next. After puking up breakfast, I should be eager for
food, but I’m not. My legs wobble like jelly, and I’d love nothing more than
to shower and crawl into bed. Too bad the day’s not even halfway over.
Once we grab our meals, Olive leads the way to the table. Two men sit
in the chairs next to ours. I recognize them from last night at the mess hall.
Setting her tray down, Olive points her spoon at the lanky, dark-skinned
one. “Lark Axton, this is Abel Rummon.” She swings her spoon to the other
man, who possesses a broad chest and wavy brown hair. “And that’s Nick
Pendrick. They’re the other members of our flight unit.”
Nick holds out his hand, and I take it. “Nice to meet you.” His greeting
is curt, and a crevice forms between his brows as he studies me.
Abel gives a wordless nod, the ghost of a smile on his face.
As we eat, we fall into light conversation. I wait for one of them to
mention Leesa, but neither does. Once I’m finished picking at my roasted
chicken, I take matters into my own hands, setting my fork aside and
knotting my fingers in my lap. “So, since she was part of your flight unit,
you both must have known my sister Leesa pretty well. I’m hoping one of
you might have a clue about what happened to her or where she vanished
to.”
The two of them exchange a glance. Hope straightens my spine. Could
it be as easy as this? Do they know something they’re willing to share?
Nick shakes his head. “I have no idea where Leesa went. If I did, I
would have already reported it to Commander Bigley.”
Abel scrapes up his last bite of chicken. “Me either.” His expression
softens when I deflate against my chair. “There was no blood found…no
body. That’s a good sign.”
No blood or body found. That doesn’t mean someone didn’t take Leesa
far away from Flighthaven to murder her. Or dump her at the bottom of the
ocean. Or feed her to a hungry dragon. Stab and hide her in the eyril fields.
“You didn’t hear anything at all about where she might have gone?”
They trade a longer look before Nick shrugs. “We hear plenty, from
people who like to stir up drama. It’s all absurd conjecture and rumor.”
Abel drums his fork and knife on the table. “He’s right. For example, I
heard someone say Leesa left because she wanted to become a baker. All
based on her complaining that the last batch of apple-spice cake was too
dry.” He yelps a moment later and drops his utensils to rub his ankle. “What
the hells, Nick? What was that for?”
Nick swallows a bite of his food. “You were shaking the table again.”
Abel glances down at his hands. “Was I? Oops.” With a clandestine
wink at Olive, he grips the cutlery and begins drumming again.
A muscle tics near Nick’s right eye.
Olive traps Abel’s hand to the table by placing hers over his. “Children.
Let’s not keep this going until one of you ends up with a fork to the eye.
Sorry, Lark. What were you saying?”
“Do any of you at least have an idea of when Leesa disappeared? The
missive gave us a day, but that’s it. Was it morning? Afternoon? Evening?
Do you know who saw her last?”
Olive holds up a finger while she finishes a sip of water. “The day
before she went missing, she went to all her classes as usual. After dinner, I
only saw her briefly in passing before I fell asleep. I wasn’t feeling well that
day and went to bed early. When I woke up the next morning, she was gone.
I didn’t see her in the mess hall for breakfast, and she didn’t show up to her
first class.”
“What about Helene? Did she see Leesa go to bed that night?”
Olive shakes her head. “No, but that’s not unusual. In the week or two
prior to that night, Leesa was often the last one back to the room before
bed.”
“Was that typical for her?”
Olive hums and traces her eyebrow with her thumb. “Now that you ask,
no, not really. It seemed like maybe she had something on her mind.”
The horn signaling the end of lunch trumpets. As we rise to carry our
dirty plates, I make a mental note of my follow-up questions for later. Olive
nudges me with her shoulder. “Leesa’s a badass, so try not to worry. It
won’t help, and joining training this late in the game will be difficult
enough as it is. At least give yourself a few days to settle in.”
 She has a point. I need to learn the ropes at Flighthaven before I do
anything else. With a sigh, I redirect my attention to our upcoming class.
“What do we have next?”
“My favorite.” Olive’s eyes sparkle. “Flight training.”
My stomach cramps, the food souring in my gut. It takes everything in
my power not to vomit for a second time today.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Eight

After making a quick trip to the bathing chamber to splash water on my

face, I pull myself together and head to the alicorn enclosure, where Olive
told me our training class meets.
The rest of my unit gathers outside one of the paddocks, along with a
handful of other recruits. Olive shoots me a concerned glance, but I mouth,
I’m okay.
“So glad you could join us, Duchess.”
That voice.
As soon as recognition hits, my blood chills to ice. So much has
happened since yesterday’s encounter that I forgot who the flight instructor
was. “I’m…” I make eye contact with the gorgeous jerk I smacked into
outside the alicorn stable, and Ziva help me. He’s not just attractive. He’s so
beautiful, he could be a god himself.
His gold-flecked eyes are unimpressed. “You’re what? Testing my
patience? That goes without saying.”
As haughty as a god too. I clear my throat, ignoring the muffled
laughter from other students. “I apologize for being late. It won’t happen
again.”
“Oh, I know it won’t.” He stalks over to me and leans in, close enough
for his warm breath to graze my ear. Power rolls off him and zips along my
skin like tiny lightning bolts, stirring the shiver that sweeps across my neck.
“Because next time you’re late, you’ll be mucking out the alicorn stable for
a month. Do I make myself clear?”
No one makes a sound, but I don’t miss the gleeful smirk on several of
the nearby students’ faces. Including Elijah’s.
Nodding, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something
that will make him carry through on his threat.
He gazes down at me from his taller height like he can glare me into
submission. Despite my instinct to put more space between us, I refrain
from taking a step back. Something tells me he would enjoy forcing me to
retreat, and I find myself bristling at the idea of rolling over and showing
this man my belly like a chastised puppy. “In my class,” his voice is low
and menacing, “we use our words like adults.”
Maybe if you behaved like a reasonably well-adjusted adult instead of
an arrogant ass...
I swallow the snark rising to my tongue and manage a conciliatory tone.
“Sorry. You made yourself clear. I’ll endeavor to be on time in the future,
since I have no interest in cleaning the alicorn stable.”
His lip curls. “You think honest labor like mucking out stalls is beneath
you. What a surprise.”
All I can do is gape. Fuck knows what’s wrong with this guy. I just
agreed with him. He should be happy. Instead, he’s acting like I offered him
a bowl of dried dragon dung. Even so, the smart thing to do is shut my
mouth and fade into the background, but my stubbornness kicks in.
Seriously, what’s his problem? “Instructor Thorne, did I do something to
upset you? Besides being late for class, that is.”
His eyes narrow. “Everything about you upsets me, Axton. Not another
word out of you unless you want to get started mucking out those stalls
now.”
Pivoting, he stalks to the front of the class. I gawk at his broad back,
cheeks ablaze with embarrassment and anger. The nerve of this guy. I’d
trade him for Kinneck in a hot second. Even if that meant triple the number
of push-ups and barfing twice as much.
Wearing brown flight leathers molded to his muscular build, Thorne
surveys the crowd like royalty with a wide stance and crossed arms. His
hard gaze sweeps over the waiting faces. “Today, you’re going to practice
flight formation again. We’ll continue to do so until you get it right. Grab
your mounts and be ready for training in ten minutes.”
 Everyone scrambles to obey. Wasting no time, I fall into step with Olive
as she heads to the alicorn stable.
Not having a clue what to do, I catch up with her before she enters the
structure. “How do we prepare an alicorn to fly?”
My pulse kicks up, and I try not to think about the powerful, dangerous
creature I saw yesterday. Because I’m about to get up close and personal
with one.
“We saddle them.” She glances at me from over her shoulder. “Don’t
worry. It’s really not hard. I’ll show you which one was Leesa’s and what
you need to do.”
She disappears into the ominous building, but I’m rooted to the ground.
Snared by my own fear, my feet remain planted in the same spot when Nick
emerges, leading a prancing alicorn.
My heart beats double time. I forget to breathe. Tiny beads of sweat
form on the back of my neck, trickling down in icy rivulets.
Stay calm. Just. Stay. Calm.
Nick passes with the alicorn, and the monstrous dark bay creature looks
—actually looks—me in the eyes.
I rub the scar on my forearm, squeezing my eyes shut as flashes of
memory assault me.
Wind whips through my hair, caressing my face like a frosty kiss. I
giggle, and warm laughter rings out from behind me. A strong arm tightens
around my waist.
Then shouts erupt. An animal shrieks. Something hard and unyielding
crashes into my side.
Fiery pain explodes in my body as my stomach dips, then plummets.
Someone screams, and my vision fades.
“Are you finished daydreaming?”
Daydreaming? I wish. More like waking nightmaring. Swaying on my
feet, I open my eyes, taking in quick, shallow breaths. “Yes. Sorry.”
Thorne stands mere feet away, holding the reins of a massive silvery
gray alicorn. The animal stands several hands taller than the average saddle
horse, dwarfing the brooding instructor. In front of a pair of beautiful,
feathered wings, a leather saddle is strapped to its muscular back, and a
matching bridle with reins attached clings to its thick muzzle. The regal
creature tosses its head, its dark mane rippling in the light breeze. Glinting
in the sunlight, a black horn almost the length of my entire arm juts out
from the middle of its forehead.
A weapon in and of itself.
I inch backwards, because no thank you. My racing heartbeat throbs in
my throat. Thorne starts barking orders, but a terrible screech drowns him
out. Shouting follows.
Between us and the stable, two alicorns face off in an obvious
challenge. A black one dappled with white spots rears up on his hind legs
while his tan-colored opponent lowers his head and hooves the dirt.
The riders atop their backs yell and yank on the reins, but their mounts
must be too enraged to care. The spotted one paddles his front hooves and
lashes out, missing the tan alicorn by a hair as she dances away.
Thorne curses. “Davon! Oversaw! What the fuck are you doing? Get
your mounts under control!”
The petite woman on the dappled alicorn talks to her mount and rubs his
neck. The man on the tan alicorn viciously wrenches the reins to one side
and jams his heels into the animal’s ribs. The beast squeals.
Our flight instructor growls. “Hurt that alicorn and see what happens. I
dare you.” If I thought his tone was frigid when dealing with me, it’s pure
ice now. “Axton. You’ll need to take Zephyr’s reins while I⁠—”
A bloodcurdling scream cuts him off. When I see the reason, bile barrels
up my throat.
The spotted alicorn’s horn protrudes from the opposing rider’s thigh like
a godsdamned spear. With a furious shake of his head, he plucks the rider
from the saddle and chucks him to the ground.
“Never mind,” Thorne continues calmly, as if he’s chatting about the
weather, “looks like they resolved it amongst themselves.”
The injured rider sobs, rolling in the dirt while clutching both hands to
his wound. Crimson paints his skin, matching the blood dripping from the
spotted alicorn’s horn.
Meanwhile, both animals are now calm as can be, grazing on grass side-
by-side.
Bile scorches my throat. “Ziva save us. This can’t be happening.”
Thorne further stuns me by remaining in his current spot, watching the
fledgling bleed like it’s an everyday occurrence. Hells, for all I know,
maybe it is. “Someone help Davon walk to the infirmary. I doubt he nicked
the main artery, but it’s always a possibility.” His voice sounds bored, like
he couldn’t care less if Davon did get gored through a major artery.
“Mortimer, grab Surge and give him a thorough inspection before returning
him to his stall.”
Helene races over to the spotted alicorn and snags the reins.
What type of insanity is this? “That’s it?” I whisper. “That’s all you’re
going to do?”
He ignores me. “Oh, and Davon,” he calls after the limping man, “you’d
better hope there are no cuts on the inside of your alicorn’s mouth, or else
that leg wound will be the least of your worries. Everyone else, get to
work!”
All around me, riders scramble to comply. Within seconds, alicorns start
launching into the sky.
Pivoting back to me, Thorne levels me with his steely gaze. “I need to
assess your skill level.”
Is he joking? “You want to assess my skill after all that?” I circle my
hand to encompass the location of the alicorn showdown, avoiding looking
at the blood seeping into the dirt.
His glare tells me that’s a stupid question. “Do you have any previous
experience on alicorns?”
Sure do, if falling off one and almost dying at the age of four counts.
“No.” My pulse finally starts to level out.
“How much experience do you have riding horses?”
I shuffle my feet. “A bit, but not much.”
None, if it were up to my mother. On those rare occasions when she
used to allow me to leave the castle, she kept me tucked away in the
carriage. When I turned sixteen, I bribed the old stablemaster to teach me
the basics. But I only ever get a chance to ride when I sneak out at night.
Thorne glowers at me as if my mere existence offends him. “What the
fuck kind of noble doesn’t have much experience riding a horse? You’d
better hope you’re a fast learner.” With a heated glare, he rakes his fingers
through his black hair, cursing when they snag on the leather cord tying it
back. His other hand thrusts the reins at me. “This is Zephyr. Go ahead and
mount him.”
Mount him. Just climb onto that giant beast’s back and let him propel
me into the sky. While I’m sure more horrifying activities exist in this
world, right now, I’m drawing a blank.
 My mouth goes dry as I peer into the expressive eyes of the powerful
animal before me. An unblinking Zephyr gazes back at me, as if taking my
measure. Sweat beads on my brow, and despite my best effort, the hand I
raise to wipe it off trembles. The alicorn’s dark eyes track the motion. He
huffs, pawing the dirt with one giant hoof before turning his head away like
he comprehends my show of fear and finds the emotion display annoying.
“Today, Duchess.”
Or maybe that’s my own irritation I’m sensing. My skin prickles, and I
draw in a shaky breath, steeling my resolve. I take a tentative step forward.
And then another.
Strong arms snake around my waist and hoist me into the saddle. “My
grandmother is faster than that.”
I go rigid, white knuckling the reins as Thorne continues his tirade. But
I don’t hear him. Blood pounds in my ears as fear skitters down my spine
like thousands of tiny spiders.
I’m sitting. On a godsdamned alicorn. After watching another gore the
ever-loving snot out of a student’s leg.
I can’t think. I can’t move.
Thorne’s hand lands on my knee, jolting me to my senses. “Breathe.”
With jagged gasps, I attempt to comply, but I can’t suck enough air into
my lungs. Panic seizes my chest, and cold sweat breaks out across my
forehead. My limbs start to tingle.
“Please.” With my free hand, I clutch at my throat, trying to catch my
breath. “I think…I think I’m…” My head lolls, and the edge of my vision
blurs.
“For fuck’s sake.” Thorne grabs me again, hauling me off Zephyr. He
mutters something as he sets me on the ground like I weigh next to nothing,
but I can’t make out the words.
My grip on the reins loosens, and my knees buckle. Arms flailing, I
collapse on all fours, shaking.
“What are you doing?”
I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. The ground starts to spin.
No. Please, no.
My vision fades as my head hits the grass.
Fingers press against my neck, and my eyes flutter open.
Crouched next to me, Thorne checks my pulse.
 Dazed, my gaze travels over his magnificent features. I gulp when my
eyes land on that sinful mouth.
He quirks a single brow. “Memorizing my face so you can sketch it
later?”
Busted. Heat warms my face and I bolt upright, wincing as my temples
start to throb. “What?”
His smirk tells me he’s aware that I heard him. “Easy. You blacked out
for a bit. Does your head hurt?”
Surprisingly gentle fingers feather across my forehead and temples,
searching for injuries. The skin he touches buzzes with a type of tingling
awareness that doesn’t fit the situation, so I scoot out of reach. “A little, but
I’m okay.” He doesn’t say anything, instead regarding me with silent
appraisal while I do my best not to squirm. “I didn’t mean for…well…I
didn’t mean to pass out.”
“Obviously.” With a heavy sigh, he breaks eye contact. “Ready to
stand?”
I nod. “Yes…sir.”
Thorne rises, then offers me a hand, pulling me to my feet. He holds on
for a moment before releasing me, and an emotion I can’t interpret flickers
across his face. “What happened?”
My body sags with relief. If he couldn’t tell my little fainting spell was
courtesy of an anxiety attack over alicorns, I’m not about to divulge that
information. Nothing good could come out of everyone learning about my
fear of flying. Such a huge obstacle to success might lead Commander
Bigley to evict me from the program, and I can’t risk ejection yet. Not until
I’ve had time to investigate Leesa’s disappearance.
Employing a tactic that works on my mother, I rub my temples and
groan, adding a little stagger for good measure. “A dizzy spell. I get them
from time to time.” Not a complete lie. I do struggle with dizzy spells.
That’s just not what caused my alicorn fail today.
He turns to Zephyr, who’s waiting in the same spot I left him. “Go to
the infirmary and get checked out. We’ll complete your assessment next
class.” He mounts with fluid grace, and the alicorn starts to prance. “Don’t
be late, Duchess.”
Before I can say anything, they’re gone.
Massive silvery gray wings unfurl, beating the air as Zephyr climbs the
sky and heads for the rest of the class. Except for my flight unit, all the
other students are arranged into groups of four. They form diamond shapes,
with one flyer in front, one in the back, and two in the middle. My unit is
the sole anomaly, since they’re down a member. At any other time, the
formations would captivate me, but right now, I can’t tear my eyes away
from Thorne.
I shouldn’t stand here mesmerized, but I can’t help myself. They’re
incedible…both rider and alicorn. Especially from this distance, since
Thorne’s too far away to tarnish the image by opening his obnoxious
mouth.
Blowing air from my lungs, I dutifully trudge to the infirmary. Three of
the cots lined up against the far wall are occupied. One by a woman with a
bright red and blistered hand, another by a man with a bandage over one
eye.
Davon rests in the third one, moaning and giggling softly. Someone cut
the fabric off his injured leg, showing off a thick pressure bandage wrapped
around his thigh.
A freckled medic greets me with a harried smile. He’s a young man in
his twenties, wearing a navy uniform with red trim to indicate his position.
“Fledgling Axton, what can I do for you? I’m Medic Keller.”
He sets down a jar and steps away from the cabinet, leaving the doors
open to reveal medical supplies organized into neat stacks.
I blink. “You know who I am?”
He puffs his narrow chest. “I read everyone’s file before they arrive.
That way, I’m prepared to treat whatever existing ailments they have.”
The mention of files captures my attention. “Flighthaven has files on all
the students, even before they arrive?”
Keller scoffs. “Of course they do.”
“What all’s in there? Do you know?”
I worry my question will draw scrutiny, but my curiosity doesn’t faze
him. “Just what you’d expect…medical history, schooling, the results of
any previous magic testing. That sort of thing.”
Okay, that’s a little creepy. Does Flighthaven accumulate all that
information about possible future attendees over the course of their lives,
then? They must. Otherwise, how would they have gathered my health
history? The missive didn’t request any, and only two days passed between
the time the missive arrived and my arrival here. I suppose they could have
sent a follow-up missive via alicorn or dragon, though that seems wildly
inconvenient.
Files are good, though. Leesa’s files, in particular. There could be an
overlooked clue in them.
I want to ask where the files are kept but decide not to press my luck.
I’m sure it can’t be that difficult to figure out. “You probably want to know
why I’m here.” At his encouraging nod, I fill in the medic about my little…
episode. Minus the fear of alicorns bit.
He begins a gentle inspection, turning my head this way and that. “No
bleeding?”
“Nope.”
“Great. We’re running low on bandages and the other medic is out sick,
so I have no idea when I’ll be able to run to the storage building to restock.”
He gestures to the cabinet. After a little searching, I spot the bandages
on the middle shelf. Sure enough, the stack is on the short side.
Filing that information away for later, I focus on the examination. After
a friendly lecture on the importance of eating enough and getting adequate
sleep, Keller declares me “the picture of health”—the first time in my life
that’s ever happened—and sends me off with a smile.
At least someone on staff is friendly in this place.
Before I leave, I gesture at Davon. ‘How’s he doing?”
Keller glances at the student. “Him? About as good as you can do after
an alicorn shoves its horn through your leg. He got lucky. The alicorn
missed the main artery. He’s on a strong pain concoction now and a little
out of it.”
Huh. Thorne called it.
With time to kill until my flight unit and the others return from their
training, I’m eager to explore the grounds. I have to find out what happened
to my sister.
My first stop is the elegant stone building that hosts personnel offices,
meeting places, and other professional spaces. I wander around the
sprawling corridors until I find the records room.
If there’s a file on me, there must be one for Leesa too.
The moment I approach the door, a sentry regards me. Without thinking,
I smooth a hand over the wisps of hair that escaped my braid. After my
impromptu nap in the dirt, I probably look like a hot mess.
“Fledgling Lark Axton?”
 Spinning around, I search for the speaker.
A fortysomething woman with auburn hair worn in a neat bun and
amber eyes approaches.
What now? Could Thorne have told his superiors about my less than
stellar first day in his class?
The woman smiles. She actually smiles. That’s two friendly staff
members in one day. Maybe I reached a secret limit on assholes already,
and from this point forward, everyone I meet will be a ray of sunshine. A
girl can hope.
I return her smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m Vice Commander Valaria Torno. Please follow me. Commander
Bigley wants to meet you.”
And just like that, my smile dies. Why does the head of Flighthaven
Academy want to meet me?
Given the string of unfortunate events that have already happened in
less than twenty-four hours, his reason can’t be good.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Nine

I struggle to keep up with Torno’s brisk pace. I’m still not one-hundred-
percent after my fainting spell, and I’m less than eager to meet Commander
Bigley.
As Torno and I weave through numerous hallways, I spot Theo leaning
against the door. Taking a break? He grins and waves.
I nod in greeting as we pass him.
Torno observes the exchange. “Making friends already, Fledgling
Axton?”
“I’ve made several…acquaintances since I got here.”
She studies me while we walk. “Hmm.”
What does that mean?
Her face gives nothing away. Despite her earlier friendliness, she’s now
assumed Taffy Quinnelle-like behavior, which reminds me of talking to a
wall. “How are you adjusting to life at Flighthaven?”
Uncertain how to respond, I decide to stay vague. “I’m…adjusting.
Some classes are…more difficult than others, but I always welcome a
challenge.”
In the following silence, I do my best to memorize the building’s layout.
“Here we are.” She opens the heavy door in front of us. “This is
Commander Bigley’s office.”
It’s spacious and airy, with numerous windows open to the balmy
afternoon breeze, and I make a mental note that the office must be at the
back of the main building.
Several feet ahead, Bigley’s seated at an enormous purpleheart desk
with gold and silver embellishments.
The walls, ceiling, and floor bear the same wood. Framed maps adorn
the area behind the desk, with illustrations of Aclaris, Tirene, and Kamor
taking up a place of prominence.
Bigley stands. Broad-shouldered and muscular, he’s almost as tall as
Instructor Thorne. His silver hair, worn in wild waves around his craggy
face, reminds me of a lion’s mane.
Unlike Torno, he doesn’t smile.
The moment we reach Bigley’s desk, Torno assumes an at-attention
stance, her feet apart, hands clasped behind her back, shoulders pulled back,
chin high, and eyes forward.
I mimic her.
“Fledgling Axton.” Settling into his chair, Bigley taps the desk to
punctuate his words. My gaze drops to his massive hands. I can’t help but
imagine them around an enemy’s throat, squeezing the life from them.
Even sitting, the man is formidable.
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Sir?”
He continues to drum the desk. “I suppose you’re wondering why
you’re here.”
The thought has crossed my mind.
Torno elbows me to answer.
I clear my throat. “I am, sir.”
Bigley’s face reveals nothing.
What’s with these people? Do they enjoy tormenting AWs with their
prolonged silences and stony expressions?
“It’s protocol. Whenever fledglings arrive at Flighthaven under unusual
circumstances and have a late start, as you have, I meet them.” He regards
me, his manner stoic. “How are you settling into the routine here?”
“Thank you for asking, sir.” I offer a hopeful smile, then dance around
the truth. “Everything’s going well. I’ve enjoyed each…challenge so far.”
“It’s good to hear you’re adjusting to life at Flighthaven Academy.” He
lifts a booklet from his desk. “You’ll find our regulations here. Please
commit them to memory.”
After taking the booklet from him, I hold the volume behind me as I
resume my at-attention stance. “I will, sir.”
 “Despite your late start, you’ll be required to take part in the upcoming
trial with the other fledglings.”
“When is the trial?”
“In five weeks.”
“Five weeks?” I croak. He can’t be serious. I get five measly weeks to
master the skills needed to succeed in the academy’s first trial? Highly
unlikely, and that’s with my low-bar definition of success as failure to die in
a spectacularly painful fashion.
Before horror can take complete control of my body, I remember that
the current plan is for me to leave in four weeks. A dizzying wave of relief
follows.
“Yes. Although it’s unfortunate your sister is…missing,” he averts his
gaze, “you’re expected to get up to speed as quickly as possible so the rest
of your unit doesn’t suffer.”
He drops his gaze, an unreadable emotion streaking across his features
before disappearing.
My skin prickles, apprehension welling up within. “Sir, do you
know⁠—”
“You’re dismissed.” Bigley busies himself by straightening his desk, not
sparing me another glance.
Torno ushers me outside the office, only speaking once she shuts the
door behind us. “If anything is ever amiss, don’t hesitate to report it to me
so I can pass your concerns on to the commander. It’s protocol.”
Why? We were mid-conversation when Bigley dismissed me. “Of
course.”
We walk down the corridor in silence. She doesn’t stop until we’re well
out of earshot of Bigley’s office. “Never, and I do mean never, mention
Leesa’s disappearance to Commander Bigley. He’s touchy about the
subject.”
I know I should keep my mouth shut, but curiosity gets the better of me.
“Why?”
Torno swears under her breath. “The…incident… reflects poorly on him
and Flighthaven. If you don’t want to get chewed out, I suggest you keep
any upsetting questions to yourself or pose them to me instead.”
“I will.” Is there a reason Bigley doesn’t want to speak of my sister…
other than guilt? Does he know something? Does Torno? “Do you happen
to⁠—”
 “I know as little as everyone else.”
I sag.
She pauses and taps a fingertip against her lower lip, as if conducting an
internal debate. “I suppose it can’t hurt to tell you that your sister took a
keen interest in the dragons in the week or two before she vanished.”
Any hope that Torno was about to share a meaningful nugget of
information fizzles. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. Leesa’s wanted to be a
dragonrider for as long as I can remember.”
Torno gives a thoughtful nod. “I can see that. But fledglings aren’t given
the opportunity to prove themselves on a dragon unless they rank as one of
the top two students in the first trial. Besides, she was part of a select group
that was given the opportunity to visit the dragons, so there was no reason
for her to be skulking near the dragon aerie at odd hours.”
My teeth grind together. Skulking? What’s that supposed to mean? Did
Torno truly notice Leesa hanging out around the dragon enclosure? Or is
she implying that Leesa was engaged in nefarious activities in an effort to
absolve Flighthaven of blame in her disappearance?
Despite Vice Commander Torno’s relative friendliness, I’m not naïve
enough to trust her with that knowledge. For all I know, someone at
Flighthaven could be responsible for Leesa’s vanishing act.
My only option is to uncover the truth myself.
I grip the booklet tighter, my knuckles blanching as I battle a relentless
rush of negativity that I’m not up to the challenge.
Torno surveys me. “Are you certain you’re doing well here? You can be
honest with me. I’m aware of the hazing that goes on with new recruits.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m still getting my bearings, but I’m doing fine.” Or I
will be. I hope.
She meets my gaze, appraising me with a touch of disbelief. “Keep in
mind, Axton, that you’re not the first to endure what happens here. I’ll
admit things have gotten a little out of hand these past years. If anything
goes too far or you have any concerns, don’t hesitate to come to me.”
Like Helene poisoning my food? Or fledglings slamming me into walls?
Elijah dousing me with hot coffee? As much as I’d love to put a stop to
these incidents, sharing them with Torno would only make my time here
worse. I’ll just have to…handle things on my own.
I widen my eyes with false sincerity. “I appreciate that, Vice
Commander Torno.”
 I just hope the hazing doesn’t turn deadly.

That evening, I dine with Olive and Theo. Nick, Abel, and several other
recruits eat their dinners nearby.
Helene and Elijah sit at the other end of our table, and I find myself
thankful they’re close enough for me to keep an eye on.
Theo spears a piece of ham with his fork. “I see you made it through
your first day at Flighthaven in one piece.”
I take a long drink of water and set the cup down. “I did.”
“No broken bones or missing teeth.” He chews the ham like he’s
starving. “I’d say that’s a record.”
What? “Are you saying it’s normal for people to break bones and get
their teeth knocked out on the first day?”
“No,” he draws out the word as he forks another piece of meat, “but I’m
not saying it’s not normal either.”
“Really?” It’s the training, rather than the hazing, that I’m worried about
now. “Just how common are serious injuries here?”
“Hard to say. Strength training is the most dangerous, though. Just the
other week, two recruits almost died from doing fifty push-ups within a
twenty-four-hour period.” While his delivery is matter-of-fact, I don’t miss
the twinkle in his eyes. “Eating dessert is the second most dangerous
activity.”
I level him with a you’re not as funny as you think you are stare. “No
one dies from push-up training.”
He laughs. “I know, but you should have seen how huge your eyes got
at first. I would pay to see that expression again.”
Olive glares at him, but I can tell she’s fighting back a smile. “Don’t be
an ass, Theo. Lark’s had a rough day.”
Theo holds up his hands in surrender. “All right. I’m sorry. I was just
trying to lighten the mood. Everyone’s so quiet tonight.”
“It’s okay.” I push the food around on my plate. “Thank you for helping
me this morning, by the way. I meant to say that earlier.”
His grin reveals a dimple in each cheek. “No need to thank me.”
Abel lifts his eyebrows. “What happened?”
 I shrug. “Somone with earth magic tripped me on a root. Theo helped
me stand up.”
“I missed that. Guess I was too busy trying not to get whistled to death.”
I snort. “Glad I’m not the only one who hates his whistle. It should be
physically impossible to be that loud.”
“Better get used to it.” Abel leans back in his chair, balancing his weight
on the two back legs. “Where did you go during today’s flight training? I
didn’t see you.”
This is the most Abel has said to me since I got here, and my chest
tightens with the realization that this is the first time I can remember sitting
and talking with people my age. And actually laughing.
Is this what normal feels like?
I’m not ready to admit my fear of alicorns, especially when the people
in my unit are starting to warm up to me. “I got a little dizzy, so Thorne sent
me to the infirmary. He wasn’t too happy.”
“I’ll say.” Nick crosses his arms. “He made us stay late to do extra
drills. Compared to us, you got off easy.”
Olive clucks her tongue. “Thorne’s shitty moods aren’t Lark’s fault.
He’s always griping about something we’ve done.” She taps the table close
to me. “Just try to stay on his good side, and you’ll be fine.”
Stay on his good side? Too late for that. I’m pretty sure I’ve earned a
spot on his bad side just by breathing. Though for a minute, he was
actually…nice. After I blacked out.
Odd. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought.
“And for the love of the gods, please don’t be one of those fledglings
who bats her eyelashes and makes a fool of herself trying to lure him to her
bed. I get secondhand embarrassment every damn time.” Theo winces. “I’ll
never get over the expression of utter boredom on his face the last time
someone tried.”
Even the typically more stoic Nick flinches in agreement. “Yeah, that
was painful to watch. I don’t know how she didn’t find a giant hole to crawl
in after.”
My two run-ins with Thorne are enough to elicit a sympathetic shudder
from me. “Is that even allowed? Instructors hooking up with students?”
Theo points his fork at the booklet near my plate. “No, and you’ll know
that once you finish reading the rule book.”
 “Don’t worry. I have no plans to hit on Thorne anytime soon. Or ever.
He despises me already, and I’m sure there’s plenty of abuse in store for me
here as it is without striking up a relationship with that grumpy asshole.” I
flip through the rule book. “Bigley just gave me this in his office. I guess
I’d better get a jump on learning the policies.”
Everyone’s eyebrows raise. Theo props his elbows on the table. “Bigley
personally delivered our rule book to you?”
“No. Torno took me to his office. I was scared I was in trouble, but he
said it’s protocol to meet any new fledgling who’s here under unusual
circumstances.”
Olive nods. “Makes sense.”
There’s scattered conversation as we finish our meals, and then Olive
and I head to our room. When we enter, we find Helene inside folding her
uniform. I’m not even a little upset by her annoyed, muttered reply to
Olive’s chirped greeting or by her turning her back on us, because I’m done.
After a day full of people, I’m more than ready to curl up alone on my bed
and pass out.
Olive chatters away about classes and funny anecdotes and how
everything will work out fine. Her upbeat monologue shifts into a hazy
drone as sleep claims me.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Ten

Breakfast the next morning passes without incident. After we finish eating,
it’s time for my first combat skills training class, held well away from the
other buildings in a clearing surrounded by tall trees.
At least two dozen fledglings gather there.
Our teacher, Instructor Celeste Dawson, is a far cry from what I
pictured. The weapons instruction in my head was a brawny man with
bulging biceps and battle scars crisscrossing his face and body.
Instructor Dawson is a beautiful woman. Tall, willowy, and blond, with
nary a scar in sight.
“Today, we’ll be using the targets on the trees to work on precision. If
you start hitting the center every time, then move back ten paces. Once
everyone can hit static targets with consistency, we can progress to moving
targets.” She faces the group. “Let’s see how you’ve progressed with
throwing stars. Anyone want to volunteer to demonstrate technique?”
Helene steps forward. “I will.”
Dawson flips a throwing star in her hands. “Have you been practicing?”
“I have, Instructor Dawson.”
“Well, I guess we’re about to find out if you’ve practiced enough. See
that tree with an X carved in it?” She gestures to the tree about ten yards
away. “Aim for that.”
With a malicious gleam in her onyx eyes, Helene winks at me before
spinning around to face her target. She rotates her arm several times to
loosen up the limb. Once she’s ready, she releases the throwing star,
concentration giving her a severe case of resting bitch face.
The device sails through the air, hitting the mark dead-on.
Elijah offers her a congratulatory fist bump. “Fucking awesome.”
Dawson graces Helene with a pleased grin. “Well done, Mortimer.”
“Thank you, Instructor.” After the praise, Helene casts a sly glance my
way. “Since Lark is new, I bet she’d like a chance to show off her skills.”
What? No, I really wouldn’t. I shake my head. “No, thank you. I think
I’m⁠—”
Dawson interrupts with an excited clap of her hands. “That’s an
excellent idea. Fledgling Axton, step up and show us what you’ve got.”
What I’ve got is a burning desire to rewind time and sew Helene’s big
mouth shut. Barring that, I guess I get to partake in this wonderful
opportunity to demonstrate to everyone yet again why I’m the worst
fledgling ever.
I say nothing when Helene drops the unfamiliar and oddly shaped
throwing star into my outstretched palm. Fumbling for the correct grip, I
rack my brain to recall how Helene held the device. I’ve thrown a dagger
before. Surely the concept is similar enough.
Aware that all eyes are on me, I raise my arm and flick my wrist. The
star whizzes through the air. Wide of the mark. Wide of the tree altogether.
Helene smirks. “I could tutor you.”
Dawson beams. “That’s a great idea. Way to be a team player,
Mortimer.”
I fight a grimace. No part of me believes Helene made the offer out of
the goodness of her heart. Whenever I think of that custard, I still shudder.
“Thanks. I think I might watch everyone else first…to see if I can get the
hang of it.”
As soon as Helene walks toward Elijah, I hurry over to join Olive, Nick,
and Abel on the far side of the training area. Maybe if I make myself scarce,
she’ll forget about me.
Olive pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry. Throwing stars are weird at first,
but you’ll pick it up in no time.”
Abel hip bumps her. “Especially if you don’t let this one train you.”
She whirls on him, huffing out an outraged gasp. “What? I’ll have you
know that I beat you the last two time…you little sneak!”
 Abel darts away, whistling while he tosses the throwing star he snatched
from Olive into the air. “Finders keepers. Guess that means I’m going first.”
Nick doesn’t say much, but his skeptical glance lingers. My nerves kick
in. What if he agrees with all the other Helenes and Elijahs of the academy
and believes catching me up on the five weeks I missed is more trouble than
I’m worth?
Throwing my shoulders back, I concentrate on Abel’s grip as he
prepares to throw. I guess I’ll just have to prove Nick—and the other
doubters—wrong.
After a few attempts with the throwing stars, I start to feel more
comfortable. Abel and Olive bicker over the best way to hold the weapon,
so I give both a try. By my third go, I’m at least hitting the tree. I still have
my work cut out for me, of course, but progress is progress.
Nick is up again when Dawson claps her hands and orders us to switch
to bows and arrows. While we do, she speaks to another instructor.
Nerves flutter in my stomach like a thousand tiny butterflies. When
Leesa and I were younger, we begged my mother for bows and arrows.
Much to my surprise, she caved and bought us each a set. One of the guards
gave us impromptu lessons, and after hours and hours of practice on the
castle grounds, I mastered the skill.
Finally feeling in my element, I notch an arrow, pull the bow back, and
release it. The arrow zings through the air and hits true, sticking to the X on
the tree before me.
Theo offers a low whistle and Olive grins. Several others yell
encouraging comments.
“Damn, Axton. Not bad.”
“Wow, the newbie’s got actual skills.”
Palpable relief sweeps through me.
“Everyone, listen up.” As the other instructor leaves, Dawson’s almost
unseeing gaze zips from fledgling to fledgling. “I’ll be back in a few
minutes. Practice while I’m gone.” She swings her finger from one student
to the other, her face serious. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
A lanky man with a shaved head and piercing gray eyes approaches me
and extends his hand. “Mark Levine.”
I shake his hand, annoyed my first reaction to someone other than my
unit and Theo being nice to me is suspicion. A few bad experiences
shouldn’t transform me into a pessimist. “Lark. Nice to meet you.”
 He plucks an arrow from the barrel. “Okay, I’m just going to get right to
the point. You’re obviously a badass with a bow, and I haven’t gotten the
hang of it yet. Care to give me a few pointers?”
His hopeful, genuine smile quiets my nerves. “Oh, um, thank you. Sure,
I can do that.”
His smile widens. “Really? You don’t mind?”
“Of course not.” He might not know it, but he’s actually helping me.
Some of the animosity toward my presence at Flighthaven is due to the
other fledglings’ belief that I bring nothing to the table. That I’ll drag them
down. Aiding Mark with his bow will show that I’m a team player and not
completely worthless.
“You’re my hero. Thank you.” He responds with an almost comical
wink. “Look, I feel like an idiot admitting this, but I don’t want to practice
where everyone can see how terrible I am. Let’s make sure we’re far
enough away from the others.”
Sympathy tugs at my chest. Having just experienced my own public
humiliation over my lack of throwing star skills, I can’t help but relate.
“You may not have noticed, but this is literally the one thing I’m good at.
So don’t worry. I won’t judge.”
Mark drags a hand across his forehead, miming relief, and leads me
across the training area to the far back corner. Along with the distance, the
trees scattered throughout the area provide us with a little cover from the
other students.
I go through the steps, guiding him on how to aim and where to place
his elbow while encouraging him to relax. “When you’re ready, take the⁠—”
Hands grab me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. I gag on the
musty cloth stuffed into my mouth.
Struggling and kicking, I whip my head to the side and spot Mark
standing by like nothing is happening.
He notices my confusion and sneers. “Stupid bitch.” Stepping closer, he
gives me a rough pat on the cheek. “Did you really think I needed your
help?”
Rage fills me, along with a thick dose of regret for not seeing through
his act.
“Aw, the newbie did a good deed. I’m touched.” Helene’s cold voice
mocks me. I lash out and try to charge her as she comes into view, but a
wall of wind shoves me back. “Hold her tight, Elijah. She’s a little feisty.”
 I glare and attempt to speak around the cloth.
They ignore me.
After dragging me to a tree, they shove me against the rough trunk.
Mark focuses on the ground, where the tree’s roots begin to writhe. They
emerge from the grass like thick brown snakes and wrap around me,
starting at my ankles and twining around my body until I’m bound up to my
neck.
Earth magic. The bastard’s using earth magic in clear violation of the
rule book, but with Dawson gone and me without a way of alerting my
flight unit, he’ll probably get away with it.
Flaring my nostrils and sucking in a deep breath through my nose, I try
calling upon my own magic. Though I find the well where it resides, the
suppressant I take each morning blocks my access. Almost like my power’s
covered in a heavy shroud and then locked up tight.
Godsdammit.
“Let’s see how brave you are.” Elijah produces an apple out of nowhere
and settles it on top of my head. “I suggest you stay still for this next part.
Ready, Mortimer?”
“Just about.”
Helene stands back a good fifty paces. She wields a bow in one hand
and an arrow in the other. I struggle anew, thrashing against the roots
holding me in place. When Mark tsks, the bindings tighten to the point that
I’m worried I’ll crack a rib. Muffled, unintelligible noises emerge around
the cloth in my mouth.
“What’s the matter, Axton?” Elijah puts his hand over his heart. “Are
you scared?”
He backs away before nodding at Helene.
She nocks an arrow in her bowstring. “Better not move. I’d hate for
things to get messy.”
Dread nooses my neck. Helene isn’t aiming at the apple. No, her arrow
points straight at my heart.
All trussed up like a solstice turkey, there’s literally nothing I can do to
escape this. And the worst part is, I walked right into their trap.
Helene steps closer, her grin widening. “Let’s hope I’m as good with a
bow as I am with a throwing star.” Pressure grows behind my eyes, and
despite my furious attempts to prevent it, a tear trickles down my cheek.
Helene hisses and points. “See? That’s exactly why we don’t want you here.
You’re too soft. You should go to Bigley and ask to transfer to Forthaven
instead. If you agree to do it now, we’ll let you go. Blink once for yes, twice
for no.”
The mortifying truth is that a part of me wants to acquiesce. To transfer
to Forthaven, where the foot soldiers train and supposedly grow as close as
siblings, or better yet, beg an exemption from the king and return home.
I won’t, though. I may be soft, but I still possess some pride. And I
refuse to let the assholes win.
An impatient Helene huffs. “What’s it going to be, Axton? We don’t
have all day.”
Lifting my chin, I blink twice.
Take that, you dragon fuckers.
Her mouth flattens. “Fine. Have it your way.”
She pulls back her arm and releases the arrow with a whoosh. My eyes
squeeze shut. I brace for impact, but the only thing I feel is a tiny jerk above
my head. I open my eyes again and double-check my torso, just to be sure.
No blood. No arrow.
Elijah growls. “You missed.”
Helene regards him like he’s an idiot. “Are you blind? I hit the apple
right in the middle.”
“Screw the apple. You didn’t hit her. You could have at least drawn
some blood.”
I do my best to glare a hole through Elijah’s awful head, because what
the fucking fuck?
Mark saunters up and plucks the arrow from the tree, the apple still
attached. After taking a bite, he slides the apple off the end and places it
back on my head. “There’s always time for blood in round two.”
By the heavens. If Leesa did run away from Flighthaven, I’m starting to
understand why. Who could blame her? These people are flat-out nuts.
Nearby rustling draws Mark’s attention to one of the biggest trees. His
face pales. “Shit.”
“Mortimer. Levine.” Vice Commander Torno pops out from beneath the
leafy canopy and strides toward us at a brisk pace. “What’s happening here?
Is this an approved training exercise?”
Helene’s pale face deepens to a crimson shade. She lowers her bow.
“I…we were just messing around.”
Mark jumps in. “Yeah. Lark dared us to do this.”
 I jerk my head, sending the apple toppling to the ground.
“Fledgling Axton isn’t your instructor.” Torno spears Helene with icy
eyes before turning her attention to Mark and Elijah. “Untie her. Now.”
Mark spins to face me. A moment later, the roots binding me loosen and
dive back into the earth. I yank the disgusting cloth from my mouth just as
Elijah walks up and whispers in my ear. “You’re safe this time, Axton. But
you’d better watch your back.”
He saunters off with the others. Torno watches me, her brow furrowed.
“Everything okay?”
I fake a smile, praying that she can’t read the lie on my face. “Yup.
Everything’s great. Just messing around. Sorry. Won’t happen again.”
Torno studies me before nodding. “Okay. Remember, though, if you’re
experiencing any difficulties with the other fledglings that compromise your
safety, you should report to me right away.”
I murmur another “yup” and take my leave, scurrying across the field to
escape Torno’s scrutiny. Her support should make me feel better, but that
concerned expression reminds me too much of my mother’s. It tells me that
on some level, she agrees with the other fledglings and believes I’m too soft
for this place. Too weak. Just because there’s a good chance she’s right
doesn’t mean I want to read my failure in her eyes.
For the remainder of class, I stick close to Olive, and then I walk with
her to History. I’m relieved when she plops into a seat on the other side of
the auditorium from where Elijah, Helene, and Mark sit. Our instructor
launches into lecture on the reign of Queen Aero, who ruled Tirene almost a
millennia ago and kicked off the war between our kingdoms that started us
down this long-standing pathway of animosity. Despite my own fascination
with the subject, I struggle to focus on anything beyond the arrowhead
aimed at my heart earlier. I can’t believe I’m thinking this, but if not for
Helene, I might be dead. She partook in the hazing with a clear goal to scare
me, not hurt me. Mark and Elijah? If someone told me they murdered
people and drank their victims’ blood for fun, I wouldn’t bat an eye.
When lunch arrives, I grab my tray and dig into my food without
speaking.
Olive bumps my shoulder. “You’re quiet all of a sudden.”
When I wince in reply, she squeezes my bicep. “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay. But every inch of my body feels like I’ve been beaten with a
sack of rocks.”
 Abel pats my hand. “It could be worse. You could feel like you’ve been
beaten with a sack of rocks, gored by an angry alicorn, and tossed off the
side of Mount Klemson. Though that’s probably coming up.”
The force with which I stab a piece of chicken makes my plate jump.
“Gee, thanks for giving me something to look forward to.”
He winks. “Anytime.”
After that exchange, I don’t contribute much to the conversation. I need
to preserve my remaining strength and sanity for our upcoming class. One
I’ve been dreading.
Magic.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Eleven

Nick and Abel join Olive and me as we leave the mess hall and walk one of
the paths that cuts across the interior fields. A layer of puffy white clouds
blots out the sun, suffocating the warmth and darkening the sky. If the
sudden change in weather is a sign from Zeru, magic training is going to go
about as good as I expect. The best case scenario is that the magic
suppressant does its job and I have another weak showing in front of my
peers. If the remedy fails, I might produce enough fire to wow an
audience…and also burn that same audience to a crisp, which is one hell of
a downside.
A chill snakes into my lungs. I wrap my arms around my waist, fighting
off the flame-fueled memories licking at the edges of my mind. Up until
now, the alchemist’s medicine has worked. There’s no reason to think that
will stop. I need to remain calm, though. Out-of-control emotions can
trigger unpredictable effects on magic, and I’d rather not put the
suppressant to the test.
I follow my flight unit past the dragon aerie and the building behind it
to a huge structure that backs up to a rocky cliff, the location undoubtedly
chosen so fledglings could practice elemental magic without fear of
destroying a building via an accidental gale of wind or rogue fireball. The
gray stone walls, taller than any of the two-story structures, tower above us
and curve to form shapes reminiscent of flower petals. This close to the
ocean, the roar of waves is louder, their rhythmic crash and ebb amplified
through the valleys and trails that dip between cliffs and offer glimpses of
blue water and black sand.
Farther down, the eyril field nestles near a low valley, the waving,
tentacle-like stalks whispering in the salty breeze. When I cock my head a
certain way, I can almost hear words.
“Hey, Lark, you coming?”
I blink, surprised to find Olive and the others already at the arena
entrance. Too much stress and not enough sleep.
I jog to catch up, and my eyes widen as we enter.
From this vantage point, the arena resembles a flower even more. From
a circular, central arena, four huge oval-shaped areas branch out in each
direction. Olive leads me to the closest petal, which plunges us into a lush
world of green. Grass blankets the ground, tickling my ankles, and the air
brims with fragrant perfume, courtesy of an explosion of flowers. Bees
buzz, and butterflies zip from one colorful bloom to the next. A grove of
umberheart trees explode with vibrant green and form leafy canopies.
I drag my fingers along the silky petal of a yellow and orange
dragonflight flower, named for its resemblance to a dragon’s outstretched
wings. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say this is where the earth
elementals practice.”
Olive snickers. “Aren’t you a clever one.”
We hit the water elemental practice area next. Little pools of water
bubble up from the earth. A small waterfall cascades down the rocky cliff
into one of the pools, and a narrow stream gurgles the overflow away,
curving until the water disappears back beneath the boulders.
A gap in the cliff for the next arena allows wind to tunnel in off the
ocean and sweep through the cut-outs high on the opposite wall. Flags and
pinwheels decorated in Aclaris colors flutter and spin.
Olive slows her pace. “This is my stop. You’re the next one. Instructor
Resnick has us stick with our elemental group for warm-ups to build up our
magic, and then we usually get together for training exercises with the
entire class. Good luck.”
My stomach tumbles and dives as I confront the open doorway leading
to the fire arena. “Thanks. Guessing I’ll need it.”
Pressing a hand to my turbulent belly, I offer up a silent prayer to Vaya,
Goddess of Fire, before squaring my shoulders and marching to the final
practice space to join the other magic wielders. Though calling myself a
magic wielder is something of a stretch considering the one time I wielded
more than a negligible amount of fire was both accidental and an
unmitigated disaster.
Several other fledglings already populate the large space, which boasts
heavy bronze sconces spaced out along the walls, each topped by a
flickering flame. Oversized bulls-eye targets hang above eye level from the
wall. Unlike the other arenas, a thin sheet of sand makes up the
groundcover here. Save for the black splotches sprinkled in spots, child-
sized, blue-gray urns that sprout flames provide the only relief from the
monotony. The realization that those scorch marks likely signal fire gone
awry does nothing to tame my fluttering nerves.
Neither does spotting Elijah sauntering into the training area. Theo
strolling in behind him is a more welcome sight.
“Okay, everyone, let’s get started on drills. And please, for the love of
the gods, remember to put on a robe first so we can avoid another
unfortunate incident like last week. Right, Fledgling Zeen?”
Laughter follows as I turn toward a brown-skinned man with twinkling
eyes. He’s shorter than me, slight of build, and exudes a quiet confidence
and humor that immediately puts me at ease.
The subject of his gentle rebuke, a gangly male student with carrot-
colored hair and too many freckles to count splattered across his pale
cheeks, winces and rubs an angry pink pucker across his neck. “Right,
Instructor Resnick.”
Theo grins and slaps another fledgling on the shoulder. “I’ve got you
covered, Soron.”
He hustles over to a cabinet in the corner that I missed on my initial
inspection, withdraws a swathe of dark, shiny fabric, and tosses it to Soron.
Huh. Now that I’m looking, I notice the other fledglings wearing or
donning long-sleeved garments that skim their bodies and fall all the way to
their boots. Fire-resistant, certainly. A very sensible safety precaution that
never occurred to me before.
Not wanting to get caught without an outer layer that could prevent me
from getting cooked like a hunk of fleetjac on a spit, I head for the cabinet.
Theo winks as he passes. “Glad you’re breaking up our sausage party,
Axton. This is my chance to see how hot I can get you.”
I groan. “If terrible puns like that are what I can look forward to, I may
defect to join the earth elementals.”
 He gasps and clutches his chest. “You wound me.”
His antics bring a smile to my face. Cringey jokes or not, I’m happy
he’s here to help balance out the haters, because the stocky guy with the
shaved head scowling at me from Elijah’s side doesn’t seem to be my
biggest fan.
I get Theo’s comment about a boys’ club now. Apart from me, all the
fire wielders appear to be men.
The robe I grab is heavier than I expect. Prettier too. The garment
glimmers and sparkles against the sun’s touch.
Resnick approaches. “The material’s treated with melted dragon fat to
help fireproof it.”
He just had to go and ruin the moment.
I try my best not to form a visual. “That’s…kind of gross.”
His mouth tips into a faint smile. “Perhaps, but necessary. Sometimes
things can get a little wild during training.” Cocking his head, he taps a
finger against his chin. “To clarify, you’re Fledgling Lark Axton, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good, good. I assumed as much, but once I took a good gander at you,
I thought it best to confirm. You and your sister don’t resemble each other
much.” His shoulders droop. “I’m sorry about Leesa. She’s one of my
favorite pupils. You and your family must be out of their minds with
worry… I hope you get good news soon.”
Emotion clogs my throat. He’s the first instructor to express genuine
sorrow over Leesa’s disappearance. “Thank you, sir. I hope so too.”
When moisture fills my eyes, I bite my cheek to stop the tears from
falling. As I regain my composure, Resnick kindly turns away and
rummages through the cabinet to produce a robe for himself. “Go ahead and
get suited up.”
I slip into the garment, surprised by the lightness of the fabric.
Resnick waves us forward. “Follow me.” He leads me to a human-
shaped burlap sack that hangs from a hook. Fabric wings dangling from the
figure’s back leave no illusions about the identity of the intended target.
“Okay, then. Let’s see what you can do.”
More than one pair of eyes watch as I dive deep inside myself to seek
the place where my power dwells. As expected, the magic suppressant
smothers my fire, forcing me to dig and scrape for the faintest hint of a
spark. It feels like my magic is trapped at the bottom of a dark sea with no
way to rise to the surface.
Whispers kick up. Snickers about my weakness. I want to ignore the
insults, but it’s hard when they feed into the same narrative my mother’s
given me for as long as I can remember.
Gritting my teeth, I dive into the well where my power exists, tunneling
and grasping until, at long last, I sense the tiniest spark. My blood warms.
My fingertips crackle. A small, nearly translucent flame flares, only to
vanish in the next heartbeat.
I breathe hard while Resnick frowns. “That’s a start, but you’re not
there yet. You’ll need to generate more power to create a fireball.”
I’d accuse him of sarcasm if he didn’t appear so serious. “A fireball.
Sure. I’ll get right on that.” My heavy breathing has officially turned into
panting and sweat streams down my body in multiple places.
“Are you sure that’s the best you can do?”
Resnick graces me with a hopeful expression, like maybe I’m faking my
poor performance. Guilt pinches me, because in a roundabout way, I
suppose I am. I wish I didn’t need to. It’s not as if I get off on his
disappointment or the scorn of my peers.
“Weakling.” Elijah scoffs, elbowing me out of the way. “I’ll show you
how a real Aclaris patriot takes down the fucking Tirenese.”
Assuming the stance of a conquering king, Elijah creates a fireball the
size of a cantaloupe in his hand. He hurls the elemental weapon at the
burlap Tirenese warrior, striking him in the chest.
“Good job, Durand. Power and precision.” Resnick applauds and slants
me a sympathetic look. “The first few times can be a little tricky. Try
drawing from the existing fire until you get the hang of it.”
I slink over to an empty spot by a big urn, as far from the others as
possible. Resnick and the other fledglings are probably wondering how I
managed to pass the king’s minimal magic requirement. I’d love to hear the
answer myself. It doesn’t seem possible that the tiny bit of fire the tester
witnessed met the typical standard for entry to Flighthaven, so why approve
me? Does Aclaris have a shortage of fire wielders?
“Look, she can’t even summon fire directly from a source. Her sister
was a sharp-tongued whore, but at least she wasn’t useless.”
Anger ignites in my belly. I raise my head to target Elijah with a glare,
almost wishing I had access to my magic so I could incinerate him on the
spot. “Don’t badmouth Leesa.”
Elijah elbows his bald buddy. “What do you say, Milton? Should we
stop badmouthing Leesa?”
Milton lifts his hands and leers. “What are you gonna do about it if we
don’t?”
One at a time, sparks form between his palms, his face a mask of
concentration as he grunts. Slowly, he spins the sparks into a red flickering
ball. Smaller than Elijah’s, and the production cost him more effort. Still
better than I can do, and they both know it.
I edge backward and scour the arena for our instructor.
Elijah laughs. “If you’re looking for Resnick, don’t bother. He likes to
wander off to watch the other elementals.” With ease, he summons a
fireball. “Torno isn’t here to save you either.”
An alarm bleats inside my head. “What are you doing?”
“We practiced on stationary targets. Now we’re ready for moving ones.”
Milton steps closer, rotating his shoulder back like he’s preparing to throw a
dagger. “Go on, weakling. Move!”
My muscles coil. I don’t wait for him to launch the fireball. I fling
myself to the side, tucking into a somersault as heat blazes past overhead.
Panting, I rise to a crouch. Thank the gods that Kelvin, an old guard we
had for several years before he left to get married, humored a lonely
teenager and taught her a few evasive techniques. And that I was bored
enough to practice those moves in my room.
My pulse speeds, and deep within me, my fire reawakens from its
slumber. Yawns. Opens one drowsy eye. Rumbles and tugs on the restraints
locking it down.
Flames. People screaming. Horses shrieking in pain.
Grinding my teeth, I work to tame my rising emotions. To smother the
swirling vortex of anger and fear urging my power to come out and play.
My head spins, and I stumble a little as the dizziness takes hold. I hate that
my body is proving them right.
Ziva’s flames, this sucks. I want nothing more than to collapse on my
bed and rest. “Why are you doing this? Aren’t we all supposed to be on the
same side?”
“We’re on the same side,” Milton gestures between him and Elijah, “but
you’re probably a Tirenese lover like your traitor of a sister. She could have
had a real man. Elijah tried, but she sneered at him like he was beneath her.
Probably horny for a pair of wing⁠—”
Face blotching, Elijah punches Milton in the shoulder and hisses. “Shut
up!”
As the pieces start to click, the materializing picture confounds me.
“Are you saying…is that the reason you have it in for me? Because you’re
embarrassed my sister turned you down for a date?”
His face reddens even more. “Not a date. I was bored and looking for a
fuck, that’s all! It’s not like I liked her or anything.”
A couple of heartbeats pass, and then I burst into laughter. I can’t help
myself. The absurdity of the situation kills me. Is this what I missed out on,
all those years I longed to be around people my age and one day meet
someone to date and marry? Men who throw hissy fits and lash out because
a woman told them no? Even toddlers can learn that concept. If Elijah and
Milton represent the prospects out there, then I’d rather remain unattached
and unmarried for the rest of my days. Better lonely than trapped with a
man who can’t handle rejection.
A fireball races toward me. I lunge out of the path, but not fast enough.
The flame punches me in the shoulder, blasting the left side of my face and
neck with heat. The cloak saves my skin from burning, but the impact hurt,
and an acrid odor wrinkles my nose. With a gasp, I reach for my hair. A few
tendrils that escaped my braid come free in my hand, blackened and
charred.
Fury crashes through me, tearing at the shroud that locks my magic in
place. My fire pushes, straining for freedom from the other side. Digging
my nails into my palms, I battle to remain in control, but the elemental
magic slips through tiny cracks and races through my blood. My hands
warm.
Distraction. I need a distraction. “You called Leesa a Tirenese lover.
Why? Did you see her with someone? Or did you just make it up to soothe
your fragile ego? And none of this should matter, anyway. We’re all here for
Aclaris. We should put aside our differences and work together.”
Wrong thing to say, going off Elijah’s snarl. “I’ll never work with you,
weakling.”
Another fiery ball hurtles at my face, and fear chokes me. I move, but I
know I won’t be quick enough.
 Closing my eyes against the glare and bracing for pain, I fling myself to
the side. Time passes. Nothing happens.
I open my eyes to find the ball hovering less than an arm’s length from
my nose. Only now it’s a crystalline mix of blue and white. Ice. Someone
transformed the ball into ice.
Whirling, my eyes meet a pair of gold-flecked ones. A scowl mars his
sculpted features, and the temperature around us plummets. Someone yelps.
I turn to find Elijah and Milton shaking out hands that appear crusted with a
layer of tiny diamonds.
Milton swipes at the sparkles with no success. “Stop! It’s so cold, it’s
burning my skin.”
Instructor Thorne coated their hands with ice.
Unperturbed by Milton’s reaction, Thorne tilts his head. His lazy smile
brims with malice, revealing sharp teeth behind a thin veneer. “What, isn’t
burning each other the point of this exercise?”
“No, we’re still doing warm-ups! Not mock battles!”
“Then why were you lobbing fireballs at Fledgling Axton when I
walked up?”
Neither Milton nor Elijah fall for Thorne’s silky-toned ruse. They both
take a nervous step back.
With sweat dripping down his temples and lips white with pain, Milton
breaks first. “We were just goofing around. It was nothing.”
Thorne’s raised eyebrow implies he knows they’re full of shit. Not an
ounce of compassion or concern infiltrates his expression. Not even when
their fingertips purple.
I wonder why they don’t use their fire magic to counteract Thorne’s ice.
Then I notice Elijah’s biceps straining and his fingers curling and realize
they can’t. Thorne’s power must completely override their magic.
My skin pebbles at the thought. I shift my feet. “I think they got the
message. We’re good here. You can stop whatever you’re doing.”
No reaction. Elijah moans. “My hands. I need my hands!” Beneath the
ice crystals, the purple from his fingertips creeps up past his second
knuckle.
I shove myself in front of Thorne so he can’t pretend not to hear me.
“Can you please stop? Please. They’re going to lose their fingers
otherwise.”
Thorne’s gaze flickers to me. “Do you care?”
 What kind of question is that? “Of course! Yes,” I hiss.
With a bored sigh, he twitches his hands. The ice vanishes. “If you want
to keep your fingers, I suggest rubbing them until they’re pink again.”
When my hazers start to do just that, he barks. “Somewhere else.”
Elijah and Milton take off. I’m not proud of the satisfaction that rises
over the visual of them scurrying off like frightened rabbits, but I don’t beat
myself up for the pleasure either.
Smiling, I face my unexpected savior, feeling a little bad about
misjudging him. He can’t be all that terrible if he rescued me from those
creeps. “Thank you for stepping in. I⁠—”
His nostrils flare, and he grips my upper arms. “What are you trying to
prove?”
My smile falters. “What do you mean? I was trying to warm up like
Resnick said, and then those two came and⁠—”
His grip tightens. “Not that. Why are you holding back your magic and
wasting time trying to make them like you?”
I gawk. He couldn’t possibly know about my magic, could he? To be on
the safe side, I skirt the first question and focus on the second. “I wasn’t
trying to make them like me. I was just…”
His eyes narrow. “Just what?”
Swallowing hard, I search for an answer, but it’s difficult to think
clearly with Thorne standing this close to me. Especially when he’s
clutching me with those big hands, intoxicating me with his scent of leather,
soap, and the faintest hint of spice. Even angry, he’s beautiful, and my body
can’t decide if I’m scared, mad, turned on…or a weird combo of all three.
That last thought makes me want to kick myself. This is what happens
when young adults spend too much time in isolation. When they finally
spring their cages, all that built-up hunger for interaction with people their
age makes even the assholes look desirable. “I was just appealing to their
common sense, since we’re on the same side. And besides, so what if I want
them to like me. What’s so wrong about that?”
He growls in response. I huff. “Now who needs to use their words?”
“Not everyone is worth your time.” His pointed look indicates he’s
including me in this category. “And if you don’t want people attacking you,
quit proving them right and do something to stop them.”
Of all the… “Thanks for pointing out the obvious. Don’t you think I’m
trying?”
 “No.”
Seething, I curl my hands into fists. “I take back what I said about you
earlier. I didn’t misjudge you at all. You’re every bit as terrible as I
believed. Worse, even.”
“You never said anything about misjudging me.”
I pause. He might be right. “Well, I did in my head. But the point is, I
was wrong. You really are a miserable fu…jerk.”
His silence cools my anger, which gives way to regret. Now I’ve gone
and done it. I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t assign me much worse punishments
than cleaning out the stable. Guilt surfaces too. Jerk or not, he did run Elijah
and Milton off. Then he went and ruined his good deed by opening his
mouth.
I brace for a tongue lashing. Instead, he nods. “Better.”
I stare like he sprouted a second head. “Better? I just insulted you.”
“Yes. And if you’re insulting someone, you’re not debasing yourself
trying to gain approval.”
Every time he opens his mouth, it gets worse. If I could get away with
it, I’d knee him in the family jewels. “Debasing?” My voice rises by several
octaves.
A commotion from the central arena spares me from another infuriating
comment. In the midst of people shouting, someone yells for an instructor.
With a reluctant glance in that direction, Thorne releases me. I tag along
behind him as he stalks toward the disturbance. The screaming grows
louder, and a fledgling bursts into view. He races across the sand, sobbing.
One hand rips at his hair, while the other claws at his face. Too many angry
red scratches to count crisscross his skin, oozing blood.
A group of fledglings chases after him. “Someone grab his hands so he
quits hurting himself,” one says.
Helene shakes her head. “If you’re so eager, be my guest. The last
person who tried in a situation like this ended up in the infirmary from bite
wounds.”
Situation like what, I wonder. Has this happened before?
The fledgling takes a sharp turn and charges toward Thorne and me.
“Please, someone make them shut up. They’re loud and terrible and I can’t
hear myself think. I can feel it inside me, laughing and rotting. Get it out!
Out!” He yanks at his hair again and pulls out a chunk.
“What’s happening?”
 Without answering, Thorne grunts and approaches the fledgling. The
student drops to the ground, writhing in the sand while alternating between
laughter and sobs. “Get it out. Get it out!” He rakes his nails down his arms,
drawing more blood.
Resnick races to the scene. Somehow, he and Thorne manage to calm
our classmate enough to pick him up.
Once Resnick has a secure grip on the fledgling’s feet, he hollers at the
rest of us. “Unless you want to practice on your own, class is dismissed for
today.”
The fledgling whimpers as the instructors carry him from the arena.
Heart hammering, I find Olive in the crowd. “What in the hells was
that?”
Olive’s lips dip at the corners. “That’s what happens when you overdose
on eyril.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twelve

By breakfast, most of the buzz surrounding yesterday’s incident has died

down. The fledgling, Tobias Fleece, is in the infirmary until his family
fetches him. Then he’ll be taken to a healer who can hopefully fix him,
though the prognosis for eyril overdose or poisoning doesn’t sound good.
According to gossip, Fligthhaven loses at least one fledgling per class to the
epidemic. Leesa’s class already had one, so this makes two. No one ever
hears from them again. No one even knows how they get the additional
eyril needed to cause that type of reaction in the first place. Despite these
horrific revelations, my attention centers on a different topic.
Elijah.
Yesterday, he all but admitted he asked Leesa out and she turned him
down. Based on the anger he displayed, it doesn’t seem farfetched to
believe Leesa’s rejection spurred him to either hurt or, gods forbid, kill her.
It’s the closest I have to a working theory so far, but tracking down proof
seems impossible.
After breakfast, I survive Kinneck’s drills and sprints, vomiting only
once and evading most of my classmates’ attempts at revenge for being the
cause of additional repetitions.
In Flight Geography, we discuss how to navigate in challenging weather
conditions and assess the safest locations to land. The instructor mentions
that certain places with old magic can be hidden from detection altogether,
making me wish I could borrow that ability when Elijah glares at me from
across the room.
I spend most of lunch fretting about how to get through flight training
without revealing my fear of alicorns. Pleading dizziness worked once, but
something tells me Thorne won’t let that same excuse fly a second time.
And unless my fear went poof overnight, there’s no possibility of me
climbing onto one of those winged beasts’ backs and letting the creature
launch me into the sky.
The more I dwell, the more panic sets in. What am I going to do? I’m a
fool for coming to a flight academy without a solid plan for managing my
fear of flying, but too late for second guessing. I need more time.
I scan the mess hall, searching wildly for inspiration while Olive and
Abel joke about a mishap in magic training their first week where a student
accidentally hit the instructor with a stream of water that propelled him into
the pond. Nick mentions an incident with a student involving a hangover so
terrible that the student tripped themselves with their own wind magic,
injured their ankle, and had to sit out of classes for the day. My attention
sweeps past Elijah and Helene. Pauses. Returns.
Clenching a cup of lukewarm tea in my hand, I push back my chair and
stand. My pulse throbs in my throat. This is such a bad idea. Terrible. The
worst. Am I really going through with it?
I picture Zephyr, with his huge black horn and enormous wings. I see
Thorne tossing me into the saddle and slapping the alicorn on the haunch,
sending us hurtling to the heavens. My stomach plunges, and my hands
shake.
Ignoring Olive’s questioning glance, I head straight for Elijah.

When I show up to Flight training a little late, I find the other students
already in the process of leading their saddled mounts from the stable. With
his arms folded across his chest, Thorne supervises, his back facing me.
“Excuse me, Instructor Thorne. Sorry I’m late. I had a little accident.”
“Axton.” He stiffens before slowly twisting around. “I don’t care if
you⁠—”
 His eyes widen when they land on my face. Courtesy of my own
inspection in the bathing chamber’s mirror a few minutes ago, I know I’m
not a pretty sight. The skin beneath my left eye is already turning a
spectacular shade of purple. Blood drips from my nose and onto my top lip,
which has puffed to twice the normal size. For dramatic purposes, I may or
may not have intentionally smeared blood onto my left cheek.
I fidget as the moments pass by in silence. Why isn’t he saying
anything? The weight of his scrutiny spikes my nerves.
Voices approach, intruding on our little tableau. I latch onto the hushed
conversation with a flare of relief.
“…I heard she just walked right up to him, poured her glass of tea over
his head, and said she was scared to retaliate for the coffee until she heard
that a newborn baby packed a meaner punch than him.”
“Someone told me it had something to do with her sister. I was too far
away to hear, but I saw him stand up and punch her. He knocked her flat on
her ass.”
Two female students I don’t know by name steal glances at me as they
lead their alicorns past us to the field. The closest one winces when she sees
my face. Her alicorn unexpectedly sidesteps in my direction, and I jump
before I can stop myself.
When I shift back toward Thorne, his narrowed eyes and shrewd
expression zip alarm down my spine. “I’m feeling a little unsteady on my
feet. Permission to go to the infirmary?”
For one horrifying instant, I’m convinced he’s going to deny me. I rub a
blood droplet from beneath my nose, flinching when my hand connects
with my sore lip.
He watches the motion before jerking his chin. “Permission granted.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I whirl before he can change his mind and stride toward the infirmary,
relief a warm swell within my chest. While only a temporary reprieve, I’ll
take what I can get. I know I’ll need to get more creative in the future if I
want to avoid class again.
“Next time, unless you’re dead or missing a limb, I’ll expect you to fly.”
I miss a step. Stumble. Force myself to continue walking without
looking back. That way I can tell myself that I’m imagining his suspicion-
laced words and remain happily convinced that he didn’t see right through
my scheme to avoid class.
 When I enter the infirmary, the freckled medic’s eyes widen. “You
again?”
With a sheepish grunt, I hop onto a cot. “Afraid so.”
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” Shaking his head, Keller proceeds
to make me a poultice. “Here, hold this on your eye. It should help with the
swelling.”
After confirming I’m following his instructions, he turns and rummages
through the cupboard. Scooting to one side, I crane my neck and peer into
the cupboard, too, triumph filling me a moment later. Yes. On the middle
shelf. The stack of bandages, shorter today than on my last visit, implies the
medic never got the chance to grab more supplies from the storage building.
He emerges from the cabinet holding a glass container. Quickly, I scoot
over to my original position on the cot. Wielding metal tongs, he withdraws
two tiny, brown, leaf-like objects and drops them into a small sack.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Willow bark for the pain. If your eye or head starts hurting too much,
break off a small piece and chew.” He hands me the bag. “Don’t take this
the wrong way, but I hope I don’t see you in here again anytime soon.”
A fledgling on one of the other cots moans. The medic shoots him a
harried glance, and I seize the opportunity. “I’m sorry to cause you so much
trouble. You’re a real lifesaver.” I lay the appreciation on thick, beaming
and pressing a hand to my chest.
That earns me a gratified smile. His pale cheeks turn pink. “It was no
trouble.”
“Still, I wish I could repay you somehow.” I nibble my lower lip as if in
thought. “Hey, I know. Do you still need someone to grab more bandages
and supplies for you out of storage? Because I talked to Flyer Quinnelle and
was planning to head there myself to grab my sister’s belongings.”
Not a lie. My first day at Flighthaven, I did talk to Flyer Quinnelle
about Leesa’s stuff, and one way or another, I do plan on hitting up storage
to grab her things. A key would just make my life a lot simpler. I never
claimed anyone sanctioned my visit. If Keller doesn’t know the rule about
waiting periods to claim personal items during active investigations…
well…oops.
His face lights up. “Really? That’d be great. The medical supplies are
by the entrance to the right, and the box with bandages should be labeled.”
 “What about the boxes belonging to previous students? Do you happen
to know where those are located? I forgot to ask and don’t want to waste a
bunch of time.”
“I believe you can find those in the back corner on the right side of the
building as well, though I won’t swear to it.”
Now comes the tricky part. “Perfect. Can I use your key? That’ll save
me a trip to the front office.”
He hesitates, his gaze becoming speculative as I arrange my features
into the expression of innocent sincerity that I perfected after a lifetime of
living with my mother.
Another fledgling stumbles into the infirmary, limping and groaning. “I
think I broke my ankle.”
The medic helps the fledgling to a cot before jerking his chin at me.
“Key’s in the blue bowl on the table. Thanks.”
He rolls up the fledgling’s trousers and begins to untie his patient’s boot.
Hurrying to make my escape, I rush to the table, snatch the key, and bolt for
the door.
Guilt pings in my chest as I dash into the sunlight. I rub the spot, telling
myself that I’m not completely misleading him. I really am doing him a
favor…I’m just tacking on a little extra bonus for my good behavior.
Fine, so I’m a jerk. I can accept that. If minor acts of jerkiness are the
sole payment required to find Leesa, I’ll consider it a small price. At least
I’m not choking unsuspecting dessert-eaters with poisoned custard or
shooting arrows at people’s heads with no provocation.
With the other fledglings in classes, the walkways are empty. The
storage building squats on the opposite side of campus. After reassuring
myself that no one’s looking, I break into a jog. It still takes me a good
chunk of time to reach the building. Feeling a little like a criminal, I insert
the key and unlock the door. Sunlight spills inside, illuminating a rectangle
of gray stone floor, and ever-lamps affixed to the walls reveal tower upon
tower of trunks and miscellaneous objects.
I blow out a mouthful of air. “Let’s hope our medic friend knows what
he’s talking about.” If not, it could take days to sift through all this crap to
find Leesa’s trunk.
Thankfully, Keller was right. Stacks of trunks wait in the far back
righthand corner, all of them labeled with names. I locate Leesa’s without
too much trouble and open the trunk, holding my breath as I inspect the
contents.
Three training uniforms, perfectly folded. Flying leathers.
Undergarments, socks, and sturdy leather boots. A navy cloak. Sleepwear. A
fancy dress and a few other garments from home. Toiletries, notebooks, and
a couple of odds and ends, one of which is the small jade carving of a
dragon that I paid Royce to find for Leesa and then gave to her as a birthday
gift. No clues await. No surprises there. This was always a longshot. Still, I
can’t help the cold weight of disappointment that presses against my skin.
The optimist in me had clung to the hope of finding a clue hidden amongst
her stuff. A journal. A letter. Anything.
A horrifying realization crushes my spine. The trunk contains a lot of
belongings. Too many belongings for Leesa to have taken much, if
anything, with her.
A lump clots my throat. Leesa leaving her stuff behind makes running
off with a lover less likely, and of the believable theories, that was the most
benign. The others involve someone hurting her. But why? Why Leesa, and
why from Flighthaven?
Male voices reach my ears, signaling the end of my adventure. I toss
Leesa’s belongings, everything except for the jade dragon and the
notebooks, back into the trunk. When the door creaks open, I have the chest
sitting in its original spot.
Pocketing the dragon, I clutch the notebooks to my chest with one hand,
dangle the key from the other, and stride down the walkway toward the
door while muttering aloud. “Now, where could that medical box be? Keller
will kill me if I’m not back with those bandages soon.”
One of the men calls out a greeting. If my surprised gasp seems
theatrical, neither of them notice. They barely give me a second glance
before directing me to the right of the door. I make quick work of locating
the boxes of bandages, grabbing one, and returning to the infirmary.
After dropping off the supplies and key, I have just enough time to
return to my room and tuck Leesa’s notebooks beneath my mattress. With
my head throbbing, I let my eyes drift shut for a second…
I wake to the dinner horn and spend most of the meal recounting my
version of my altercation with Elijah, and then listening as Olive, Abel, and
Theo recount different versions of the same event that grow more ridiculous
with each telling. The gossip here could rival the stories my mother’s
friends whisper at her parties.
By the time we finish eating and return to the room, all I want is peace
and quiet. Flopping on my bed, I bury my nose in a book I brought from
home and thank the gods when Olive takes the hint and doesn’t chatter in
my ear. I read as she and Helene head off to the shared showers.
Upon their return, they both fall fast asleep, and the room fills with their
soft snores and sighs. After reading until my eyes start to cross, I trade my
book for my white nightgown and the towel provided by Flighthaven and
head for the common bathing chamber. Thankfully, it’s empty. I’m not
ashamed of my body, but I’m also not accustomed to getting naked in front
of other people. I figure I can work my way up to exposing more skin in
front of others once I’ve settled in.
Through some delightful combination of piping, hot springs, and magic,
warm water flows from round holes in the wall. I soap off and then stand
beneath the cascade. With my palms planted against the wall, I lower my
face and let the soothing heat ease the agony from my screaming muscles.
The solitude allows me a few moments of peace…to simply exist. Away
from the scrutiny of so many eyes.
For so long, I’ve been desperate for a taste of freedom. Anything to get
me out of the castle. Now that I have it, I’m not sure what I think. I’ve been
gone less than three days, and already I long for the safety of my home.
Maybe my mother is right. Maybe I’m too weak to thrive outside of the
castle grounds.
By the time I finally flip the switch that stops the water, my skin has
pinkened. Wringing the moisture from my hair, I step outside the enclosure,
freezing when the ever-lights flicker off. The chamber plunges into
darkness.
“Hello? Is someone there?”
A noise, like a muffled snicker, echoes in the chamber before silence
reigns again. My pulse drums in my ears. Is this part of the hazing Olive
and Vice Commander Torno mentioned? Elijah and his buddies preparing
for another round of target practice? Another attempt at cooking me to a
crisp with fireballs? Whatever the threat, one thing’s for sure. Naked and
wet isn’t the ideal way to face it.
Ignoring my bleating nerves, I fumble around in the dark until my
fingers touch soft linen. My nightgown. More groping doesn’t recover the
towel, so I pull the nightgown over my head without drying off. The thin
material clings to my damp skin, but at least I’m covered. One problem
solved. If only I could access my fire magic and banish the darkness, but a
quick attempt results in the usual failure.
A whisper off to the left causes me to jump. Assholes. Don’t they have
anything better to do than play immature pranks or bully me? At least no
one’s aiming a deadly weapon at my heart. Yet.
The thought barely has time to surface before a flame flickers to life.
Harsh hands grab my shoulders. Someone stuffs a cloth into my mouth. I
catch a fleeting glimpse of masked faces before my assailants shove a bag
over my head.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirteen

I kick out, struggling against my captor. My bare foot connects with a solid
object, eliciting a muffled curse.
“Secure her feet.”
No matter how much I wriggle and struggle, I can’t hold them off. Vines
wind around my wrists and ankles and cut into my skin. With a grunt, I’m
lifted off the ground and hefted over a shoulder. The force slams my nose
into my captor’s back, and I choke on the stench of stale sweat.
The man I assume to be the ringleader of my abduction speaks. “Keep
quiet. None of us can afford to get caught.”
We start to move. After wiggling my hands and feet to check the
bindings, I remain still, preserving my strength. Panic would drown me if I
let it, because I no longer know if this is hazing or something much, much
worse. These people might have kidnapped Leesa. Maybe even killed her. I
need to keep my wits and prepare to fight if the opportunity presents itself.
When. When the opportunity presents itself. I refuse to go down easily.
Mother wouldn’t survive a second missing daughter.
A door creaks. Cold air brushes my damp gown, and the realization that
we’re outside extinguishes any hope that they’re taking me to an empty
room in the building to perform some silly initiation.
After a short walk that smashes my nose against my captor’s back with
every step, we stop. I’m lifted off his shoulder, only to be flopped over
another object in much the same way. A firm surface supports my stomach,
while my arms and legs dangle. A musty animal scent tickles my nose.
“Stay still if you want to remain alive.”
There’s a clicking noise. A snort. The surface beneath my stomach
lurches, followed by rhythmic thuds. Hoofbeats.
Dread tightens a noose around my neck. Horse? Or alicorn?
The beast beneath speeds up, jarring my body and rattling my teeth with
each stride. I hold the terror at bay until the whoosh whoosh of flapping
wings assaults my ears. The world tilts, and I pray to any god who might
listen when we take off into the night sky.
Alicorn. These bastards put me on an alicorn. What in the hells are they
planning to do? Fly me up to dizzying heights so they can toss me off and
watch me fall to my death?
My head swims. Buzzing fills my ears. Memories flash behind my eyes,
sucking me under.
My joyful giggle. My father’s strong arms around me. Soaring in the air,
the wind tugging at my hair and the alicorn’s mane.
Shouts. An agonized shriek.
My stomach bottoming out as the alicorn plummets toward the ground.
Falling, falling, falling…
The hooves clatter to a stop. With a gasp, I surface from the past,
covered in cold sweat. Someone grabs me beneath my arms and lifts,
setting me on my feet.
“Listen carefully. I’m going to cut the binding on your hands and feet.
Once I do that, count to fifty. Then you can remove the gag and bag over
your head. Nod if you understand.”
I give a desperate nod. Now that I’m off the alicorn, my knees ache to
buckle in relief, but it’s too early for celebrating. Unless they flew us in a
big circle back to the dorms for shits and giggles, I’m certain the worst is
yet to come.
“A little birdy told me you were afraid of flying, and if you can’t fly,
you have no business being here. We’ll give you one chance. Agree to leave
and let someone more qualified fill your spot, and we’ll take you back to
your room right now.”
And abandon Leesa? No. Not happening.
He chuckles. “Okay, then. Guess we’ll find out if you’re scared come
morning, because you’ll either get down on your own or you’ll still be
rotting up here. Or you’ll be dead.”
He states the three options like they’re all the same to him. And how
does he know about my fear of flying? Someone must have seen through
my dizzy routine, but who?
A sawing motion yanks at my ankle restraints until my legs are free. My
hands are next. “Remember, count to fifty.”
Teeth chattering, I count.
One, two, three…
Wings flap, the noise growing fainter every second.
Four, five, six…
When I reach fifty, I rip the bag off my head and fumble with the gag.
The cloth loosens enough for me to yank the foul object from my mouth,
and I gulp fresh air while taking stock of my surroundings. Combined with
the faint firelights emitting around campus, the moon cuts the darkness just
enough for me to see where I am…or rather, where I’m not.
“Son of a dragon’s ass.”
Barely daring to breathe, I peer over the edge of the rooftop. The very,
very tall rooftop. The ground is a steep drop—the kind of fall that would
snap my bones into pieces and crack my skull like a ripe melon.
A glance behind me confirms that I’ve been stranded on the top of one
of the tall towers I spotted on my way into Flighthaven. The much too
narrow ledge, combined with a surge of wind, has me yelping and dropping
to my butt. I’m so stressed, I don’t realize I’m not alone up here until an
annoyed whicker startles me.
Oh, shit.
I freeze. If I don’t look, maybe I can pretend I’m alone. A second snort
dispels that idea. With my heart thrashing against my ribs, I ever so slowly
crane my head to the right. Leesa’s massive alicorn stands a few paces
away, head lowered and sharp horn pointed at my face. His hooves barely
fit on the narrow ledge.
I gawk, outrage momentarily breaking through my fear. “You have got
to be shitting me. It’s like someone thought, hmm, what could make this
experience worse? Oh, I know. Let’s add an alicorn!”
As if taking exception to my comment, the beast flares his nostrils and
shakes his head.
With a muffled whimper, I scrabble backwards. Logically, I know my
fear is ridiculous. It’s not as if an alicorn ever attacked me. One just
dropped me mid-flight. No big deal.
Okay, so maybe it is a big deal. Especially since my father died. In a
weird way, it tracks that my brain is wired to equate alicorns with danger.
Still, I need to get over it. Preferably now. Wetting myself because a hairy,
horned beast is sharing my current perch won’t make my situation any more
pleasant.
I lick my dry lips. “Sorry. It’s not you, it’s me. Zephyr. That’s your
name, right?”
Not sure if I’m expecting a reply, but the alicorn snorts. I’ll take that as
a yes.
Suddenly, my kidnapper’s comment makes sense. Come morning, if I’m
safely tucked in my bed and Zephyr’s in his stall, then all is well, and I’m
not scared to fly. But if I’m still stuck up here, it means I’m too chickenshit
to climb onto Zephyr’s back and ride him to the ground. Though, fear aside,
I’m not sure how anyone expects me to mount the animal in such a cramped
space.
I peer over the edge again and peek at the structure below me. Just like I
thought, the tower is built from stones, most of which are about the length
of my forearm.
“Guess what, assholes? You forgot an option.” One that gets me out of
this predicament without flying or dying. Hopefully.
Is it a smart option? No. But it’s the only viable choice. I need to stay
for Leesa’s sake, and if the entire campus learns of my fear of flying, I’m
sure to be booted out of Flighthaven to join ground soldier training at
Forthaven…or get assigned to an even shittier post. For that same reason, I
can’t scream for help. And since the chance of me vaulting onto Mr. Pointy
here and cruising down to the dorms is zero, that leaves me with exactly
one course of action.
Climbing.
I inhale deeply, working to gather my courage. Heights are never my
favorite, but remove the alicorn from the picture, and I can manage without
the debilitating fear. I succeeded in climbing up to my bedchamber window
at home without maiming or killing myself. In breeches, though. Not a
dress. This nightgown won’t do me any favors.
Grabbing the hem, I tie it in a loose knot above my knees. I shoo Zephyr
with my hands. When that doesn’t work, I bark a string of commands at the
alicorn. After multiple failed attempts, he finally flaps his wings when I
hiss, “stable,” but only after shooting me what I swear is an exasperated
glare. Once he takes off, I crawl to the edge, flip onto my stomach, and
lower my feet over the side. My toes scrape across rough stone until they
dip into the space between one stone and the next. I guess I’m doing this.
With my nerves as taut as a bowstring, I ease myself a little farther
down the wall. The toe grips between stones are better than I expected. Still,
one false move will end with me splatting on the earth below.
I climb, slow and steady, having no trouble finding good hand and toe
grips.
About a quarter of the way down, the first sprinkles hit. I pause, sucking
down air like I can’t get enough. My teeth chatter.
“Don’t panic. Don’t panic.”
What now? Climb back up to the top? Or stay the course and hope the
rain stops before the stone gets too slick?
The worst thing I can do is nothing. Faced with two terrible options, I
stick with the original plan to continue the downward climb. Only faster.
The sprinkles shift to light rain. The wind picks up, tousling my hair.
With every move, my toes slip on the water-slicked rock before finding
purchase. And I’m not even halfway down yet.
The odds of surviving become grimmer by the second.
Another gust of wind rustles my hair and gown, carrying a faint hint of
animal fur, leather, and spice. My head spins, in what must be the world’s
worst timing for a dizzy spell. A flapping noise breaks my misery.
“What in the three hells do you think you’re doing?”
I yelp, and my hand slips on the slick surface. Panic shrieks through my
limbs as I scrabble to latch on. Once I’ve regained my grip, I pant until the
sharpest edge of terror abates.
I don’t need to look to know who I’ll find hovering nearby. Instructor
Thorne. Of course. Out of all the possible rescuers, why did it have to be
him? “Don’t sneak up on me like that! Are you trying to kill me?”
Several beats pass. “It doesn’t look like you need my assistance in that
department. We’re directly below you now. Let go, and I’ll grab you and fly
you down.”
Despite my precarious situation, a storm brews behind my ribs. He
sounds put out, the big jerk. Like this is all just a giant inconvenience for
him.
 Gee, so sorry my near splat on the rocks below is keeping you from your
favorite hobbies…like torturing kittens or making babies cry.
I dip my chin and catch a glimpse of an alicorn wing. My stomach
plunges. “No, thank you. Sir.”
“What do you mean, ‘no, thank you?’”
I can almost hear him gritting his teeth.
“I mean, no. Thank you. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather climb
down.”
“‘If it’s all the same to me,’ she says.” The bemused note in his voice
has me wondering what kind of expression he’s wearing. His growl a
moment later kills my curiosity. “Duchess, I don’t give a single fuck about
what you’d rather do. As your instructor, I am ordering you to let go of the
wall and get your ass on this alicorn. Now.”
As much as I’d love to, I can’t risk disobedience. No doubt he’d hound
me the entire climb down and act even more insufferable during flight
training. Besides, the rock has gotten too slippery.
“But how can you catch me? The alicorn’s wings⁠—”
“I’ll catch you.”
His firm reply allows for no argument. Maybe I’m a fool, but something
in me trusts his confidence.
“Okay. I’m letting go.” My fingers revolt by tightening their grip.
“I’m…not sure if I can.”
He mutters under his breath. “You can. If you don’t, I’ll take matters
into my own hands.”
The threat in his words causes a whimper to catch in my throat. The
thought of me dropping onto the alicorn on my own is horrifying enough.
But the prospect of Thorne yanking me onto the creature’s back instead is a
thousand times worse.
After several failed attempts, I finally uncurl my fingers and let go.
Yelping, I fall for only a moment before icy-cold latches around my waist,
jerking me sideways until a strong arm replaces it. The ice whip Thorne
summoned vanishes. Terror seizes my muscles, but somehow, I manage to
straddle the alicorn. Thorne pulls my back against his chest, his warmth
seeping in through my damp gown.
The alicorn moves, and I flinch, lashing out with my hands to grasp the
closest source of stability.
Thorne grunts. “Here, hold onto the reins instead.”
 I shake my head. “I would, but I can’t see them.”
“Why can’t you see them?”
The alicorn swoops, the motion plucking a frightened yip from my
throat. “Because my eyes are shut.”
“Why are…never mind. Here, I’ll hand them to you. As much as I enjoy
a woman squeezing my thighs, now isn’t the appropriate place or time.”
Oh, gods. I manage to peel my eyes open for a quick peek and…yup.
I’m clutching Instructor Thorne’s thighs like a starving villager clutching
two fresh loaves of bread. Heat burns my face and neck. “Sorry. I didn’t
realize…”
Thankfully, he doesn’t use the opportunity to mock me further, instead
pushing the reins into my palm and curling my fingers around the leather.
Cold air blows on my skin as the alicorn coasts to the ground.
Unconsciously, I lean back into Thorne’s warmth. My breaths begin to
cycle at an alarming rate, so I try to focus on anything other than my current
situation. With my eyes squeezed shut, I notice how snugly Thorne and I fit
together. The hard strength of his chest pressing into my back. The firm grip
of his thighs around mine. The delicious way he smells, of leather and soap
and spice.
As soon as the direction of my thoughts registers, horror skewers my
gut. By the heavens, no. I don’t care how traumatic this experience has
been, there’s no excuse for lusting after Instructor Thorne. Even if he is
hotter than the desert sun. Even if his rescues are becoming habitual. For
one, the man’s an absolute ass. For two, he’s my teacher. For three, he’s an
absolute ass. Yes, I counted that last one twice, but he’s such a dickhead
most of the time that it bears repeating.
I’m so distracted by my momentary slip of sanity that I forget my fear.
When Zephyr’s hooves strike the ground in front of the dorms, shock
ricochets through my bones. We made it. In one piece.
Thorne dismounts first. Once he’s off, he grabs me around the waist to
help me dismount as well. I release a shuddering breath, relieved to be back
on solid footing. The damp grass feels amazing under my bare feet. Safe.
I’m tempted to drop to my knees and kiss the ground, but Thorne has
enough reasons to sneer at me without adding another to the list.
“What in the gods’ names are you wearing?”
The strangled quality to his voice prompts me to open my eyes, where I
find his gaze focused on my gown. My damp gown. Glancing down, I see
the material clings to my breasts in a way that leaves little to the
imagination.
Warmth floods my cheeks. Part of me wants to die on the spot. I clear
my throat and cross my arms over my chest. I swear, if even one rude or
mocking comment leaves his mouth, I might just strangle him.
Our eyes meet, and my previous thoughts scatter like dust. The heat in
his stare is unmistakable, making me wonder if he shares in my
inconvenient lust. If he, too, noticed how good his body felt pressed up
against mine.
The air between us thickens, and his gaze dips to my mouth. Warmth
unfurls in my belly. Tempting me. I wonder what would happen, if I leaned
in and planted my lips⁠—
A dragon roars in the distance, jerking me back into reality. A world
where we don’t kiss because Thorne is both my instructor and an enormous
dick.
I edge toward the dorms’ door. “Well, thank you for rescuing me.
Though I still contend that I could have climbed my way down.”
The fire vanishes from his eyes so quickly, I wonder if I imagined the
spark. His expression becomes an indifferent mask, though my last
comment causes an upward twitch of his lips. “Of course you do. Do I want
to know why you were up there?”
I offer a nervous laugh. “Oh, you know. Just a little fun amongst
fledglings. Nothing to worry about.”
He’s not buying it, but whatever. The ordeal ended, and I don’t plan on
filing a report. I’ll just be a lot more careful about my showering habits
from here on out.
“You’re lucky I was out and saw Zephyr flying down from the tower.
Otherwise, you might have been stuck up there all night. I’d ask why in the
blistering hells you came here, but I know you didn’t have a choice.” He
shakes his head. “A Flighthaven fledgling, afraid of alicorns.”
I open my mouth to lie. Close it again. There’s no point in arguing. He
knows my secret. Well, that secret. “What can I say? I like to be original.”
For a heartbeat, the lip twitch approaches a smile. “Too bad your
exemption wasn’t approved.”
I wrinkle my brow. “What exemption? I didn’t request an exemption.”
Not yet.
My mumbled statement makes him still. “Could you repeat that?”
 “I said, I didn’t request an exemption.”
He drags a hand down his jaw. “That’s what I thought you said, but I
was sure I heard wrong.” His stare dissects me like I’m some strange new
specimen of magical creature that stumbled across his path and he can’t
quite believe his eyes. “What kind of reckless fool doesn’t request an
exemption from flight academy when the idea of flying makes them
collapse in the dirt like a dead slug?”
“Thank you so much for that charming visual. I’ll be sure to cherish it
always.” Exasperated, I dig my fingers into my upper arms and squeeze.
“And me. Obviously. I’m the type of reckless fool to do that.”
“Why?”
The intensity of his searching look dampens my palms. I avert my gaze
to focus on a fascinating section of grass. I could ignore the question, but
there’s no point, and I figure I owe him that much for the rescue. “Because
my sister went missing from here without a trace, and I swore to myself I’d
do everything in my power to find her. And this,” I sweep my hands wide to
encompass the Flighthaven campus, “is within my power. Even if I do find
the thought of hopping onto an alicorn’s back terrifying enough to
impersonate a dead slug.”
“Can you impersonate a dead slug when it’s not a person?”
I blow out an annoyed breath. “Really? You want to debate semantics
right now?”
He ignores my words, instead studying me with an enigmatic
expression. Delightful. Now I feel like a slug he’s pinned to a board to
analyze at will. After the night’s adventures, I’m probably about as
appealing as one too.
After an extended inspection where I’m tempted to wriggle my little
sluggy self out of view, he tugs on his earlobe and heaves a disgruntled
sigh. “Starting tomorrow, meet me at the alicorn paddock every morning,
one hour before breakfast.” The gruff quality of his voice and stilted
enunciation make the offer sound forced.
My suspicion rises. I knew it. He saved me, and now he’s going to
punish me. Probably in some sadistic, humiliating manner. My mind
summons a buffet of horrifying options before I remember his initial threat.
“To muck out the stable?”
His eyes narrow. “Don’t tempt me. I was planning to help you overcome
your fear of alicorns and flying, but if you’d prefer to clean out the stalls…”
 He shrugs, awaiting my reply.
Snarky delivery or not, his willingness to help softens something in my
chest. A stupid lump forms in my throat. “Getting over my fear sounds
good. Thank you.”
“Let’s see if you’re still thanking me come morning. Now, if you’re
done playing damsel in distress for tonight, I’m going to get some sleep.”
And just like that, the goodwill his offer of assistance generated
crumbles into dust. I glare at his retreating back as he leads Zephyr away,
wishing with all my might that the alicorn would spear him in the ass.
Zephyr picks that moment to whip his regal head around. He regards me
with one baleful eye, glances at Thorne’s—admittedly fine—ass, and tosses
his head with a whinny that sounds an awful lot like laughter.
“Fucking alicorns. Fucking annoying flight instructors. I’m so done
with this day.” Muttering, I stalk barefoot across the grass and into the
dorms. The hour is late, and thanks to Thorne, I get to wake up extra early.
Today’s only saving grace is that tomorrow will surely be better.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Fourteen

No one stirs when I sneak out of the dorms early the next morning while the
darkness slowly releases the sky to the creeping gray-yellow light of dawn.
A cool breeze caresses my face, tugging at the wisps of hair that threaten to
escape my braid. I wish the air would sweep away my dread over my first
private lesson with Thorne, but I doubt even one of the deadly windstorms
that occasionally strike Aclaris and destroy businesses and homes would be
strong enough for that task.
Although I arrive at the stable ten minutes early, he’s waiting outside,
leaning against the door with his arms crossed. The picture of impatience.
I stifle a yawn with the back of my hand and ignore his body language.
It’s too early to indulge his grumpy tendencies just yet.
Determined to get through the next hour, I give myself a mental pep
talk.
Don’t engage. You can survive his attitude for an hour. One. Tiny. Hour.
I produce a sunny smile. “Good morning, Instructor Thorne.”
His narrowed eyes roam over me like he’s sizing me up. “You’re late.”
I blink. “What? I’m ten minutes early.”
He snorts his displeasure, reminding me of one of the alicorns. “You’re
twenty minutes late, Duchess.”
Just like that, my resolve to be agreeable fizzles. “You told me to meet
you an hour before breakfast. And here I am, an hour and ten minutes
before breakfast. I don’t know what kingdom you’re from, sir, but here in
Aclaris, that means⁠—”
“An hour before my breakfast. The instructors eat thirty minutes before
the recruits do.”
My jaw unhinges. “How was I supposed to know that if you didn’t tell
me beforehand? It doesn’t count if you tell me after the fact.”
He raises his gaze skyward, like he’s praying to the gods for patience.
“Are you always this argumentative?”
“What can I say, you bring out the best of me.” My temper rises. “Are
you always this arrogant?”
His jaw ticks, and he pushes into my space. My muscles tense with a
strange anticipation. “I don’t like babysitting you any more than you like
being here. But if you want to survive your time at Flighthaven, it’s in your
best interest to cooperate.”
I suck in a breath. If I want to survive? Is he threatening me? “What is
that supposed to mean?”
His chest rumbles. “It means I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“By yelling at and browbeating me?”
He rakes a hand through his thick, shoulder-length black hair, which
hangs loose this morning. I find myself distracted, wondering if the waves
are as soft as they appear. “Do you seriously have to ask me that?”
I open my mouth, but the look he gives me snaps it shut. Okay. Maybe I
am being a little argumentative. I blame him. He evokes a strong reaction in
me.
“Sorry.” My muttered apology makes me sound like an ungrateful brat.
“Enough,” he tugs on my arm, and I have no choice but to follow,
“we’re wasting valuable time. Let’s go.”
Once inside the stable, my irritation evaporates when I spot the never-
ending rows of stalls on either side of the massive structure. Morning light
filters in through the windows, illuminating the powerful creatures stirring
in their stalls.
Out of instinct, I step back. My heart rate kicks up.
Horses. They’re just giant horses with wings. And horns. Enormous,
sharp horns and huge wings they use to fly…and I need to stop already
because this isn’t helping.
I tell myself that I rode one last night and am still in one piece. The
reminder actually calms me a little.
 Thorne thrusts a pitchfork in my hand. “Here.”
I grip the tool. “What’s this for?”
He rolls his eyes. “And here I thought you were smarter than you
looked.”
“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you really have a way
with people.”
A surprised blink, followed by laughter. The rich, throaty sound stuns
me at first before wrapping around me like a snare. I’m certain this is the
first time I’ve heard him laugh, and the transformation that occurs on his
face mesmerizes me. His features soften, and the tawny skin near his gold-
flecked eyes crinkles. If I thought he was attractive while scowling,
laughing makes him downright breathtaking.
My pulse speeds up again, this time for an entirely different reason.
Stop it. He’s your instructor. You don’t even like him, and for good
reason…because he’s an ass.
Still chuckling, he shakes his head. I continue to stare. Until this
moment, I’m not sure I believed this man even knew how to laugh. I’m
reeling and have no idea what to say or do.
A faint smile lingers on his mouth. “I guess I’m lucky I don’t care what
other people think.”
“You, not caring what other people think? Shocking.”
“It’s not always a bad thing.”
The gentle tone indicates that he’s not being unkind, but stating a fact,
and I don’t know how to take this new side of him. It’s like something
changed since last night, causing him to slip off his usual mask of cocky
self-assuredness and stand bare before me without any pretense.
Truth be told, the transformation makes me a little uncomfortable.
“Um,” I stare at my boots, annoyed by my breathlessness, “I think you
were about to lecture me on how to use a pitchfork.”
His mouth tips up again. “Have you ever used one?”
I shake my head. “Can’t say that I have.”
“Well, here’s a tip,” he nods at the pitchfork, “aim the pointy end at the
straw.”
My jaw drops. First a laugh, and now a joke? Should I check for a big
cosmic event in play tonight? “Great. Very helpful. But yesterday, I thought
you said I didn’t have to muck the stable out.”
His shoulders lift. “I changed my mind.”
 Irritation prickles my skin. “Is this some sort of punishment for rescuing
me off the tower? Because as surprising as it may sound, getting stuck up
there wasn’t my idea.”
“What?” Thorne’s brow creases. “No. Of course not.”
He guides me to the first empty stall and makes a sweeping gesture to
the wheelbarrow inside.
I stare. “Okay, now what?”
“Now,” his eyes actually sparkle, “you muck out the stalls.”
“All of them?”
“As many as you have time for.”
After grabbing the pitchfork from me and offering a quick
demonstration, Thorne hands the tool back to me. Grumbling under my
breath, I make quick work of the first stall.
Once I’ve finished, I poke my head out the door. Trepidation washes
over me. A snowy white alicorn stares straight at me, murderous intent in its
eyes.
This creature wants to kill me.
Swallowing hard, I drop my gaze, willing my breathing to slow.
Thorne rests a hand on its powerful shoulder and murmurs something
low. I can’t parse out the words, but his tone is almost…reverent. The
creature sidesteps, snorting and nipping at his hand.
My stomach knots. “Did that thing just try to bite you?”
“No.” He shoots me an exasperated look. “This alicorn just ate a carrot
stick I gave her. And I don’t think Nova appreciates you referring to her as a
thing.”
“Oh. Sorry.” I lick my lips, forcing myself to observe Nova as she
munches on a piece of carrot. “I didn’t mean any offense. Truly.” I feel silly
whispering to an animal so powerful she could gore me with her horn in
one swift blow. “I wonder how much you can understand?”
With an unreadable expression, he studies me long enough to make me
fidget. “Not what you say so much as how you say it and how you act. Your
body language. She can sense your intentions and emotions. If you’re
afraid, or if you mean her harm. Alicorns are highly intelligent animals.”
I peek at the creature’s crystalline blue eyes again, trying to determine
whether she truly wants to kill me, or if my imagination is running wild.
When she paws at the dirt floor, I’m not so sure.
“What’s she doing?”
 “She’s restless. Time to move onto her stall.” He gestures to the
wheelbarrow beside me. “I’ll move each alicorn out into the aisle while you
muck out their stalls. Shouldn’t take too long.”
I flash him what I hope is a grateful smile, but I’m pretty certain I just
come across as nervous. “Okay.”
When I’ve cleaned so many stalls my arms and back feel disconnected
from my body, Thorne saunters up. “Let’s keep moving. We don’t have all
day.”
Suspicion roots in my chest. “Are you sure this isn’t punishment?”
“Of course, I’m sure.” He smirks. “Though I’m not denying the
entertainment value of watching a pampered princess wade through alicorn
shit.”
What the hells? “Sounds an awful lot like punishment to me. And I’m
not a princess.”
He shrugs and inspects his nails like he’s bored. “Princess…duchess.
Whatever.”
My blood heats, and I have a strong urge to kick him in the shin. I’m
slaving the morning away and this cocky bastard is enjoying the show.
At least one of us is having a good time.
I take a deep breath. “I’m not a duchess either.”
“Close enough. Finish up this one,” he motions around the stall, “and
meet me outside.”
As he strolls off, I tighten my grip on the pitchfork. What I wouldn’t
give to introduce the pointed end to his arrogant ass.
A few minutes later, after I’ve mucked my last stall, I head out of the
stable.
Thorne leads a saddled Zephyr toward me. My breath hitches. I will not
have a repeat of yesterday.
I inhale slowly, hold my breath, and exhale. “Isn’t our time almost up?”
“Lucky for you, despite your lack of punctuality, we’ve got about
fifteen minutes left.” He crooks a finger. “Come over here.”
Obeying, I approach with caution, so irritated I don’t realize what he’s
doing at first. Much like yesterday, Thorne grabs my waist and deposits me
onto Zephyr’s back.
My heart drums in my ears, and that all too familiar panic threatens to
pull me under. I grab for Zephyr’s mane, holding on for dear life.
 “Breathe, Duchess. Just relax. Nothing’s going to happen. I’ve got the
reins.”
For some unknown reason, I believe him, just like I did last night when
he told me to let go. At least when it comes to alicorns, I feel safe with him.
And that’s a thought I don’t currently have the capacity to analyze.
Loosening my grip, I glance at Thorne. “Okay. This isn’t so bad.”
“You’ll be ready to fly with your class in no time.”
I snort. Someone’s feeling optimistic this morning. There’s a major
difference between sitting on an alicorn and flying on one, but I don’t want
to argue. Not when he’s trying so hard to encourage me. “You think so?”
“Absolutely. Relaxing is the key. You can’t be uptight and
hyperventilating when you ride. Passing out in the air wouldn’t end well.”
I cringe at the image, reminding myself to keep taking deep, slow
breaths. “That’s a visual I didn’t need.”
“Ready to dismount?” When I nod, he reaches for me, splaying his
hands around my waist and lifting me from the alicorn. Even after my boots
touch the ground, he continues holding me against him for a few moments,
searching my face. “You okay?”
His warm, solid body, along with the scent of leather and soap, envelops
me. I never thought something so simple could smell so good, but it’s
intoxicating.
“Yes.” I wobble a little when he releases me, but this time, I don’t
collapse. “I feel fine.”
“Good.” The slight quirk of his eyebrow says he doesn’t quite believe
me. “Let me show you how to take the saddle off and groom him, and then
you’d better go.”
Back in the stable, Thorne offers me a brush. I accept, turning the
grooming tool over in my hands. “Where do I start?”
“At the neck.”
I eye Zephyr, reminding myself to stay calm so he doesn’t pick up on
my fear. After last night’s adventure, the alicorn seems a little less scary,
especially when I remember he was Leesa’s first. “Easy, boy. I bet my sister
loved you to pieces, didn’t she?”
Zephyr whickers and nudges my hand with his velvety nose. The
motion startles me, but I don’t jump. Progress.
After a few clumsy strokes with the brush, Thorne shakes his head.
 “Let me show you.” He folds his hand over mine, guiding the brush
back to Zephyr’s silvery gray neck. “Go in the direction of the hair, not
against it. Don’t brush so light you’re tickling him, but don’t bear down too
hard either. And be gentle with the wings.”
Together, we stroke the alicorn’s coat. I’m all too aware of the big,
calloused hand wrapped around mine, and the unwelcome warmth such an
innocent touch stirs inside me.
Clearing my throat, I pull my hand away. “I think I’ve got it.” Thorne
discovering my body’s inadvertent reaction to him is a humiliation I’d
prefer to avoid at all costs.
He steps back, lingering nearby as I finish. “Better.”
I breathe easier now that there’s more space between us. “Isn’t it about
time for breakfast? For instructors, I mean?”
“It’s past time.” He runs his hand down Zephyr’s back, and the alicorn
tosses his head. “Now it’s your turn to eat.”
“You missed breakfast? Why didn’t you stop me earlier?”
“Because I already ate in my room.” With a smirk, he grabs the brush
and nods toward the mess hall. “Make sure you’re here an hour and a half
before your breakfast time tomorrow.”
Unbelievable.
As I storm off, a thunderous bellow rattles the air, dying off into a
keening cry. Another plaintive wail follows. A phantom fist squeezes my
ribs. I whirl toward the huge iron and stone enclosure towering a short
distance away. The dragon aerie. But what in the heavens could cause one
of the dragons to wail like the sky is falling?
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Puzzled, I glance over my shoulder at Thorne, only then noting that I
unintentionally moved toward the aerie. I shake my head a few times,
attempting to dispel whatever daze grips me. Woah. Terrible idea to stumble
around Flighthaven in a semi-fugue state. Between my minimal nights of
good sleep and maximal stress levels since learning about Leesa, though,
I’m not surprised I’m zoning out. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“An excellent way to un-alive yourself. Though I suppose that would
save me the trouble of early morning training.”
Wow. “Your compassion knows no bounds.” Another wail fills the air.
The cry, so mournful and bruised, carves through me like a knife, digging at
some hidden spot deep inside. “Why do they sound so unhappy?”
 Thorne’s gaze darkens, and he replies with a cryptic, “Why wouldn’t
they sound unhappy?” before stalking toward the aerie.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Fifteen

With Thorne’s strange words ringing in my ears, I muddle through morning

classes without any major incidents. Though Elijah and Mark burn me with
an occasional menacing glare, they don’t approach me. I wonder if that
reluctance stems from Thorne stepping in during magic training yesterday,
and if so, how I feel about the development. Part of me is relieved that they
quit harassing me. Another part bristles over the reminder that I’m weak
and need someone to fight my battles for me.
I decide to quit worrying and enjoy the harassment-free time while I
can, instead focusing on training. Despite a few close calls, I manage to
avoid vomiting during Kinneck’s drills. Navigation class also proceeds
without a hitch. My nerves don’t make an appearance until toward the end
of lunch. I forgot to ask Thorne about his plan for Flight training today.
Obviously, I’m still not ready to fly, and I’d prefer to avoid another sucker
punch to the head. Leaving the excuse for missing class in Thorne’s hands
probably isn’t the smartest idea considering how little the man likes me. I
suppose his loathing has decreased a teensy bit since our first meeting but
that’s like a blizzard easing into a snowstorm. One might be more intense
than the other, but both can freeze you to death.
Flyer Quinnelle solves my dilemma by approaching our table in the
mess hall. “Axton, Holte, Pendrick, and Rummon. Your unit won’t be
participating in flight training today. It’s your turn to work the eyril field.
Report there immediately after lunch.”
 My heart does a little leap as he names the members of another flight
unit. I don’t know much about the plant and its green-orange tendrils, but
anything that gives me a reprieve from flight training can’t be that bad.
Though the memory of the fledgling thrashing and clawing his skin bloody
from a magical overdose plucks the hairs on the back of my neck like an icy
hand.
For once, I thank my atypical magic. Not needing eyril means that
fledgling’s fate will not be mine. During the walk to the field, I think about
how everyone apart from me takes eyril daily and wonder how easy it is to
go from regular dosing to craving more.
“Ready for your first eyril harvesting session?”
Olive’s question tugs me out of my thoughts as our unit halts just
outside the field. The pungent, earthy aroma mixed with that faint hint of
sweet decay permeates the air.
“I think so. It sounds…intriguing.”
Nick lifts an eyebrow, the salty ocean breeze rippling his dark brown
waves. “Interesting word choice. I’d have said dangerous, but whatever.”
Is he trying to scare me? “How so?”
He levels me with a you really are that naïve look and gestures toward
the eyril field. “Do you really have to ask?”
My gaze roams over ominous stalks so high a person could get lost in
them. “Humor me. Aside from ingesting too much, what’s dangerous about
the eyril field? I’ve never done this before.”
He huffs. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
I turn away, unable to hide a flicker of hurt over the non-answer. Nick’s
difficult to read sometimes. He’s typically more reserved compared to Olive
and Abel, but he doesn’t usually give off such a condescending vibe. I
thought we were starting to become friends. Now I wonder if he’s merely
tolerating me for the sake of the unit.
Abel approaches us, pushing a cart with a large wooden crate on top.
“Don’t pay any attention to him. He’s in a bad mood because of some letter
from home. Maybe his sweetheart came to her senses and found someone
more cheerful to spend her time with.”
Nick’s scowl could make children burst into tears. “She didn’t⁠—”
“Fledglings, gear up.” A middle-aged man with an angry red scar on his
right cheek and a large leather satchel slung over his shoulder strides toward
us.
 Light brown, sun-streaked hair peeks out from a wide-brimmed hat,
casting a shadow over his weathered face. His uniform is different from the
other instructors and recruits. Rather than the standard navy tunics and
trousers, his clothing fits like a second skin, the iridescent emerald green
glimmering like a rainbow when the sun strikes at the right angle.
Trying not to stare at this bizarre man, I widen my eyes at Olive, who
responds with an almost imperceptible shake of her head.
“I’m Instructor Eric Narrton.” The instructor steps toward me, providing
me with an up-close view of his puckered face. “When you’re here,” he
gestures toward the field, “I expect you to be diligent at all times. Eyril is a
powerful entity. It should be handled with the respect and care it deserves.
You’ll wear protective gear. No horseplay will be tolerated. Your unit will
show you what to do. Should you have a problem, I’ll be nearby. Any
questions?”
Plenty, but my mind is whirling too much to pluck a single one out.
“No, sir.”
“Excellent.” Instructor Narrton pulls a large tome from the satchel and
deposits the bag beside the crate before addressing the rest of my unit.
“Your gear and equipment are here. Once you finish, please remove the
gear and return it. I don’t want to chase anyone down because they trotted
off with a king’s ransom stuck to their cheap carcasses.”
I wrinkle my nose over the visual. This guy’s a real bowl of fun. A
collective “Yes, sir” echoes around us.
Narrton grunts, shooing the students with his hands as they line up to
gather the necessary garments. “Don’t just stand around. Hustle. Gear up,
watch what the others do, then get to work.”
Book in hand, he retreats to the shade of a nearby tree.
Nick, Abel, and Olive pull armfuls of clothing from the crate and
satchel, including boots, pants, tunics, and gloves. Each item has the same
iridescent quality as Narrton’s attire.
Olive sizes me up before rifling through the crate and handing me a pair
of pants and a shirt.
I accept the clothing, running a hand over the sleek material. Excitement
stirs in my chest. “Is this what I think it is?”
A smile tips the corners of her lips. “It’s made of dragon scales, making
it nearly indestructible. Just put everything on over your uniform, except the
boots. Leave your own pair here.” She gestures beside the crate.
 “Dragon scales are resistant to eyril oil.” Abel offers me a large, bulky
pair of gloves. “Make sure the gloves overlap your sleeves. You don’t want
any skin exposed.”
As I don the borrowed attire, a sense of awe settles over me. I’ve never
touched a dragon before, much less worn any clothing made from the
creature’s scales. The garments feel surprisingly light, allowing ease of
movement.
Nick passes me an odd dragon-scale mask that covers most of my face,
along with a pair of clear goggles for my eyes. “Keep these on while you’re
in the field. You don’t want any oil to get on your face. It burns like the
three hells.”
I glance around for the instructor, ensuring he’s out of earshot under the
tree. “Is that what happened to Narrton?”
“That’s the prevailing theory. No one knows for sure. Narrton’s a cagey
fuck.” Nick hands a helmet to Abel and Olive. “An odd one too. Once, I
carried a delivery out here and caught him talking to the eyril.”
Abel snorts. “Not this again.”
Nick glowers at his friend. “I’m telling you, it was weird.”
I inspect my helmet. “I don’t know. One of our maids chats with our
roses. She swears they grow better if someone sweet-talks them.”
Nick’s expression of utter betrayal prompts me to swallow my giggle.
“Okay, but Narrton wasn’t whispering sweet nothings. He was having a
full-blown argument with the stalks, complete with hand gestures and a
raised voice. At one point, he even rolled around near the edge of the field
and cried.”
“Oh. That does seem a little bizarre. Reena never did that.”
Nick points at Abel. “See? I told you. Weird.” Then he frowns. “Wait.
Who’s Reena?”
“She’s one of my mother’s maids.”
His animation dies. “Right. I sometimes forget how different our
upbringings were.”
I shuffle my feet. My childhood was probably more different than most,
but he’s talking about the disparity between affluent nobles and commoners.
While I don’t know much about Nick’s family or their circumstances, I do
understand that some families in our kingdom struggle more than others. I
wish King Xenon would do more to help those in need, especially with the
failing harvests and subsequent rise in crop prices. He must be inundated
with important tasks, but ensuring all Aclaris families and children have
homes and enough to eat is important too. Hopefully his focus will shift
sometime soon. While I’ve written several letters about the need in our own
village, I haven’t heard back yet. I have no idea if they get delivered to the
king or simply read by an underling who tosses them in the trash.
Abel interrupts the awkwardness. “Maybe he was role-playing.”
Nick pauses in the act of tying back his hair with a leather cord. “Maybe
who was role-playing?”
“Narrton. Acting out a little scenario with his favorite eyril plants. They
do seem to have a close relationship.”
Abel wiggles his eyebrows, making Nick scrunch his nose in disgust.
“Please never do or say that again. You just took it somewhere dirty.”
Abel shrugs. “Hey, the man spends a lot of time out here in the field. We
shouldn’t judge how he gets his jollies. That’d be like judging a sheep
farmer for getting a boner for one of his flock.”
Nick and Olive display matching expressions of horror. Nick recovers
first. “What the hells, man? Who wouldn’t judge a shepherd for wanting to
screw his sheep? You need to reevaluate your life choices.” He plops the
helmet on his head, muttering something that sounds a lot like perverted
fuck under his breath.
Olive holds up her palm. “Yeah, I’m out. I’m going to pretend this
conversation never happened.”
Abel leans closer to me. “Gotta love Nick. He’s so easy to wind up.”
Snickering, I balance against Olive for support and set my helmet on the
ground to yank my regular boots off. Despite the disturbing topic, warmth
blooms inside me like the unfurling petals of a sunlit rosebud. This. This
type of camaraderie is exactly what I was missing—what I was longing for
—while sequestered at Castle Axton. Now that I’ve experienced it, I’m not
sure I can let it go.
“Do your hair first.” Olive pats her auburn curls that she keeps in a low
bun. “Trust me when I tell you that you don’t want to get eyril oil in your
hair.” She reaches for my braid. “Here, let me help.”
After Olive unties my braid, she finger-combs my dark tresses, making
quick work of fashioning my hair in a bun similar to her own.
“Thanks. I completely forgot about my hair.”
Once we’ve donned our masks, I follow Olive into the eyril field. Nick
and Abel are already there, crouching low to the ground.
 “Is the oil not in the stalks?”
Olive shakes her head. “No. The more mature the plant, the taller it
grows. But the base of the plants just below the ground contains the oil.
When the plants get too full, they start to ooze. Thus the oily substance you
see in some places. That’s eyril.”
“If it’s so dangerous, how does anyone ingest it without harming
themselves?”
If my ignorance annoys Olive, she doesn’t show it. “Eyril needs to be
diluted to a fraction of its original strength. Otherwise, the oil will burn
your throat when you swallow it, then dissolve your stomach and the rest of
your insides.”
Before I can stop myself, another question rolls off my tongue. “Do we
scoop the oil up off the ground?”
“No, that oil’s tainted. We⁠—”
Abel snorts. “Tell that to the idiots who buy the polluted oil on the black
market. When it liquifies their insides or causes them to go insane instead of
enhancing their magic, they only have themselves to blame.”
“If the kingdom made safe eyril available to those people, that wouldn’t
happen.” Olive shoots him a glare. “Anyway, we have to carefully dig,
brush away the dirt, and inject a syringe into the bulbs to extract the oil.
Then we put it in vials and give them to Narrton.” She pats a leather pouch
at her waist. “I have what we need.”
“Here.” Abel hands me a spade. “Watch how I dig, and then do what I
do. We’ll brush away the excess dirt, withdraw the oil, and then fill the
vials.”
That sounds simple enough.
“You’d better be careful, though.” Nick winks. “If you pierce the wrong
part, eyril will squirt on you.”
I picture Narrton’s angry scar and grip the spade so hard I’m certain my
knuckles have whitened under the gloves. Yeah, no thank you. “Got it.”
Abel laughs, the sound a little distorted under his mask. “He’s just
messing with you. It doesn’t work that way.”
I elbow Nick in the ribs. “Jerk. I’ll be careful nonetheless.”
For a while, we work in silence. I imitate Abel as he digs in the soil,
locates each milky white bulb, and brushes the plant off before piercing the
tough flesh with the syringe and withdrawing the oily black liquid. The
strong, earthy odor competes with the aroma of sweet decay, reminding me
a bit of rotting fruit. When I fill my first vial, I study the inky black liquid
and ponder how much money a single vial might fetch on the black market.
A lot, no doubt. Enough, I imagine, to make stealing one an enticing
temptation for some fledglings.
As we move on to other plants, Nick and Olive fill the vials with
precision borne of experience.
“I don’t see any other plants ready for harvesting here.” Abel stands and
stretches. “Want to pair off? Might go quicker that way.”
Nick caps a vial and puts the container in a pouch identical to Olive’s.
“Fine with me. The sooner we finish, the better.”
“Lark and I will start on the other side.” Olive nods to the far side of the
field. “Ready?”
“I am.” I rise to my feet, happy for the reprieve from crouching. “I’m
following you.”
At the end of the field, we wade through the plants, checking for oozing
black oil on the ground. A weird murmuring hum seems to come from the
stalks, as if the eyril’s either greeting me or warning me away.
The humming infiltrates my body, tugging at me with an invisible line.
My surroundings dim as the line pulls me forward, toward the vibrant stalks
that undulate in the breeze.
The murmuring grows louder.
“Hey guys, do you hear…”
The words die in my throat once I realize I’m alone.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Sixteen

Straining to pick up on the odd hum again, I stand still. But the sound has
disappeared. Did I imagine the music? Or was that noise just the wind
whistling through the stalks?
Awesome. As if eyril harvesting isn’t daunting enough without my
imagination playing tricks on me.
Speeding up, I hurry to rejoin Olive.
In a squat next to an eyril plant, she lifts her face to mine. “You’re just
in time. This one’s ready to harvest.”
Crouching beside her, I dig with the spade, careful not to butcher the
plant.
In the short time I’ve been at Flighthaven, I’ve grown to cherish Olive’s
friendship. I think I can consider her a friend. If my mother knew one of the
recruits in my flight unit came from a family of Kamor sympathizers,
though, she’d have a stroke. She’s never cared for Kamor and despises
Tirene, often telling me tales of the winged brutes who killed my father.
Her stories of Tirenese attacks on our kingdom—and their subsequent
atrocities that included slaughtering men, women, and children—gave
Leesa and me nightmares when we were younger. Much of what my mother
claimed seems more myth than reality, since our race would have died out if
the Tirenese had murdered everyone. Her tales about Tirenese dragoncallers
are also hard to believe.
 How could anyone control a dragon with their mind and convince the
beasts to attack others during a war? If that were possible, the Tirenese
would have annihilated all their enemies. Yet, here we are.
But as much as I’ve been taught to hate and fear those who are different,
deep in my heart, I know that mindset is wrong. Still, I can’t help my
loathing of the Tirenese for taking my father from us all those years ago.
Olive taps my shoulder. “I hope it’s a good one.”
I blink. “What?”
“Your daydream.” She chuckles. “I hope whatever you were dreaming
about was good.”
“Not dreaming. Just lost in thought.” I hand her the syringe of oil so she
can fill the vial in her hand. “Sorry about that.”
“No need to apologize. Just don’t let Narrton see you idle.” She nods at
the instructor, who’s now patrolling the field.
“Axton, Holte, quit dragging your feet.” Narrton adds an imperious sniff
to his pissy comment. “Pendrick and Rummon have filled a lot more vials.”
“Sorry, sir.” I get back to work, thankful when Narrton returns to his
shade tree.
With Nick and Abel nearby now, I can overhear their conversation.
Apparently, they’re spending their time telling dick jokes and laughing
uproariously.
Olive and I share a good gods glance.
Unfazed by our less-than-encouraging response, Nick launches into
another joke. “Did you hear about⁠—”
“I think you should save the humor for your girlfriend.” Abel brushes
off an eyril bulb like he’s been doing it for years. “Wouldn’t want you to
wear them out on us.”
“She appreciates my jokes, unlike you three,” Nick snarks. “Among
other things.”
Abel clucks his tongue. “Are you sure she isn’t lying to spare your
delicate ego?”
Nick’s scowl returns. “I’m sure.”
As Abel continues ribbing Nick about his love life, I address Olive.
“Does your family write you often?”
“My parents do.” Her eyes brighten then dull. “I wish my cousins
would, though. They live in Kamor. My mom’s side of the family split off
several generations ago, and half moved there. I know I’m supposed to
despise them, but I can’t. They’re family.”
My heart squeezes. If I were in Olive’s situation and Leesa moved, I’d
feel the same way. “I understand.”
She sighs. “I haven’t heard from them in a long time, even though I
write. I hope they’re all right.”
“Maybe they’re just busy.”
“I suppose that’s possible.” She grows thoughtful, then shrugs. “Have
you gotten any letters from home?”
“Not yet.”
When I straighten to stretch my spine, dizziness spins my head like one
of those twisting, path-flattening storms. My legs tremble, and I sink to the
dirt to avoid my knees buckling. Stupid weak spells. I keep hoping they’ll
vanish as my body grows stronger, but that hasn’t happened yet.
A shadow blots the sun. Something grumbles overhead.
Clouds? A coming storm?
Using my hand to shade my eyes, I glance up and freeze.
An enormous black dragon glides across the sky. Alicorns trail the
beast, arranged in groups of four.
I watch, a muted emotion tingling within, pulsing through my veins to
my fingertips and toes. Joy…or maybe freedom. As the dragon soars, I can
almost picture the sweeping view from the air. Flying over crashing
waves…dipping close enough for the spray from those swells to dampen
my face…coasting up toward the sun to dry my scales.
No hint of my fear of flying exists as I marvel. Just a yearning in my
chest.
“I wonder what it’s like to fly.”
Olive’s voice shakes me from the strange vision. The dragon swoops
lower and dips the wing closest to us, revealing a rider with bronze skin and
a shock of wavy black hair. Instructor Thorne’s gaze locks on mine. The
joyful sensation vanishes, replaced by a shiver of awareness.
He lifts one dark eyebrow, a question in his eyes. Wait. Does he know
it’s me under the mask and protective gear?
Before I can do anything stupid, like wave or stick out my tongue, he
guides the dragon higher until they become a small dot in the distance, the
alicorns following in their wake.
 By the time we finish filling our quota of vials, my back aches, my
quads burn, and sweat dampens my entire body. We deposit our vials and
gear and trudge toward the mess hall for dinner.
Fatigue quiets me as I fork roasted potatoes and rosemary-seasoned fish
into my mouth. My weak spell in the field reminds me that I need to solve
the mystery of Leesa’s whereabouts sooner rather than later. If my body
gives out, they’ll ship me off to Forthaven or somewhere potentially less
desirable, and I’ll lose my chance. I need to flip through Leesa’s notebooks.
I still want to search Elijah’s room, too, but need a plan. It won’t go well for
me if I’m caught. Thinking of Elijah makes me remember his buddy’s
strange comment about Leesa and wings.
Beside me, Abel trades good-natured barbs with Nick. Theo sits with
them, tossing in his two cents every now and then. When Elijah saunters in
he stops mid-sentence and hisses. “That dirty bastard.”
Olive’s head pops up. “Who? Where?”
“Durand. That fucker stole my clean tunic again.”
Snorting, I watch Elijah stroll toward the food, relieved by his lack of
attention. “How can you tell? All our uniforms look the same.”
Theo tosses his fork down with a huff. “Look at how tight it is. If he
busts that tunic at the seams, I’m gonna be pissed. Worst roommate ever.”
“You and Elijah are roommates?”
“Yup. Lucky me.” Theo mimes stabbing himself with a dagger. “I go
out of my way to spend my free time anywhere but here. I can only tolerate
him in small doses.”
An idea sparks. “So, if I were to say that I wanted to search his room for
evidence of Leesa’s disappearance, you’d be willing to help?”
Nick’s brow furrows. He exchanges a glance with Abel. “I’m not sure
that’s a good idea. Entering another student’s room without permission
violates⁠—”
“I’d love to help,” Theo cuts in, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
“Nothing would please my petty little heart more than pulling one over on
that shithead.”
I side-eye him. “And you want to help me find my sister.”
He waves a hand. “Oh, of course. That goes without saying. Just tell me
when and how, and I’ll be there.”
“Thanks. You’re the best.”
Theo grins, a faint hint of pink coloring his cheeks.
 Ignoring Nick’s frown, I address the table. “Does anyone know why
there are rumors claiming Leesa ran off with a Tirenese soldier? Someone
made a dirty comment about how she had a thing for wings, and I couldn’t
tell if it was just the product of a pathetic mind or if something prompted
it.”
Abel shakes his head. “Sorry, no idea. I’d chalk it up to the pathetic
mind.”
Nick grunts, obviously still unhappy with my plan to search Elijah’s
room.
In agreeing with Abel, Theo and Olive squash that hope like a trodden
grape.
“It’s because of that book she was obsessively reading the last week she
was here.” Helene plops onto the bench beside Theo. All five of us stare.
“What? I can’t help it if the lot of you are as observant as blind gophers
with punctured eardrums.”
Theo’s eyebrows raise. “That was oddly specific. Also, you can’t blame
us for being shocked when you constantly whine about how your
roommates are beneath your notice. No offense, Olive.”
Unperturbed, Olive finishes chewing a bite of roll and shrugs. “None
taken. I know that underneath that tough exterior, Helene really wants to be
my best friend.”
“In your dreams,” is what I think Helene mutters, but I don’t care. I lean
over the table, excitement bubbling beneath my skin.
“Which book?”
Helene heaves a loud sigh, as if bothered by my question. “The one
about Tirene, obviously. There were illustrations, and Mark caught her
looking at one of a Tirenese man with his wings extended.”
The bubbling sensation expands, leading to a jitter I try to expel by
jiggling my leg. Tirenese. Why would Leesa be so engrossed in a book
about the Tirenese? At home, Mother and I used to tease her that, for
someone who wanted to be a dragonrider so badly, she had little interest in
reading about other countries or studying maps. I suppose one of her classes
might be responsible for triggering her interest, but part of me is convinced
this is a clue.
“Any chance you know the title?”
Helene rolls her eyes and dabs her mouth with her napkin. “Why, so you
can get labeled as a Tirene lover too? Not that I care,” she tacks on with
haste, as if worried I might misinterpret. “And I’m not in charge of
remembering all the titles people borrow from the library. It was something
about the ancient history of Tirene and their legends. Now, leave me alone.”
Surprised she shared as much as she did, I happily oblige, refraining
from pointing out that no one forced her to sit with us while jumping to my
feet. “See you back at the room, Olive. Goodnight, everyone else.”
I hustle outside, hoping I can get to the library before the doors close.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Seventeen

According to my map, the library resides on the far end of the building
housing the auditoriums. There, I discover a small, dim space filled with
dark shelves. The gray-haired librarian sorting through books behind the
counter offers me a terse greeting and informs me the library will be closing
in ten minutes. He directs me to the history section in the back corner.
Plenty of books on Aclaris history line the shelves, but volumes on Kamor
or Tirene are scarce, and none have a title close to the one Helene
mentioned. Disappointed, I grab a slim volume on Tirenese history and
focus my attention on hunting for a book with a protective cover, one large
enough to cover Leesa’s notebooks. While I trust Olive not to report me to
Bigley for breaking into storage and digging through Leesa’s possessions,
Helene is another story. Although she’s stopped hassling me as much as she
did the first day, she still might delight in landing me in hot water with the
commander.
When I present the books, the gray-haired librarian pins me with a
suspicious glare. “There’s no cooking in the dorms.”
Okay. Not exactly sure how to respond to that. “I bet there’s no cooking
in the library either.”
His glare deepens as he gestures to the book on top. Wrinkling my brow,
I glance down. I was so worried about picking the right size, I never
checked the title. One Hundred Eel Recipes to Delight Your Family.
 Gross. Even the thought of forcing down slippery bits of eel rolls my
stomach. “I promise, I’m not planning on cooking eels in the dorms or
anywhere else. That’s actually not the book I meant to grab.” I need a book
that won’t draw unwanted attention, and I’m guessing a random cookbook
about eels achieves the exact opposite.
Quickly, I trade it for one about the history of Flighthaven and return to
the counter. “I was wondering, do you have a book on Ancient Tirenese
History and Legends?”
The librarian shuffles to a box on the counter, lifts the lid, and begins
flipping through the papers inside. “I do, but another fledgling already
borrowed it. They missed the return deadline. I’ll have to send a notice…
oh.” With a glum expression, he taps the paper with his pointer finger.
“Something wrong?”
“Yes. The student who borrowed this book is no longer with us.
Hopefully it will be returned once they finish inspecting her belongings, but
until then, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Thanks, anyway.”
Helene wasn’t lying. Leesa did have this book. I already know it’s not in
the box with the rest of her possessions, so where could it possibly be?
Back at the room, I grab my shower supplies and hurry to the communal
bathing chamber. The two fledglings I overheard gossiping about my
altercation with Elijah are already there. They shoot me curious glances but
don’t say anything as I race through my shower, keeping my dagger within
reach and my ears open for approaching trouble.
On my way back, I pass Helene and Olive heading for the showers. As
usual, Helene walks several paces ahead of Olive, spine stiff like someone
shoved a metal rod down her back. Olive screws up her eyes and sticks out
her tongue as she trails her.
Smiling, I hustle into our room, put away my supplies, hang my towel
to dry, and then grope under the bed for Leesa’s notebooks. I pull one out,
remove the protector cover for the Flighthaven history book, and place the
disguise over the notebook, then shove the Flighthaven book under the bed.
Mission complete. Now to see if Leesa’s notebooks contain anything
helpful.
I settle on the bed and begin to read. My heart cramps at the sight of my
sister’s familiar, messy scrawl. The notes start with history, and my pace
slows in spots where Leesa’s handwriting becomes difficult to decipher.
Helene walks in and spares me a passing glance before retreating to her side
of the room.
“Decide not to follow in your sister’s footsteps by choosing a patriotic
book instead?”
Her voice startles me. Every other night she’s ignored me, so I’m not
sure why she’s decided to break the trend. “Can’t I be interested in more
than one thing?” Just not eel recipes. “The book Leesa was reading was
never returned to the library.”
Helene closes her armoire door and plumps her pillow. “Doesn’t shock
me. She was weird about that book. Wouldn’t surprise me if she hid it
somewhere so no one else could grab it.”
Brain spinning, I stare at Helene. Leesa did like to hide stuff at home.
Usually personal things, like a journal or special necklace that she didn’t
want me to wear. It became a game of sorts, with her finding new hiding
spots and me hunting them down. How does Helene know that, though?
Helene opens her own book and refuses to meet my eye. I don’t know
what to make of her words. Maybe my snobby roommate knew Leesa better
than she let on.
Olive flounces into the room, tosses her supplies on the floor, and flops
across her bed. “Oh my gods, I’m so beat. I feel like I could sleep for three
days straight.”
Maybe it’s the power of suggestion, but as soon as she says she’s tired,
my body demands sleep and my eyelids grow heavy. I close the notebook
and set it on the floor on the far side of my bed, away from prying eyes.
As I’m drifting off, I review my list of things to do. I need to search
Elijah’s room. Finish looking through Leesa’s notebooks. Try to hunt down
the missing book on Tirene. And there’s a fourth thing…dragons! Torno
mentioned Leesa’s dragon fascination. I have to figure out how to get closer
to them. I doubt I’ll stumble upon any earth-shattering discoveries, but after
Thorne’s odd comment, I’m already curious about them.
My mind drifts. Soon, I’m floating. Some invisible entity stalks me, but
each time I twist around to see what it is, oily black smoke hides whatever’s
there.
My breath catches.
Just as those inky plumes lick the air close to me, I peer ahead and the
monster—person?—materializes again, but in my peripheral vision.
Trembling, I struggle to remain mounted on Zephyr.
 “Fly!” I prod him with my boots.
He whizzes through the stalks, despite their thick barrier.
Torn leaves shoot up around me. Stalks topple over, wrapping around
my legs and yanking to pull me off Zephyr.
I gasp.
A murderous screech sounds.
The pursuer behind us races closer, reaching out with inky, sinuous
tentacles. Its shriek shakes the stalks and ground, and as the entity draws
closer, frigid fear pours over me, holding me captive.
Ziva, save me!
I direct Zephyr to fly toward the sun.
The tendrils disappear, casting the world into impenetrable darkness.
More screeching—louder this time. The universe shudders around us.
Somewhere in the distance, Leesa screams.
The dark, oily smoke returns, swamping me in a black cloud. The entity
slithers up my nose. Into my mouth. Slides down my throat and oozes
through my insides, replacing my blood with foul slime. Agony streaks
through my veins until I all but disappear. Until all that remains of me is
desperation.
No more.
Zephyr bucks, tossing me from the saddle like when my father died.
I plunge toward the pulsing, humming morass, but this time, as I fall,
fear mixes with stark relief.
No more. No more.
My shrieks fill the air. In the distance, a dragon roars.
Before I crash into the ground, I wake with a jerk, sweat streaming
between my breasts. The roar echoes in my ears, and I’m shivering so hard
that the bed shakes. Ever-lights flash on showing Olive and Helene on their
feet, peering out the window, and I realize it’s not me. The entire building
quakes like a giant reached down to rattle the foundation between his fists.
In the hall, doors open and shut. Boots pound the wooden floor, and
confused voices float past.
“What’s happening?” I haul myself out of bed and grab my boots. After
the shower incident, I started sleeping in the Flighthaven issued sleepwear,
and the lightweight tunic and pants are decent enough to be seen in mixed
company.
 Olive steps away from the window. “Not sure, but I think something
may have crashed outside.”
I open the door. “Are you sure it wasn’t an earthquake? What could
crash with so much force?”
“Something big,” Helene says as we file into the hall.
Following the clusters of other fledglings, we rush down the stairs and
out the front door into the cool night air. Shouting instructors and staff dash
toward a spot on the far side of the training field, their glowing ever-light
lanterns and torches marking the path. A pit opens in my stomach, growing
the closer we get to the site of the disturbance, and my head pounds as if
someone cracked my skull with a hammer, pried it open, and shoved pain
inside.
My legs wobble, and I stumble. Before my eyes, my surroundings
waiver. Olive hooks my elbow before I go down and steadies me on my
feet.
“Thanks.” If not for her quick reflexes, that weak spell would have
taken me to the ground.
“No problem.”
She keeps hold of my arm, which I’m thankful for. The dizziness
lingers, and the pain in my head won’t go away. The people ahead of us
start to slow. Gasps and sobs fill the air. I wonder if I’m hallucinating,
because a dark mountain rises in front of them, and I know for a fact the
cliffs are farther back.
Then the shape becomes clearer, and my lungs quit working. Not a
mountain at all. It’s a⁠—
“Dragon,” Olive whispers.
A dragon. A dragon crashed in our training field. But how? Why?
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m pushing between fledglings,
overcome with a sudden, sharp need to get closer. Ignoring the dirty
glances, I keep shoving my way forward until I break free of the crowd of
students. A grim Torno hovers over to one side, conversing with Celeste
Dawson, my weapons instructor. Everyone is just standing around, doing
nothing, and I don’t understand why. Can’t they see the dragon’s suffering?
Frantic, I glance around wildly for someone who can help and latch
onto a familiar, tall figure stalking across the grass. With a muffled sob, I
sprint over to him and grasp his sleeve. “Please! You have to put him out of
his misery. Can’t they tell that he’s hurting?”
 Thorne’s eyes widen. I’m shocked when he takes me seriously and
heads straight for the dragon, placing a palm on the beast’s massive head
and waiting several moments before turning to Torno with a bleak
expression. “He’s still alive, but barely. Someone needs to fetch an air
harpoon.”
Torno peers at the dragon’s face. “Oh, but are you sure? If he’s still
alive, maybe we can⁠—”
Thorne stiffens. “No. His legs are crushed, and there’s probably internal
damage.” His attention shifts to Instructor Dawson. “How high up were you
when he started to fall?”
The weapons instructor winces. “High. There’s no possibility that he
doesn’t have internal bleeding. I’m surprised he’s even alive.”
She shudders, and Thorne squeezes her hand. My gaze zeroes in on the
gesture. Is he comforting her? Thorne? My irascible flight instructor
actually knows how to comfort people?
I don’t know why I fixate on their touching hands, but I can’t pry my
eyes away. Maybe I’m going into shock.
Torno pats Dawson’s shoulder. “We’re lucky you’re an air elemental, or
you would be right there with him.”
The instructor’s expression pinches, and she presses her free hand to her
stomach. “Please, don’t remind me. Even with air magic, if I’d timed it
wrong, I’d be dead.”
Finally, Thorne releases Dawson. “The air harpoon?”
Torno snaps her fingers. “Oh, right. Let me see who can help get that.”
The vice commander glances from face to face as if struggling to decide
who to trust with the task, causing Thorne to growl.
“Fuck this.”
Prowling back to the dragon, he strokes the scales between the animal’s
eyes, sorrow etched into his features. He leans over to whisper in its ear.
When he finishes, he bows his head, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
A moment later, the biggest ice spear I’ve ever seen materializes in his right
hand. Without hesitation, he shoves the tip through the dragon’s eye and
deep into its brain.
Ignoring the startled whispers, Thorne checks to ensure the dragon’s
heart stopped. His chest lifts and lowers, and he bows his head once more
before turning away. He stalks back toward me. The speculative gleam in
his eye when his gaze lands on my face shifts into a glare as he addresses
the crowd. “For all students, the show is over. Get the fuck back to your
rooms. Now. If I see any of your ugly mugs in twenty seconds, you’ll be
facing whatever punishment I dream up for the next three weeks. Go!”
All around me, fledglings spin around and flee. I have the misfortune of
overhearing a female student comment that getting punished by Thorne
might be fun, though I notice she still takes off with the others. I’m the only
one stupid enough to disregard his threat and stay in place.
His gaze returns to me. Strain flattens his lips, and his broad shoulders
round a little. His attention shifts to my cheeks, and when I raise my fingers
to touch them, they come away wet.
“Thank you.” The hoarse whisper drags past the knot in my throat.
Emotion flares in his eyes, and he bows his head, reminding me of how
he offered the same gesture to the dragon. A gesture of respect, maybe?
When he straightens, a mocking smirk tugs at his lips. He makes a
shooing motion with his hands. “Five seconds before you’re stuck with me
for even longer.”
Not needing a second reminder, I whirl and flee for the dorms.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Eighteen

The following morning, I wait outside the stable as dawn creeps across the
sky, the rising sun banishing the darkness away to herald a new day. Out
here, I spot no signs of life. No alicorns are out in the paddock yet, and no
gorgeous, moody instructor.
Leaning against the wall, I yawn and rub my eyes. Last night was rough
after the dragon died. I slept fitfully, waking from more than one dream
with a start, consumed with an inexplicable sense of doom. Morning came
far too quickly.
Moments pass, then minutes…still no Instructor Thorne.
Did he forget our lesson? Oversleep?
That bastard better not be sleeping in after I hauled myself out of bed. If
he stood me up, I’m marching straight back to my room to nap before
breakfast.
My mind conjures an image of his face from last night and how
sorrowful he appeared prior to ending the dragon’s suffering with an icy
spear, and my ire drains. If anyone deserves to sleep in this morning, it’s
him. Well, him and Instructor Dawson. I remember how he squeezed her
hand and wonder if they slept in together. My stomach churns, and my
irritability rises once more.
An alicorn whinnies, and someone murmurs in response. I take a
tentative step inside the stable and halt, my heartbeat accelerating.
Thorne’s already here.
 Instead of his standard uniform top, Thorne’s sporting a thin white shirt
that fits snug to his body and accentuates the impressive muscles hidden
underneath. His back is toward me, so he doesn’t see me as I edge closer
and watch him bend over to run a hand down an alicorn’s leg. The dark bay
creature Nick rode in class the other day lifts the limb Thorne touches,
allowing him to cradle her massive hoof in his palm.
Mouth dry, I get an intimate view of my instructor’s very hard,
incredibly fine, ass.
Stop staring. Look at something else. Anything but that.
My attention remains glued to the current view. Yet again, I wonder if
all that seclusion during my formative years turned me into a lust-addled
fool who fixates on the nearest hot guy. Olive and Leesa would both snicker
and tell me there’s nothing wrong with that, but I disagree. Something is
very wrong when I can’t stop myself from ogling my flight instructor.
Keep it up, and I’ll need to classify ogling as my new hobby.
With more effort than I’d care to admit, I wrestle my attention off my
instructor’s backside and focus on the metal tool in his hand. It has a dull
hook on one side and small brush on the other, and Thorne uses the hooked
end to pick at a foreign object lodged in the hoof.
The alicorn jerks her head, tensing as the metal hits a sensitive spot.
“Easy, Solara. You’ll feel better once the rock is out.”
As if soothed by his throaty rumble, Solara stills, allowing Thorne to
gently pry out the stone. He frees the offending rock and tucks it into his
pocket before easing the alicorn’s hoof to the ground and straightening to
rub her neck.
The alicorn nickers, nudging his shoulder with her muzzle.
I’m rooted to the spot, transfixed by this peek at my crabby instructor’s
tender side. A side that, until this moment, I didn’t realize existed. My heart
softens, and I chastise it for acting like such a wimp. So what if Thorne
treats animals with kindness and care? One admirable trait doesn’t excuse
all those times he behaved like an utter jackhole.
I swallow, struck by the odd sense that I’m intruding on something
personal. “Good morning.”
Thorne takes his sweet time turning around. When he does, my breath
catches. The back view in the white shirt was nice, but the front view steals
the show. The garment hugs his chest like it was specially tailored for him,
highlighting every dip and ridge.
 My gaze slides to the upper part of his stomach. Coasts a little lower.
Just as it reaches the waistband of his trousers, Thorne clears his throat. My
head snaps up, and warmth blooms in my cheeks.
Kill me now. Flighthaven’s grumpiest instructor caught me checking out
his package.
A hint of amusement crooks up his lips, but that hint of mirth vanishes
in the blink of an eye. Wearing an unreadable expression, he watches me
without speaking. His intense eyes never leave my face. The scrutiny makes
me squirm, and my blush grows, traveling to my neck.
As the moments stretch on without him uttering a word, my
embarrassment morphs into irritation.
“What, are you giving me the silent treatment now? Very mature. Use
your words, please.”
“I’ll give you three.” He raises his right fist and extends a single finger.
“Pitchfork.” Another finger joins the first. “Stalls.” A third finger goes up.
“Now.”
He growls the last word, and I wonder what in the hells I’ve done to
piss him off this time.
Honestly, I should find this return to his usual asshole self a relief.
Witnessing his softer side is too confusing by far…and tempting enough to
be dangerous. Especially after last night.
The reminder of the dying dragon kills the snarky reply on the tip of my
tongue. I’m too tired and sad to argue, and I bet he is too. No sense in
aggravating him further. Instead, I answer with a nod.
I set to work, starting with Solara’s empty stall. The pitchfork rubs
against my skin, irritating the blisters that already dot my fingers and palms.
I do my best to ignore the pain that grows with each stall. I’m on the fourth
stall when a splinter in the wooden handle snags and tears a blister. The
burst of red-hot pain makes me suck in a sharp breath and drop the
offending tool.
“Let me see it.”
I flinch, glancing up to find myself face-to-face with my instructor. “See
what?”
“Your hand.” He grasps my right wrist and inspects my palm with the
same gentleness he used on Solara. “Why didn’t you tell me your hands
look like they got in a fight with a meat grinder?”
 I shrug, my temper flaring. “I don’t know what a fight with a meat
grinder looks like. Besides, isn’t this part of why you have me working
here? To teach me a lesson? To make a high-and-mighty noble suffer
through hard labor? I figured any wounds I incurred would make you
happy.”
His breath hisses between his teeth. “No, Duchess. The sight of your
bleeding hands doesn’t make me happy at all. And I already told you that
mucking out the stable isn’t a punishment.”
“Why have me do it then?”
“Because I’m hoping that repeated exposure to alicorns in a safe setting
will help you get over your fear faster!” He pinches the bridge of his nose
and tips his head back as if struggling to regain control. “I know someone
who used to be terrified of horses. One reared up and kicked him in the
chest as a child, and after that, he refused to go near them. When he decided
he needed to get over his fear, we started him out by watching horses from a
distance. Once he was comfortable with that, we shrank the distance until
he was able to touch them without panicking. Eventually, he was able to
ride.”
Chagrined, I rub the back of my neck. “Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.”
My conscience stings. “Now I feel like an ass.” He lifts his eyebrows as
if in agreement but says nothing. “Do you really think it will work?”
He shrugs. “Won’t know until we try.”
“Wait…you said your friend started from a distance. Why do I have to
touch and mount the alicorns already if slower is better?”
“Because, Duchess, we don’t have the luxury of time. You can only skip
class so often before your classmates start to suspect, and if you think the
hazing is bad now, imagine how much worse it would get if someone like
Durand found out. More importantly, I’m trying to get you ready to fly for
the upcoming trial, which can be dangerous for even the most skilled flyers.
So the quicker you get over your fear, the less likely we’ll be scraping you
off the ground.”
My eyes widen. During our meeting, Bigley mentioned an upcoming
trial. I can’t believe I forgot. “When is it again?”
“A little less than five weeks.”
Why his answer disappoints me is anyone’s guess. I already knew.
Bigley told me. Only, five weeks will be cutting things close. What happens
if I haven’t found Leesa by then? Will I leave anyway to avoid the trial? Or
will I stay and pray that no one has to scrape my broken body off the
ground, as Thorne so delightfully detailed.
“Let me get a look at your hands.”
“They’re fine.”
He peels back my fingers to inspect the raw flesh. “They’re not fine.”
“I’ll find some gloves for tomorrow.” I tug my hand free from his grip.
“I’d better finish.”
“You’re the most stubborn…”
He stalks out of the stall. I can’t make out the rest of his tirade, but I’m
pretty certain he swears a few times.
Shaking my head, I pick up the pitchfork, wincing as I resume cleaning.
Moments later, footsteps thud in the aisle, and Thorne reappears beside me.
“Put that down.”
His barked command has me bristling. Ignoring him, I continue to
scoop the soiled straw.
“I see that listening isn’t one of your strong points.”
Narrowing my eyes, I spin to face him. “I see that using manners isn’t
one of yours.”
His jaw flexes. “Put that down…please.”
The please sounds strangled, like someone wrenched it out of him
against his will. I wonder when he last used the word. Taking my time, I
make a show of propping the pitchfork against the wall. “Did that hurt?”
Nostrils flaring, Thorne closes the distance between us. My nerves
shriek a warning, and I back away until I bump into the wall.
“Five minutes.” His low voice is menacing as he cages me by planting
his forearms on either side of my head. He leans close to my ear and
whispers. “I just need you to shut that annoying mouth of yours for five
minutes. Think you can handle that?”
He’s standing so close that his minty breath grazes my skin. The heady
scent of leather and soap assaults my senses, and I can feel his body heat.
This little display of dominance should frighten me or piss me off. What it
shouldn’t do is tempt me to push off the wall until our bodies press together
and drag his head down until our lips touch. It shouldn’t generate an
explosion of tingles all over my skin or ignite a fire deep in my belly.
My body needs to quit rebelling against my brain.
 Tension crackles between us. I start to reply, think the better of it, and
nod instead. He steps back, and an initial flare of disappointment gives way
to relief. Better that he moves now. Before he realizes the effect he has on
me, and I’m forced to spend the rest of my days hiding in a deep hole.
“Good.” He reaches into his pocket, produces a small tin, and pops off
the lid. “Hold out your hand.”
I hesitate. After my attitude, I’m half afraid he’ll rub salt in my wounds.
“Why?”
Heaving a sigh, he scoops out a dollop of some kind of clear ointment,
crooking his finger. “It hasn’t even been a minute.”
“Sorry.” The word is a whisper. Deciding I’d better obey, lest he lose his
patience, I hold out my palm.
He rubs the salve on a blister, and I jerk. Hells. It’s like someone seared
my palm with a hot poker. “Keep still. It’ll feel better in a second.”
While he tends to my hands, I study his face. His brow furrows in
concentration as he works. This close, the scar on his jawline is clearly
visible, the white streak spanning about two inches. I wonder what caused
the injury. A dagger? A claw?
A lock of loose hair falls in his face, and my greasy palms are the only
thing stopping me from tucking the wayward strand behind his ear.
He reaches into his pocket again, pulling out gauze and bandages. “It’s
rude to stare.”
My jaw drops. How can he tell? He’s not even looking at me. My gaze
dips to watch him bandage me with efficient yet surprisingly gentle hands.
“Have you dressed a lot of wounds? You seem to know what you’re doing.”
He hesitates for so long, I’m surprised when he responds. “I spent a lot
of time traveling with soldiers, sometimes in remote areas. There wasn’t
always a medic nearby, so I learned how to treat an assortment of wounds.”
“Do you ever miss your home?”
His throat bobs with the force of his swallow. “I do. I’ve been away a
long time, and I can’t help but wonder how much I’ve missed over the years
or how things have changed.”
My heart aches over the yearning in his voice. “Do you think you’ll get
a chance to go back again soon?”
He hesitates. His gaze darts to my face before returning to the task. “I
hope so.”
I place a bandaged palm on his arm and squeeze. “I hope so too.”
 His eyes linger on my hand. His harsh features soften for an instant
before a shadow crosses his expression. Straightening, he steps away again.
“Finished.”
The extra distance between us loosens the tightness in my lungs a little
more. I examine his handiwork and realize my hands no longer throb.
“Thank you for the ointment. I’ll bring gloves tomorrow.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. I should have remembered to
provide gloves to begin with. That’s enough cleaning for today. Your hands
need a break.”
For once, his scowl doesn’t bother me. I don’t think it’s directed at me.
We reach the end of the aisle, where a saddled Zephyr waits.
“Ready?” Thorne asks.
I regard the alicorn like he might explode at any moment. “No, but let’s
do it anyway.”
My flight instructor gives his approval. “Good answer.”
His big hands circle my waist and hoist me into the saddle with the
same kind of effortlessness I’d expend to lift a cat. I tense and grab for the
reins. Reaching for the lead, he unties Zephyr. As the alicorn takes slow,
steady steps to match Thorne’s pace, I concentrate on breathing.
Stay calm. Nothing bad will happen. You can do this.
Thorne leads Zephyr through the stable, toward one of the paddocks.
“So far, so good?”
“Sure. If your definition of good is me only considering flinging myself
from the saddle every few seconds rather than every single one.”
“That’s still progress.”
“Right.” I search for a distraction. Anything to keep my mind off the
giant winged beast prancing beneath me. “That dragon last night. What do
you think happened? Was he old? I thought dragons usually lived hundreds
of years.”
I regret broaching the topic when his expression darkens. “They do, and
he wasn’t old. He wasn’t a juvenile, but I bet he wasn’t fifty years yet.”
“Was he sick? Are dragons susceptible to diseases?”
Thorne shakes his head. “Not usually, no. Something about their high
body temperature seems to prevent most illnesses from taking hold.”
That eases the tension in my shoulders a little. At least I don’t need to
worry that sickness might spread to the other dragons in the aerie. “What,
then? What could cause a dragon to drop out of the sky?” Which, by the
way, has done no wonders for my fear of flying.
Staring straight ahead, he rubs his chest. “That’s a very good question. I
only wish I had an answer.”
Me too. The memory of that huge body, unmoving in the crater formed
by the crash, cleaves my heart into pieces. Seeing any animal die like that
would be upsetting, but somehow the fact that it was a dragon makes the
pain so much worse. My extreme reaction seems odd, until I contemplate
how the majestic dragons soar through the sky, and how their intelligence
supposedly rivals a human’s. They mate for life, too, and take great care in
raising their young.
I’m starting to understand Leesa’s obsession with them better. Maybe
dragon lovers run in the Axton family.
“How did you know?”
The question pulls me from my reverie. “How did I know what?”
“That the dragon was still alive and suffering?”
“I mean, wasn’t it obvious?”
He pats Zephyr’s muzzle. “Clearly not to everyone, or else they
wouldn’t have stood around with their thumbs up their asses.”
I frown, mentally reviewing the events. I ran up. Laid eyes on the
dragon. Knew he was still hanging on. “I’m not sure. There was a lot going
on, and with all the pounding in my head and the mass confusion, I can’t
remember exactly what happened. I probably saw his chest rise or his eyelid
twitch or something.”
He considers that for a moment, then nods. “Probably.”
His tone strikes me as a little off, but whatever. I’m too busy
congratulating myself over the discovery that the distraction worked. We
walked this entire time without me freaking out. Hope rises that I’ll get the
hang of this soon.
Powerful wings start to unfurl beneath me, and my newfound
confidence dissolves. I freeze and squeeze my thighs around the alicorn’s
sides. “Holy hells. What’s he doing?”
“Take it easy. He’s just stretching his wings. I’ve got the lead.”
“Are you sure?” My voice rises by several octaves. “That felt a lot like
flapping. Not just stretching.”
Zephyr’s silvery wings unfurl the rest of the way, the gleaming feathers
catching the breeze and fluttering.
 Panic claws through me.
He’s going to take off.
Without thinking, I fling my right leg over the saddle and jump.
Thorne catches me, grunting as our bodies make contact. Terror
transforms into prickly awareness when I register the sensation of my
breasts mashed against his firm chest. As his warmth surrounds me, my
stomach clenches. Lust coils in my belly and steals my breath. Time stands
still as his pupils dilate, the silence between us seething with unnamed
desires. The tension binds us until Thorne snaps free with a jerk of his head.
He drops me like a flaming stick and puts space between us. Angling his
face toward the ground, he walks Zephyr in a circle. “So are you ever
planning on telling me why you’re so petrified of alicorns?”
Huh. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say my flight instructor’s the one
desperate for a distraction now. I nibble my lower lip, debating. I could tell
him to mind his own business but that seems a little ungrateful. Annoying
or not, he is helping me, and despite Mother’s paranoia, there’s no real
reason to keep the event that triggered my fear a secret.
“When I was four, I was riding an alicorn with my father when we were
attacked. My father was wounded, and I fell off the alicorn and almost died.
My father saved me but succumbed to his wounds later.”
He stops abruptly, causing Zephyr to toss his head. “I’d be careful about
who you share that story with. Who told you that? Your mother?”
“Partly, but I also remember bits and pieces. My father’s laugh….then
screams. Fire. Falling.”
I shiver, goose bumps erupting over my skin like clouds blotting out the
sun.
“Do you know what prompted the attack?”
My upper lip curls. “Nothing except for the brutality of the Tirenese. We
were only one of several attacks that day, half of them on children. I try to
keep an open mind toward Kamor and other kingdoms that come into
conflict with Aclaris, but Tirene could go up in flames and I wouldn’t shed
a single tear.”
I can tell my answer displeases him by how his jaw tics, but I don’t
care. If he wants to judge me for loathing the kingdom responsible for my
father’s death, he can be my guest. I don’t owe him or the Tirenese a damn
thing.
 He clicks his tongue and walks Zephyr toward the stable. “That’s
enough for today.” When I try to trail his moody ass, he waves me off.
“You’re free to go. I’ll return Zephyr to his stall.”
I watch him retreat for a few moments before walking away, cursing
flight instructors with moods that change faster than a threatened
chameleon changes colors. Whenever we’re forced to spend time in each
other’s company, the highs and lows I experience in rapid succession give
me whiplash.
Despite his infuriating personality, something draws me too him.
It’s the expression in his eyes when he gazes off into the distance. And
how he seems closer to the animals in his care than any of the other staff.
Beneath that arrogant exterior, Sterling Thorne is lonely. I’d stake a
year’s allowance on it.
Because if there’s one thing I’m an expert on, it’s loneliness.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Nineteen

The moment Olive and I enter the mess hall for breakfast, we know
something’s up. Instead of the usual voices and laughter greeting us, we
walk into a subdued, quiet room brimming with tension.
I lean toward Olive. The abnormal hush makes this feel like a whisper
type of situation. “What’s happening?”
She inclines her head toward a table by the back wall where
Commander Bigley and Vice Commander Torno stand tall and dignified as
they watch yawning fledglings and flyers trickle in. Instructor Dawson
flanks them on one side, Thorne on the other. His wide stance and squared
shoulders appear battle ready, as does the cold stare he directs straight
ahead.
We hurry to fill our plates and claim our usual seats. I’m guessing
they’re here to make an announcement about the dragon, but my
anticipation climbs the longer they go without speaking.
I’m finishing my bowl of fruit when Bigly calls for our attention.
Cutlery pings against plates and chair legs scrape the floor as every student
swivels in his direction.
“As I’m sure everyone is aware by now, Flighthaven experienced a
tragic incident late last night when one of our treasured dragons died. While
Instructor Dawon was riding Raider, he quit responding to her commands.
He fell from the sky and crashed to the Flighthaven grounds. Only quick
thinking on Instructor Dawson’s part, and her affinity for air magic, spared
her life. The impact crushed Raider’s legs and caused internal injuries, so
Instructor Thorne made the difficult call to end his suffering.”
Inadvertently, my gaze skips to Thorne. For a fleeting moment, his eyes
connect with mine before he redirects them so he’s peering straight ahead.
“Our staff is working as fast as possible to cultivate what we can so that
Raider’s death isn’t completely in vain.”
I grimace. Cultivate, as in, strip his body for anything of value, like
dragon scales or blood. Or fat…like the kind used to treat those fireproof
cloaks for magic training purposes. My stomach roils, and I drop my half-
eaten roll onto the plate.
“In the meantime, please avoid the area, and give our staff space to
work. This should go without saying, but any student found attempting to
steal from or deface Raider’s body will suffer severe consequences.”
Bigley’s eagle-eyed gaze sweeps across the mess hall, as if he’s trying to
browbeat potential rulebreakers into compliance. “Vice Commander Torno
and myself, along with other staff, will be conducting interviews with
students pertaining to the incident. Whether Raider’s death was the result of
natural causes or a planned attack by an insider or external forces, we will
get to the bottom of this.”
Whispers spread like wildfire, as do shocked expressions. Everyone in
the room knows external forces is a diplomatic way of saying enemy
kingdoms, and the idea of Tirene or Kamor agents sneaking onto campus to
kill a dragon coats my skin with an invisible layer of dread.
“If any of you know of pertinent information involving the death, you
have a duty to your kingdom to report it immediately. Now, Vice
Commander Torno has a brief announcement, so give her your attention.”
Torno steps forward, her hands clasped behind her back. “Due to last
night’s incident, along with other circumstances beyond our control, we will
be moving up the date of the upcoming trial. It will now take place in two
weeks’ time.”
Gasps and the rise of warring voices fill the mess hall. I glance at Olive
in horror. I never concerned myself with the trial because I expected to be
long gone by the time the event rolled around. Two weeks is cutting things
close, though. Too close. How in the hells will I pass a flyer trial in such a
short time period when I’ve yet to actually fly?
“Quiet, please! I know this comes as an unpleasant surprise, but I have
every confidence in all of you. I know our students will rise to the occasion
in the face of adversity. Between now and then, I recommend that you all
dedicate yourselves to training. My office is open to you anytime. Stop by if
you have questions or need a pep talk.” Is it my imagination, or do her eyes
pause on me when she says that last bit? “Now, finish eating, and head to
your regularly scheduled classes.”
Bigley and Torno file out, followed by Dawson and Thorne. Walking
side by side, they make a gorgeous couple, with her fair skin and blond hair
complimenting his darker complexion. For some reason, the observation
bothers me, and I rub at the sudden burning sensation in my chest.
I try to catch Thorne’s eye as he passes our table, but he never glances
in my direction. My heart sinks. Out of everyone on campus, he alone
knows how well and truly screwed I am if I have to participate in that
cursed trial. Maybe he’s ignoring me on purpose, worried that I’ll see his
pity and panic.
Little does he know, I’m already panicking.
The second the door closes behind him, the mess hall devolves into
pandemonium. Arguments break out among the fledglings about the dragon
and trial. All the excitement and shouting assaults my eardrums,
exacerbating my foul mood.
Olive receives more nasty glowers than usual, an observation that
makes me even grumpier. “Why are so many people glaring at you today?”
Holding up a finger, Olive pops a piece of buttered brown bread into her
mouth and swallows. “This happens anytime something goes wrong and
they’re not sure of the cause. I’m the Kamor sympathizer, so I must be
involved.”
She says this with a shrug, like the fact that people point their fingers at
her whenever something bad happens doesn’t faze her. I don’t know how
she stands it. I want to punch every one of those sneering mouths.
Breakfast’s only saving grace comes when Theo plops down beside me and
whispers in my ear.
“Tonight after dinner work for operation fuck with my roommate?”
“Sounds perfect.” I glance at the door Thorne and Dawson disappeared
through and frown. ‘Do you think Instructor Dawson is pretty?”
Theo’s eyebrows shoot up to meet his hairline. “Pretty? No, I wouldn’t
say she’s pretty.” His follow-up statement squashes my relief like a beetle
beneath a boot. “Dawson is flat-out hot.”
On second thought, I change my mind. Theo needs to go.
 With a wink, he leans over and snatches the rest of Olive’s bread off her
plate while she’s chatting with Abel. Whistling, he saunters away.
Olive nods in response to something Abel says. She reaches for her
bread, her fingers groping the empty plate without success. “What the…
again? Curse you, Theo! You’ll be sorry when I start booby-trapping my
food with wormwort!”
His laughter drifts over his shoulder as he waltzes out the door.
I mock shudder. “Remind me to never mess with your food.”
Once, when I was ten, Cook prepared butterscotch bread pudding,
Leesa’s favorite dessert. That day, my sister, feeling a little greedy, decided
she didn’t want to share. So she came up with the brilliant idea of lacing my
stew with wormwort. A tiny bit of the bitter plant causes minor nausea and
stomach upset, but my sister was unfamiliar with the dosing. She added too
much, and I ended up spending two entire days and nights on the bathing
chamber floor with severe stomach cramps and the runs.
As soon as she realized how awful I felt, Leesa burst into tears and
confessed. Mother yelled about how her rash actions put me in danger. She
forced Leesa to take care of me while I remained ill. Cook was so horrified,
she refused to serve Leesa dessert for two weeks, but I deemed Leesa
chastened enough and snuck her bites of mine when no one was looking.
I’d give anything for Leesa to be sitting here with us.
My chest aches as I stand. Olive’s joking interaction with Theo drew
unwanted attention, and heads swivel as we carry our trays toward the bins.
One particular group whispers and tracks us with keen interest when we
pass, and an alarm bell clangs in my head.
I tug on Olive’s sleeve. “Let’s hurry and get out of here.”
Too slow. On the next step, water blasts me in the face, squirting into
my eyes and temporarily blinding me. Olive’s squeal tells me someone hit
her too. A gust of wind slams into our backs, and we both stumble. Our
plates fly off our trays and shatter on the floor. A second, stronger gust hits
Olive, pushing her to her knees.
I crouch beside her and grab her hand. Blood drips from where a glass
shard pierced her palm. “Are you okay?”
She yanks her hand away. “I’m fine.”
Her wobbling chin belies her words, and my hands curl into fists.
Bastards.
 I straighten and whirl. “Who did this?” Plenty of people snicker and
elbow each other, but no one claims responsibility. “Pretty cowardly,
attacking from behind.”
Mark Levine struts past, sneering. “Not me, but I wish I had. I’m not the
only one who thinks we should start the search for what happened to the
dragon by looking at the traitors in our midst.”
Dropping his tray into the bin, he deliberately grinds his boot into the
glass next to Olive’s knee and kicks the shards at her before leaving. I make
a move to follow, unsure of my plan other than I’m pissed on Olive’s behalf
and want payback, but Olive grabs my tunic to stop me. “Seriously, just
leave it. Chasing after him will only make things worse.”
Only when I notice the wet shimmer in her eyes do I relent. “Fine,” I
huff, “but just so you know, chasing after him and introducing his nose to
my fist would do wonders for my mood.”
The remark prompts a soggy giggle. “Mine too. Another day, maybe.”
“It’s a date.”
Abel and Nick arrive to help us clean up the mess. After we finish and
leave the mess hall, Abel pats Olive on the shoulder. “Don’t listen to
Levine. He’s such a dick that he’ll be lucky if his alicorn doesn’t gore him
to death before the trials.”
I grin. “Thanks, Abel. That heartwarming visual is just what I needed to
make it through the day.”
Olive manages a fragile, anemic smile. “Look at you, turning
bloodthirsty already. Leesa would be proud.” Her face falls. “If it was just
Levine, I wouldn’t care, but he’s not even the one who did it. A lot of
people seemed mad at me this morning over the dragon dying, as if I had
something to do with it. Gallora only knows why I’d want to hurt a
dragon.”
Abel drags a hand down his face. “That’s ridiculous.”
Nick casts a dark glance at the ground. “Maybe, but that’s not going to
stop the rumors from flying.”
Olive slumps. Abel glares in Nick’s direction and wraps his arm around
Olive’s shoulders. “Rumors, schmumors. People will run their mouths for a
day or two, and then everything will die down again like always.”
Nick opens his mouth like he wants to argue but remains silent. During
weapons training, he and Abel stick close to us. I hold my own with the
throwing stars, hitting the target more often than I miss. When we switch to
swords, I manage not to disgrace myself. I have a lot of work to do to catch
up to the rest of the class. No surprise there. The big bombshell, though, is
discovering how much I enjoy working with weapons to improve my skills.
Even in my short time on campus, my progress has become noticeable. I
relish the sweeping sense of fulfillment that rushes through every time I hit
a target closer to the center or manage to block a sword parry that I couldn’t
the day before.
I’m starting to understand the appeal Flighthaven held for Leesa. Not
that I fool myself into believing I belong here.
I’m just not sure I belong back at Castle Axton either.
History passes in a blur, with my head too full of my upcoming caper to
focus on the names of old kings and queens and the dates of skirmishes.
Lunch proves a repeat of breakfast. Lots of conjecture. More ugly glares
cast in Olive’s direction. I try to take a page from her book and ignore them,
but the comments I overhear about the Kamor sympathizer sabotaging and
killing the dragon make the strategy damn hard. With the upcoming trial
hanging like a sharpened axe over my head, I slip out early and head to the
alicorn stable to groom Zephyr. If repeated exposure to alicorns will get me
flying faster, then I’ll make as many trips to the stable as possible. Though I
hope to be gone by the trial, I need to plan for the worst. And I want to give
my all for however long I’m here.
In magic training, I avoid getting cornered by Elijah and Mark by
buddying up with Theo. My fire display is no better than the previous class,
but Theo distracts me from my abysmal performance by informing me of
tonight’s plan. He’ll lure Elijah out with the promise of booze in another
fledgling’s room on a different floor, leaving the door unlocked for me.
Since the rooms are small and come with little to inspect, he estimates that
should give me plenty of time to search.
The chance to potentially learn more about what happened to Leesa
keeps me from taking Resnick’s disappointed expression as he supervises
my subpar magic to heart. Partway through class, Torno shows up. She
observes me, too, but if my performance underwhelms her, she does a better
job of hiding her displeasure.
By dinnertime, Olive’s good spirits have returned. She insists on
helping me sneak into Elijah’s room, so she, Theo, and I sit with our heads
close together and maintain low voices. Partly to keep our plan a secret
from outsiders and partly to prevent Nick from overhearing. His reaction
when the idea arose made his disapproval clear, and not flaunting our rule-
breaking in front of him seems like the respectful thing to do.
My stomach writhes with nerves on the walk back to the dorm. Olive
parts ways with me on the first floor, hooking her arm through Theo’s and
accompanying him to his room as planned. I climb the stairs to the second
floor and head into my own room to wait, perching on the edge of the bed
before hopping up and pacing back and forth. Anxiety wars with
excitement. This could be it. I could find a clue in Elijah’s room that points
to Leesa’s whereabouts.
Or a wrathful Elijah could catch me and use magic to blast me into the
next kingdom…or report me to Bigley. Both of those options sound terrible.
When Helene walks in, I sit down on the bed. Within seconds, I’m up
pacing again.
As she gathers her shower supplies, she studies my erratic behavior
through narrowed eyes. “What’s going on? Why are you doing that?”
Suspicion thickens the air like fog.
“Nothing. Just thinking about something. I think better when I’m
moving.”
Silence. On my next lap, I peek at her face. An unreadable visage clouds
her eyes. “Leesa used to do that too. Not a lot at the beginning, but it
seemed like she was pacing off and on all day that last week. She even
woke me up at night a couple of times.”
I don’t get the sense that Leesa’s pacing angered Helene. If anything,
her tone strikes me as a little wistful. Odd, given her initial animosity
toward Leesa when I arrived.
Again, the thought that Helene knew Leesa better than she lets on runs
through my head. “Do you have any idea what was weighing on her mind?”
Helene startles, like she forgot anyone else was in the room. “What?
No, why would I?”
I frown. “I don’t know, you tell me.”
Scowling, she tugs the tie from her hair and starts unraveling her braid.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
I’m not sure I believe her. Or maybe I’m so desperate for information
on Leesa that I’m determined to find clues where none exist.
Boots pound in the hallway, and Olive bursts into the room. “Okay! It’s
go time—” She spots Helene. “Uh, for the showers. Everybody ready?”
 Helene gapes as Olive bounds over to her shower supplies. The skin
above her nose creases. “You’re both acting weird. You’re up to
something.”
Olive makes a big show of hunting for her soap. “What I’m up to is
getting ready to shower. I don’t think personal hygiene is all that weird, but
you do you.”
Helene’s gaze shifts to me.
“If thinking is weird, then…” I shrug.
Her mouth tightens. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know,
anyway.”
She storms from the room. Olive waits until our roommate’s footsteps
are no longer audible before heaving a relieved sigh. “Thank the gods. I
thought she’d never leave. She just had to go and pick tonight of all nights
to be chatty. You ready?”
No. “I will be. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck! If I don’t hear from you within an hour, I’m sending in a
rescue crew.”
Squaring my shoulders, I head for the door.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twenty

Even though I’m doing nothing wrong—yet—my skin prickles as I walk

down the first-floor hall toward Theo and Elijah’s room. After checking
both ways to ensure no one’s watching, I slip through the door and
immediately head to the right side of the room, which Theo described as
Elijah’s side. To the left, Theo’s bed is rumpled, with one side of the navy-
blue comforter pulled back to reveal the sheets and his pillow on the floor.
A deck of playing cards is scattered across the top of the mattress. Books
and papers decorate the surface of his armoire, including a child’s drawing
of a stick figure riding what resembles an alicorn. A tunic dangles from one
of the knobs, and a dagger and candle sit on his nightstand.
Elijah’s side is the opposite. Not a single wrinkle or lump mars the
surface of his comforter, and his pillow sits perfectly plumped in the center
of the headboard. There’s nothing on the top of his dresser. Nothing on the
nightstand. An Aclaris flag hangs on the wall as the sole decoration.
Compared to Theo’s space, Elijah’s looks unlived in.
I search his armoire first. Based on what I’ve seen so far, I’m expecting
to find precise organization and his clothes folded just so. Instead, I open
the first drawer to chaos. A tunic bursts free from the overflowing
mishmash of items crammed inside. Wrinkled clothes, books, weapons, and
even a plate compete for space. Mildew wafts from the contents, and my
nose wrinkles as I withdraw a damp towel, which I quickly drop on the
floor.
 Ew. I should have brought gloves.
The chaotic state of Elijah’s drawers makes scouring through them take
longer. I sift through the contents with as much speed as possible while still
being thorough. I’m not sure what I’m looking for…or if I even want to
find something. Any hint about Leesa’s disappearance I stumble across in
Elijah’s room probably points to nothing good.
Finished with the drawers, I switch to the hanging compartment. No
clues, but I do discover three extra tunics over the Flighthaven issued
amount, along with two cups from the mess hall, and a woman’s nightgown.
It’s not one of Leesa’s, though, so I close the doors and head to the bed.
Nothing beneath it or the pillow. Nothing hidden on the underside of the
mattress. The shared desk only holds writing utensils and blank paper.
My hope sinks as I move to the nightstand, the last place to investigate.
Inside, I find another mess. Using my fingertips, I shift a small mountain of
dirty socks to one side. Yup, next time I break into a dorm room, I’m
definitely wearing gloves. Plus, a mask over my nose to spare me from the
stench of sweaty male feet. No wonder Elijah steals Theo’s and other
fledgling’s tunics. The man doesn’t seem to grasp the concept of laundry
soap.
Shifting the socks reveals a hair tie. My heart leaps into my throat.
Wheezing, I work to suck air into my lungs. It’s not just any hair tie, but a
braided purple and black one. Not having conducted a thorough
examination of the most popular colors of hair ties, I can’t speak with
certainty, but I’d bet a set of dragon-scale armor that the exact purple and
black combination in my hand isn’t particularly common. I do know one
person who wore them, though.
Leesa. And the two hairs trapped within the braid match her dark blond
tresses.
I curl my hand around the thin leather cords and close my eyes,
picturing the accessory wrapped around the end of my sister’s braid. “What
in the three hells are you doing with Leesa’s hair tie, Elijah?”
My earlier thought returns with a vengeance. Nothing good.
Shoving the hair tie into my left boot, I return to the drawer and push
more socks aside. My fingers graze a smooth surface. A notebook. I thumb
through the first few pages, revealing a set of painstakingly printed notes
about navigation. The remaining pages appear blank as I flip through them
until I reach the end.
 Outside in the hall, male voices carry. I freeze. After a door slams shut,
the quiet returns. My muscles unclench, but my nerves remain taut, like a
tightened string on a violin.
I need to hurry. Finish up and get out of here before Elijah saunters in.
With a shaky breath, I return to the notebook. Elijah’s printing litters the
second to the last page, and the content pulls a gasp from my lips. The top
line reads, Where did L.A. go?
The remaining lines serves as a written summary of every theory
regarding Leesa’s disappearance to ever reach my ears.
At the bottom, the line Hire an investigator is underlined.
I gawk at the page, struggling to keep my mind from exploding over the
evidence in front of my face. Elijah isn’t responsible for my sister’s
disappearance. If he were, he wouldn’t need a list to figure out her current
location.
The fact that he’s searching for her and holding onto her used hairband
like a stalker creeps me out in an entirely different way, but I table those
thoughts for now. One crisis at a time.
I’m returning the notebook to the drawer when Theo’s voice booms
down the hall. “I told you I needed to go to the room to look for a library
book anyway, Elijah!” His boisterous shout could wake the dead. A
warning.
Shit.
I slam the drawer shut, shove the note into my boot, and dart for the
door.
As I edge it open, Theo yells again. “Elijah, seriously. You don’t need to
come too!”
I peek out to find my accomplice blocking the stairwell door. Theo
widens his eyes at the sight of me and flaps his hand in a hurry up gesture.
The door Theo’s blocking rattles, and someone bangs against the wood
on the opposite side. “Let me in or I swear, I’m going to pound your face
into a pulp!”
For a second, I freeze. Where do I go? Theo stabs his finger toward the
opposite end of the hall. Stairs, he mouths.
Slipping out of the room, I ease the door shut and race in that direction.
I didn’t know there was a second set of stairs on that side, but I trust Theo.
Sure enough, I push open the last door on the left and burst into an empty
stairwell, my pulse sprinting like I just ran Kinneck’s drills.
 Two ever-lights provide dim illumination, splashing an anemic glow
over wood battered from the countless boots pounding it day in and day out.
I don’t realize I’m studying each step until one near the top catches my eye.
A sliver of darkness appears between the top and the body of the step,
where the wood has warped and separated.
What really makes my breathing quicken, however, is the tiny A carved
into the corner near the wall. So faint and innocuous that no one would
notice unless they knew what to look for.
I do, though.
Listening for footsteps, I crouch and wedge my fingers in to pry the gap
open. With a little force, the wood creaks and gives, creating a wide enough
space for me to reach inside. My hunting fingers find a folded piece of
paper and a chain. I pull both out.
I frown at the necklace. The delicate gold chain holds a tiny dragon
pendant, neither of which I recognize. I unfold the paper, and my muscles
seize.
Leesa’s handwriting stares back at me.
Nearby laughter spurs me into action. Shoving the wood back into
place, I drop the necklace and note into my boot. When I scurry into my
room, Helene and Olive are both inside with wet hair.
Olive’s lounging on her bed, while Helene sits at the desk, writing a
letter. My least favorite roommate glances up when I enter. “Your face is all
red and sweaty.”
“Yeah. I was doing some exercises…trying to catch up to the rest of you
so Kinneck won’t keep whistling at me.”
I don’t know if she believes me, but she returns to her letter without
comment.
Olive raises her eyebrows at me. I shake my head at her silent inquiry,
letting her know I discovered nothing in Elijah’s room that would indicate
he kidnapped or hurt Leesa in retaliation for the ego blow she dealt him.
I perch on my bed, facing the wall as I slip off my boots and palm the
piece of paper, necklace, and hair tie. I slide all of them beneath my pillow
before rushing to the bathing chamber to take the world’s shortest shower.
Back in the room, I force myself to go through my regular routine, which
feels like it takes hours instead of minutes. Finally, I curl onto my right side,
away from Helene and Olive, and ease the paper from its hiding spot.
 Only a handful of Leesa’s words peppers the page, scrawled in an even
messier script than usual. The words themselves send my pulse climbing.
The first line reads, What’s wrong with the dragons? The following one
says, Sickness? Sabotage? Eyril overdose?
Below that, she wrote my name and underlined it twice, followed by
File? Fire?
My heart stutters as I read the next line. The date our father died
precedes the words, Research Tirenese account of attack.
Down the page, she writes, Prophecy? After that, only a single line
remains. One that cramps my stomach.
Keep Lark away from Flighthaven.
A little late for that.
Too many minutes pass as I unsuccessfully attempt to decipher Leesa’s
notes. The only sure conclusion I can draw is that my sister noticed an issue
with the dragons. That, and her sudden interest in the Tirenese history,
makes sense. Why she wanted to research the attack that killed our father,
though, I don’t know. I also have no idea how my name came up or what at
Flighthaven concerned her so much. And prophecy? What prophecy? And
how does that tie in with everything else?
I’m guessing file? refers to the personal files the medic mentioned. The
ones Flighthaven supposedly maintains on all young people of a certain age
who might possibly attend the program.
Those are probably located in the records room I’ve passed innumerable
times since arriving at Flighthaven Academy. But unless I can come up with
a legitimate reason to see my file, reading the documents will entail another
breaking and entering scenario, and who knows what the penalty is for
getting caught. I’m not sure the risk is worth it, especially since I’m
struggling to imagine that there’s anything worthwhile to be found.
Leesa’s list circles through my mind as I roll onto my back and close
my eyes. An image of the dead dragon invades my head. Leesa was worried
about the dragons, and now one has died. Coincidence? Doubtful. How
could the dragons relate to her disappearance, though? Bigley mentioned
foreign attacks. Could Leesa have stumbled across a foreign plot to kill the
creatures off? Is there a traitor in our midst…one who got rid of my sister
because she came close to discovering their secrets?
I need to get closer to the dragons. I need to find that book on Tirene.
Maybe once I accomplish those tasks, the rest will click into place and point
me to Leesa. I have to believe they will.
The alternative hurts too much to consider.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twenty-One

The following morning, I sit in the saddle, one hand gripping the reins and
the other clutching a chunk of Zephyr’s mane. Instructor Thorne’s at my
side, fingering the lead rope rather than wrapping the extra length around
his hand. If he drops the lead, Zephyr could take off. “I still think we should
have started off with me mucking out the stable.”
I can’t believe I just whined about not getting to toss dung-coated straw
around with a pitchfork, but here we are.
Instead of our usual routine, Thorne was waiting outside the stable with
Zephyr when I arrived and all but flung me into the saddle before I could
even greet him.
He shakes his head. “The expedited trial date means you need to
progress faster. You’ll fail if you can’t even get off the ground. Worse,
you’re a danger to yourself and your flight unit.”
I know he’s right. I had the same exact thought earlier. That doesn’t
mean I enjoy him confirming my futile chances of success with his
annoyingly perfect lips. “Great pep talk. I feel so much better now.”
“I’m not here to make you feel better. My job is to make you a
competent flyer, and since I don’t like failing, I expect you to work your ass
off until you reach that goal.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to quell both my fear and rising
irritation.
“Why are your eyes closed, Duchess?”
 I suck in a breath and open them. “Why not?”
He presses his lips together in a thin line. “Just keep them open.”
“Yes, sir!”
My faux-excited tone earns me a hard stare before he clicks his tongue
at Zephyr. The lesson continues without any further bickering as Thorne
tugs the alicorn into a trot and prompts him to unfurl and flutter his wings.
By some miracle, I don’t freak out this time.
He gives me an approving nod. “Good. Now hold on tight.”
Using a sweet tone, Thorne issues a command to Zephyr. “Hover.” The
alicorn flaps his wings and lifts into the air, floating several feet above the
ground.
My stomach plunges to my toes, and only pure stubbornness keeps me
from diving off the alicorn’s back. As much as Thorne’s tactless feedback
rubs me the wrong way, I don’t want to let him down.
He takes note of my white-knuckled death grip on the reins. “So how is
it that a noble-born woman doesn’t have much experience riding a horse?
Are you scared of horses too?”
Cued by a signal from the flight instructor, Zephyr lands. I barely get a
chance to catch my breath before Thorne prompts the alicorn to go airborne
once more. Sweat drips from my forehead. “No, not scared of horses. But
my mother was overprotective. She didn’t like the idea of me riding away
from the castle. I think the attack messed with her head, and I was a sickly
child. She worried something would happen to me if I ventured out into the
big wide world, so she kept me close.”
“Even once you got older?”
I sigh. “Even then. I still struggle with dizzy and weak spells.” I don’t
mention the part about my fire magic, and how even with the magic
suppressant, she fretted that I might lose control again in a crowded public
place and hurt people.
Though I look straight ahead, my cheek burns from the weight of his
stare. “That sounds lonely.”
I fidget in the saddle, uncomfortable with the shift in conversation.
“Sometimes, but I really don’t have anything to complain about. I had my
mother and my sister, up until Leesa left for Flighthaven. I had the staff. My
mother did the best she could.”
Did she, though? When I say the words out loud, I’m not sure.
 Zephyr repeats two more cycles of hovering before Thorne replies, his
voice uncharacteristically soft. “It’s okay, you know. To love someone and
still hate their choices and how they treat you. Family is complicated.”
I hesitate. “Do…is there someone in your family like that?”
“My brother.”
His shuttered expression tells me the discussion has ended, but my mind
whirls as Zephyr flaps his wings and repeats the exercise. I ponder what
choices his brother made that he hates, and why the other man treated
Thorne badly. And I wonder if complicated family dynamics could explain
why my moody instructor left home for so long.
Then Zephyr surges into the air, and my focus returns to the alicorn. At
the end of our session, exhilarated laughter escapes me. I reach down and
stroke Zephyr’s neck. “That was both terrifying and amazing.”
Thorne’s gaze grows distant. “Wait until you fly.”
Nervous energy zips down my spine, but I force myself to keep
breathing. One step at a time.
When the lesson is over, I dismount without my teacher’s assistance.
Despite the fact that he’s a royal pain in the ass, I can’t deny how
Thorne’s helped me come a long way in overcoming my fear of alicorns.
“Instructor?” I tug on my braid, annoyed with myself for being anxious
about thanking him. “Thank you for all your help. With training, I mean.”
He studies me with an unreadable expression, and after a bit, I don’t
think he’s going to answer me. “That’s my job, Duchess. Don’t make more
of it than that.”
That’s what I get for trying to be polite.
A knot forms in my throat. “A simple ‘you’re welcome’ would have
worked.”
I’d hoped to ask Thorne if he’d show me the dragons, but now might
not be the most opportune moment. I bite my cheek. Screw it. “Do you
think you could give me a tour of the dragon aerie sometime soon?”
He stiffens, emotions flitting across his face too quickly for me to
comprehend them. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Disappointment seeps into my bones. I don’t know why I bothered.
“Whatever. I’ll ask Vice Commander Torno.” My conversation with her that
first day leads me to believe she might be accommodating. “Have a nice
day, sir.”
 I turn on my heel and trip over my feet. Before I hit the ground, he pulls
me up. There’s an unspoken apology in his eyes, and a flicker of something
else. Longing? Desire? Or am I imagining things that aren’t there?
The air stills, and my stupid heart beats double-time.
He swallows. His gaze dips to my mouth before his jaw hardens.
“Lark⁠—”
The sound of my given name on his tongue does funny things to my
heart. Things I definitely should not be feeling. Embracing my inner
coward, I turn and bolt.
It’s not until midway through breakfast that the weird ending to our
training session fades enough for me to celebrate the positive aspects. I rode
an alicorn whose hooves left the ground! That counts as a success
regardless of how high I got—or didn’t get—into the air.

No one harasses Olive in the mess hall, and my hopes remain high as we
leave breakfast. They plummet once we reach Kinneck’s class. Today’s
torture session comes courtesy of an exercise he calls “walk the plank,”
which I renamed the “pit of doom.”
As soon as we enter the training room, suspicion rears its ugly head.
Kinneck’s grinning, entirely too pleased with himself for today’s scheduled
activity to be anything other than a sadistic clusterfuck. Whistling, Kinneck
leads us out of the classroom and along a trodden dirt path to the forest. The
trees part and tower over us on both sides like silent sentinels, their leaves
whispering in the breeze as we arrive at a spot where the ground splits apart
and separates to form a wide crater in the earth. A row of the narrowest
footbridges I’ve ever had the misfortune of viewing spans the gap. Short
wooden planks attached horizontally form the platforms, which can’t be
much wider than the length of my foot. No handrails either.
Without prompting, fledglings start lining up behind the bridges.
Kinneck’s high-pitched whistle assaults my ears. “You know the drill.
The object is to get across the bridge without falling in.”
“What’s in the pit today?” someone asks.
Kinneck chuckles. “Try not to find out. On my count, and remember to
keep going until I say stop. Go!”
 The first group takes off. The bridges bounce and sway beneath their
boots and emit alarming creaks and squeals. When the fastest fledgling gets
to the halfway point, the next two students in line squat down, grab each
side of the bridge, and start shaking the foundation.
“What in the hells are they doing?” I hiss.
Olive snorts. “Don’t worry, it’s part of the exercise. If you don’t do it,
Kinneck throws you in the pit.”
That sounds ominous. “Do I even want to ask what’s in the pit?”
Abel drops an arm around my shoulder. “Probably not, and we don’t
know yet anyway. It changes every time.”
I scoot closer and peer into the abyss. Darkness greets me. “How deep is
it?”
He shrugs. “Dunno, but the good news is, no one’s died from this yet.”
He scratches his chin. “As far as I know. Wanna know the bad news?”
I chew my lower lip before shaking my head. “Pass.”
Abel offers me a dark chuckle and a head pat. “You’re learning.” The
fledgling on our bridge finishes. Before I can protest, Abel nudges me
forward. “Here, you go next. Standing around will only make you more
nervous.”
“No! Wait! I don’t want to⁠—”
Kinneck materializes out of nowhere. “Fledgling Axton! What seems to
be the hold up here?”
“I…nothing, sir.”
He claps his hands three times in a row. “Then let’s get a-crack-a-
lackin! Go, Axton. Go!”
The muffled chortle from behind me has to be Abel. The traitor. In my
mind, I toss both him and Kinneck into the pit.
In reality, I place my right boot on the bridge with the upmost care. My
body freezes when the surface shakes.
Where’s Elijah when you need him? I’d happily let him hit me again to
get out of this exercise. I wonder if it’s too late to punch myself in the face
instead.
“What are you waiting for, Axton? An invitation from King Xenon
himself? You have until the count of three to start hustling, and then I’m
shoving you in.”
Crap. I scramble to place my right foot in front of my left. Despite the
sickening sway of the bridge, I keep moving, placing one foot in front of
the other.
A familiar yelp comes from my left. I risk a glance to confirm that Olive
is on the next bridge over.
“There you go! And hold on tight, because here comes the balance
challenge.”
Hold on tight? To what? Unless he wants me to grab a stray bird that
flies past, there’s nothing here for me to grasp besides air.
I cringe, knowing what’s coming next, and continue my slow crawl
across the wobbly planks. A high-pitched creak jolts me. I spin my arms to
maintain my balance as the bridge bucks beneath my boots.
I last one second. Two. Another wave strikes. I stumble forward but
manage to remain on the wood.
Near the halfway point, hope rises. I’m getting closer. One step at a
time. A gentle breeze flutters a loose strand of hair, and I inhale the scent of
pine-and-salt before easing forward.
The bridge bucks again. I wobble. My left foot slips off the edge, and
though I start to recover, a strong blast of wind slams into my back. Air
magic.
My shriek echoes all around as I tumble off the side into the darkness.
The fall is blessedly short. Bracing for the agony of impact, I’m
overjoyed when a soft substance breaks my landing. Like a thick, fetid stew,
the mush slurps me beneath the surface. As my head slips under, another
scream rings out, but I’m too busy trying not to suffocate to worry about the
source. My feet touch the bottom, and with a hard push, I surface, spitting
and trying not to puke.
The smell. It’s ungodsly.
Gagging, I swipe at a piece of hair clinging to my lips, desperate to keep
the foulness coating the strand out of my mouth. From my spot beneath the
bridges, there’s enough light to make out a staircase built into the earth. I
dog paddle in that direction, flinging noxious mud with each stroke.
Something splatters and spits behind me. “Lark? Is that you?”
At the sound of Olive’s voice, my initial tension dissipates. “Yup, it’s
me. Any idea what this stuff is?”
A cough. “Don’t ask.”
“Right,” I mutter.
I paddle until the pit becomes shallow enough for me to walk, and then I
wait for Olive to catch up. When she does, we head for the staircase,
heaving identical sighs of relief once we reach salvation. As I grab for the
bottom step to haul myself out, the sludge starts churning and yanking at
my legs.
What fresh godsforsaken horror is this?
My fingernails scrabble with the hard-packed dirt to find purchase but
fail. In desperation, I lunge for a tree root, managing to curl my hand
around it before the pit drags me back in.
Behind me, Olive’s scream abruptly cuts off. Ice trickles down my
spine.
“Olive?” Nothing. “Olive!” Still nothing.
Rotating my grip, I turn to confront the gurgling sludge. No Olive. A
small whirlpool spins near the spot I saw her last, though, so I stretch my
legs toward it.
Seconds pass with no sign of my friend. My fear explodes into full-
blown panic. I’m about to release my grip and dive in to find her when a
hand coils around my boot. Somehow, I recruit muscles I didn’t realize I
had to drag her back to safety. Gasping, she pulls herself onto the first step,
rolls her head to the side, and vomits. Afterward, she curls on her side and
pants.
For at least a minute, my heart thrashes like a wild animal trapped in my
chest. When I can finally speak, I hiss, “Kinneck has lost his godsforsaken
mind. Is he trying to drown us?”
Olive coughs. “That part wasn’t Kinneck. That was one of our lovely
peers using earth magic.”
That’s when I hear it. The muffled laughter coming from the top of the
stairs. “So now they’re cool with murdering you too?”
She pushes herself to her knees, then her feet. “They wouldn’t have let
it go that far. Probably.”
The tone of her voice echoes my doubt. “Can’t say I’m feeling
especially reassured. And there’s nothing we can do about it?”
“Not really. Going to Torno or Bigley will only drive them to do
worse…and get sneakier. We just need to hope they lose interest soon and
move on to something else.”
“Or we could fight back.”
Olive releases a watery laugh. “We could, but that might just piss them
off even more. Not to pick on you or anything, but your magic doesn’t seem
strong enough to be a threat.”
 Not now. But it could be.
When we emerge into the sunlight, the color of the substance coating us
like a second skin becomes clear. Brown. It’s brown and smells like the
wrong side of a cow. By the heavens, please tell me I’m not covered in⁠—
“Fertilized mud!” Kinneck hollers. “Now you all know what to avoid
today in the pit.”
I scrunch up my nose. So shit, basically. We’re covered head to toe in
shit. My best friend almost drowned in shit. What a perfect way to kick off
the rest of the day.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twenty-Two

After the dragon-dung debacle, Abel pulls Olive and me aside and uses his
water magic to remove the worst of it. Not enough for Instructor Scalor,
though, who scrunches up her freckled nose and sends us off to shower
before we rejoin the class. Olive’s quieter than usual. The attack shook her
—more than she wants to admit. I shudder to imagine what might have
happened if I hadn’t been there.
As much as I hate to admit, maybe Thorne has a point. Maybe
suppressing my magic is the wrong choice. I’m afraid of what could happen
if my fire burns out of control, but if I learned to tame my elemental ability,
I could better defend myself and those I care about. Mother was always
adamant that I take the remedy, but she’s not here, and I can’t let her dictate
every decision in my life.
During lunch, a flyer I don’t recognize announces the arrival of a mail
delivery. Prompted by Olive, I stuff the remaining bite of pork and
mushroom gravy in my mouth and pick up my tray. She leads me outside
and around to the far side of the mess hall, to a small room I’ve never
noticed that houses dozens of niches in the wall, each with a room number
written above.
Olive pulls out a small stack of envelopes sealed with wax stamps and
thrusts two of them at me. “Here you go.”
She grips two envelopes to her own chest as well. Sparing a moment to
hope that one is from the cousins she hasn’t heard from in a long time, I tell
her I’ll see her in a bit and exit the mail room to wander the grounds in
search of a quiet place to read. My aimless roaming leads me toward a
shady tree near the alicorn stable. A husky, feminine laugh draws me up
short.
I spot Instructor Thorne first. Hands in his pockets, leaning against the
white fence with his head tilted low, he appears as relaxed as I’d ever seen
him. I can’t help the spark that ignites within me at the sight of him, but the
flame snuffs out when my gaze falls on the beautiful advanced battle
maneuvers instructor standing beside him.
Tall, willowy, and blond, Celeste Dawson toys with a loose strand of
hair as she again giggles at something Thorne says. Uncomfortable pressure
squeezes my ribcage, and a strange urge to stalk over and yank her back by
her shiny ponytail fills me. What the hells is so funny, anyway? I doubt
anything coming from Thorne’s mouth could possibly be that amusing.
I bet she’s faking it.
I should turn around before they spot me, but for some reason, I’m
rooted to the ground.
As if sensing my presence, Thorne lifts his head and locates me. The
instant our eyes meet, a zap of energy courses through me. His nostrils
flare, causing me to wonder if he feels the electricity, too, before Dawson
plants an elegant hand on his arm, returning his attention to her.
Ugh. The sight of that pale hand on his arm bugs me far more than it
should. Huffing an annoyed breath, I swirl around, stomp to the tree, and
plop down, determined to block out their voices and grab a few minutes of
solitude to read my letters. I remove my socks and boots, wiggling my toes
through the sun-warmed grass until I feel myself start to relax.
Tossing one of the envelopes onto the grass beside me, I open the one
featuring my mother’s elegant script.

My dearest Lark,
Since you’ve been gone, I’ve barely slept or eaten. I’m so worried about
you, I’m certain I’ll face an early grave.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, wishing for the thousandth time she’d quit
with the dramatics. She acts like I’m as helpless as a newborn baby,
completely incapable of caring for myself.
I pray to the gods daily that you haven’t been injured at Flighthaven. If
anything happened to you, I couldn’t bear it.

Grimacing, I skim the remaining contents, my mother’s emotional tirade

growing worse by the sentence. Of course she’s worried. That much, I get.
But I don’t understand her lack of faith in my abilities to stand on my own
two feet. Transient dizzy and weak spells don’t make me utterly
incompetent to survive on my own.
At last, I reach the end.

I know you said you’d remain at Flighthaven for a month, but I’m terrified
of what might happen in that amount of time. It’s due to my concern for
your well-being that I’ve already written to the king about exempting you
from the service commitment. I’ll write the second I get word back.

A torrent of emotion sweeps through me. I should be ecstatic about the

possibility of going home. Thrilled to leave this place teeming with
obnoxious fledglings, dangerous hazing, and mysterious dragon deaths.
Overjoyed to never again worry about flying on the back of an alicorn or
spending time with rude instructors who make my body yearn for
unobtainable things.
But I’m not. And not just because I’m finally getting somewhere
regarding Leesa’s whereabouts, although that’s a big part of it. I’m so close
to overcoming my terror of flying. If I quit before I do, I will never get a
chance like this again. When I leave Flighthaven, I want to march out of
that gate knowing I conquered my fear of alicorns for good and put the
demons of my past to rest.
I scowl at the page. “Why must you always treat me like an invalid?” I
know she means well, but gods. Her constant fussing and smothering rips at
my confidence with razored claws. For once, why can’t she simply believe
in me the way she does Leesa?
Crumpling the letter, I shove her words back into the envelope and open
the second message. It’s from Royce and short and to the point.
Lady Lark, his letter begins.
Cringe. I keep telling him to forego the title, but he never complies.
Lady Lark sounds so pretentious. Like some snooty noblewoman who flits
around in elaborate gowns, ordering servants to fetch her tea and plump her
pillows while she lounges on gold-tasseled settees and commands a string
quartet to serenade her.

I apologize for bothering you, but a fire destroyed our food stores for the
pantry. We suffered no injuries, but we have families that rely on us. I hate
to ask when you’re dealing with so much, but it’s an emergency. We are in
desperate need of replacements for our stockpile. Can you spare coin to
send as soon as possible?

My heart sinks. Although I brought money from home and already received
payment for my first two weeks here, I don’t know how I feel about using
mail service to get the funds to Royce. We’ve had issues in my village with
thieves opening any mail they believe might contain valuables. I’d hate to
send coins only to have them stolen, especially when it sounds like those
families can’t afford any delay.
There’s more to the letter, so I continue reading.

Also, I received a new book that I think might interest you. It’s from the
library where Peaches was staying before she went on her extended
vacation. You can pick it up when you next visit.

Baffled, I scan the line again. Royce and I never exchange books. And who
in the three hells is Peaches?
A couple beats later, the name clicks. My hands tremble. Royce jokingly
referred to Leesa as Peaches. Shortly before she left for duty, I took her with
me to see him. Royce’s wife had baked peach pies, Leesa’s favorite type.
She inspired the nickname after scarfing down an entire pie on her own.
Reading between the lines, I deduce that someone sent Royce a book
from Flighthaven. Possibly the book. The one Leesa checked out and never
returned to the library. I’m not sure why he felt the need to be so cryptic,
but he clearly wants me to retrieve the book in person. Otherwise, he would
have included it with the letter.
My brain whirls. I need to get him money—and see that book—as soon
as possible. How, though? Time is critical, and Flighthaven students can’t
just up and leave whenever they want. According to the rule book, new
fledglings must remain on campus for four weeks before requesting
permission to leave. The only exception is for a death in the immediate
family. Short of faking my mother’s untimely demise, I’m officially stuck
here for the moment. That leaves me with the unofficial route.
Sneaking my way out.
I’m still brainstorming how to accomplish this feat when the horn
announcing the end of lunch blares. A steady stream of fledglings flows past
my spot. I join the herd, arriving at the alicorn stable and stopping near the
paddock as the others hurry inside to prepare their mounts. Biting my lip, I
wonder how Thorne plans to get me out of class today without looking
suspicious. I can almost taste how close I am to flying, but I’m not ready to
join the other fledglings yet. I hope he realizes that too. Or at least doesn’t
decide that I need a sink or swim scenario to leap over those last few
hurdles. If he tries to force me to fly an alicorn right now, my lungs better
be ready to suck down water because I’m pretty sure I’d drown.
Thorne strides out of the stable. Alone. Not that I was checking, because
that would be foolish. He’s my instructor, and I’m his student. Even if I
wanted more between us—which I don’t—it’s forbidden. So what if I’m
attracted to him? That just means I fit in with all the other women at
Flighthaven. Only someone without eyes could fail to see the man’s
physical appeal.
I groan, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes. Why am I fixating
on this? Moody or not, Thorne could pick just about anyone to hook up
with. Am I truly arrogant enough to believe that someone as unsophisticated
as me could hook his interest? Sure, the chemistry between us doesn’t feel
one-sided, but what do I know? Confinement at Castle Axton limited my
experiences with romantic entanglements and sexual attraction.
To my surprise, Thorne calls the class together to make an
announcement. “I have to step away from training this afternoon, so
Mortimer will be in charge. Mortimer, please run them through the drills we
practiced last week.” When a visibly pleased Helene nods, Thorne shifts his
attention to me. “Fledgling Axton. You’re to come with me.”
The whispers and conjecture bubble up the second we turn our backs.
“What was that all about?” I whisper-yell as my shorter legs work to keep
up with his long strides.
Ignoring my question, he tugs on my arm. “Come on.”
 “But what about⁠—”
“Just this once, could you follow orders without arguing or pestering me
with questions?”
Half running to avoid getting dragged while Thorne marches along, I
last a mere ten seconds without speaking.
“Where’s the fire?” Nothing. “Where are we going?” Silence. “Could
you at least slow down a little?” I swear, the bastard speeds up.
I open my mouth to verbally prod him yet again, snapping my lips shut
when I catch a glimpse of his profile. A vein in his temple bulges, and for
once, I have the good sense to bite my tongue and not piss him off more.
Finally, he stops outside an enormous stone building that reaches high
into the sky. My jaw falls open. The dragon aerie. He led us to the dragon
aerie.
When we first walked up, everything remained quiet. Now, the ground
rumbles beneath my boots, and subdued roars and screeches clash together
in an ungodsly chorus. Like, even through the thick stone walls, the dragons
can sense our presence.
My mouth dries, and I wait for the onslaught of fear to envelop me. But
it never comes.
I take a deep breath. “What are we doing here?”
Thorne regards me with an impenetrable expression. “You said you
wanted to visit the dragons. We’re visiting the dragons.”
I blink at that unexpected reply. “Wow. Just like that, huh? So, if I said I
wanted a bed made of gold and a handsome prince to whisk me away on a
snowy white steed to a glittering palace, would you make that happen too?”
His eyes narrow. “What use is a bed that’s too hard to sleep on? And
you’d annoy the handsome prince so much, he’d dump your ass off his
horse long before you ever made it to any palace.”
“I’m guessing that’s a no.”
His low growl lets me know he’s nearing the end of his patience.
As a peace offering, I hold up my palms. “Sorry, sheesh. Thank you for
agreeing to show me the aerie, even if it’s making you even testier than
usual. Can we go inside now?”
“I’m not just showing you the aerie. You’re going to help me feed the
dragons.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twenty-Three

I gape at my flight instructor. “Is that…allowed?”

He can’t be serious. As far as I know, only the dragonriders and a few
high-ranking officers have permission to feed these powerful creatures, and
for good reason. Such as not getting barbecued or cooked into a bite-sized
dragon appetizer…like human tartare.
He shrugs. “It is now.”
“Are you always so flippant with the rules?”
“No more than you are.” His mouth twitches into a hint of a smile, and
my ridiculous heart stutters. “Come on. I’ll show you what to do.”
I swallow hard. Although I’m surprisingly not terrified, I’m still
cautious.
Approaching an oversized iron door, Thorne nods at the guard standing
off to one side. The man proceeds to unbolt the bars locking the structure in
place. The door creaks open and releases a gust of air that smells like a mix
of hay, smoke, and, more disturbingly, raw meat. In the dim, windowless
interior, my eyes adjust to the flickering mage lights on the walls. Thorne
shuts the door behind us and leads me to the right, the walkway skirting
some sort of giant paddock.
I’m not sure why, but the atmosphere inside the aerie reminds me of a
giant tomb. Depressing. Smothering. I can almost feel an invisible entity
leeching my energy with slow, steady sips, draining my strength bit by bit.
 I stifle a groan. Thank the gods Thorne can’t read minds because my
imagination just dove headfirst off the deep end. Not a huge surprise
considering the life-altering events of the past several days. Stress exacts a
toll on the mind, and the heavens know I’ve had plenty to stress about
lately.
Even before we reach another large iron door, cold nips at my skin.
Plumes of frigid air snake out from separations in the jamb, leaving a thin
layer of frost on the metal.
I shiver. “What is this place?”
“Cold storage. It’s where we keep animal carcasses for the dragons to
eat.”
For some reason, I had assumed that the dragons ate oats and hay like
the alicorns. Not a high point for me, intelligence-wise. “How do you keep
the temperature so low?”
His lips curve up. “How do you think?”
Magic. Of course. Probably his, given his ability to wield ice.
As he opens the door, frosty air billows out, stinging my cheeks. Goose
bumps pebble my skin. I wrap my arms around myself, wishing I’d brought
my heavy cloak.
Thorne steps away. Before I can turn to see where he went, he returns
and drapes something over my shoulders. A maroon blanket. Standing too
close for comfort, he tugs the ends together and knots them to fashion a
cape.
The thick wool instantly helps to banish the cold, stopping my goose
bumps and toasting my skin. This thoughtful act causes a different kind of
warmth to bloom in my chest. I stare up into his gold-flecked eyes,
breathing in his minty exhales, fighting my body’s urge to lean toward him
the way a plant reaches for the sun. “Thank you.”
I’m uncertain of my own facial expression, but his eyes flash with heat
at whatever he sees before he clears his throat and backs up. “Your teeth
were chattering. You never know what will set the dragons off.”
Turning away, he opens the door. I roll my eyes at his back. “Right. You
brought me a blanket because the dragons don’t want me to be cold. You
know, it’s okay if people discover that you can be nice sometimes.” He
throws me a dark look. “Or not.”
I bite back a snicker. I don’t know what it is about him that makes me
want to poke the bear, but I can’t help myself. Getting under Thorne’s skin
might just be my all-time-favorite new hobby.
He piles what appears to be large deer carcasses into two wheelbarrows.
He grabs the handles on one and gestures for me to grab the other. After
closing the iron door, he pushes his wheelbarrow to the right.
I fall behind with my load, pausing a moment to shamelessly note the
way his back muscles ripple against his shirt as he exerts himself.
He glances over his shoulder. “You coming?”
Feigning innocence—despite my hot cheeks—I catch up with him.
“Don’t dragons prefer fresh meat?”
“Yes.”
I wait a beat for him to elaborate. “Very elucidating, thank you.”
A grunt, followed by a sigh. “Fresh meat is better, but apparently, it’s
too big of a hassle for Flighthaven to bother with all the time. They get it
occasionally, but frozen is more convenient.” His tone tells me he doesn’t
agree.
Along with an occasional clank, huffs and snorts grow louder as we
curve around the interior paddock and reach a series of cells. Each tall, wide
enclosure reminds me of a dungeon, featuring iron bars along the front. A
leaf-colored mountain flashes between the bars of the first cell. I stop in my
tracks as a giant body moves and a pair of gold eyes fixes on mine.
My heart stops. Restarts. Gallops. Instinctive fear floods my veins,
accompanied by an odd flicker of an emotion I can’t quite name. The pen
keeps the dragon contained, but there are gaps between the bars. Big gaps.
Plenty large enough for the dragon’s fire to burst out and char us both to a
crisp.
“Thorne…” My attention darts to the dragon’s mouth. That’s when I see
the iron wrapped around the beast’s muzzle and head, holding its massive
jaw shut. Despite my initial reaction, a tight ball forms in my gut. My throat
burns as a wave of despair flushes out my fear. “Oh, no.”
Movement ripples through the other enclosures. Huge triangular heads
press up against the bars, and multiple sets of eyes gleam, their vertical
pupils unblinking as they watch me. The colors vary between iron gray,
cinder black, tan, red, and wheat-like gold. Scales pattern their enormous
bodies, while wicked spikes protrude from their lower spines to the tips of
their pointed tails.
They’re absolutely magnificent…and terrifying. They’re also all glaring
at me as if they’d much rather peel my flesh from my bones and suck out
the marrow than eat the dead deer and other large prey animals in the
wheelbarrows. Even so, I’m not as terrified as I probably should be. Despite
their circumstances, there’s something regal about them. Something
beautiful and fierce that calls to me, making me itch to run my fingers along
a scaly cheek.
“Poor things. You shouldn’t be here, should you? All caged up like
prisoners in a dungeon. You’re meant to be out there, flying free.”
As I murmur, Thorne observes me with an intensity that rivals the
dragons’. “I take it you disagree with how the dragons are kept at
Flighthaven.”
“Yes. Vehemently. This can’t be healthy for them.” I can’t pull my gaze
off the one closest to us. Those golden eyes trap me, hold me still. Despair
washes through me again, along with anger over their captivity. I wince as I
recall how caged I felt at our castle. Compared to these dragons, I had all
the freedom in the world.
A fresh wave of exhaustion crashes into me, and my head begins to spin
and throb. “Do you agree with this?”
Somehow, I know the answer before he even offers his curt reply. “No.”
“Do…are all dragons kept like this?”
He shakes his head. “When dragons bond with their riders, there’s no
need for jailing them.”
“So the rumors are true then. The dragons in Aclaris are no longer
bonding.” I’d heard the whispers, but never knew if the rumors were true.
“What about in other kingdoms?”
Thorne tenses before exhaling a forceful breath. “Not sure.”
I tilt my head as he averts his gaze. “Why do you think⁠—”
“Stop. We’re not here to discuss my theories on why the dragons are or
aren’t bonding. We’re here to feed them. So let’s get started.”
With his wheelbarrow in tow, he approaches the door to the first
enclosure while murmuring soft words beneath his breath. The leaf-green
dragon cocks its head, tracking the motion.
I edge closer to the pen, watching Thorne as he hauls the carcass onto
his back and dumps the mound of meat and flesh into a huge metal trough.
“Do you need any help?”
“No, stay back. I need to remove the restraints on her mouth so she can
eat, and it’ll look bad on my record if I get a fledgling fried in the process.”
 “As always, your concern for my well-being warms my heart.” I frown.
“What about you? How do you know she won’t fry you?”
“I’m much too pretty and charming to fry. Isn’t that right, Farrow?”
I snort. “Definitely not too humble, though.”
“False modesty is a waste of time.” A click follows that proclamation,
and my stomach clenches as he removes the iron band from Farrow’s
muzzle. “Dragons are smart, and there’s a reason for that saying, ‘don’t bite
the hand that feeds you.’”
Farrow opens her mouth wide, showcasing a curled, black tongue and
an alarming array of pointed teeth close to my forearm in length. Thorne
steps off to the side as the dragon breathes fire at the carcass, presumably
warming the meal before digging in. He exits and grabs the wheelbarrow
while Farrow’s teeth begin ripping chunks of flesh off the bones.
We go from cell to cell, feeding the dragons and returning to the freezer
for refills. The task eats up a lot of time, and pushing the wheelbarrow
grows more grueling with every step. By the second trip back and forth, the
dull burn in my arm and back muscles erupts into a blaze. The longer we
stay, the heavier the air becomes. Every step drains me just a little bit more,
and a sense of hopelessness wraps around my body. Leesa must have hated
seeing the dragons like this too. If only they could tell me where I might
find her.
After the fifth dragon’s been fed, I blurt out the question on my mind.
“Did you know my sister Leesa?”
Something flickers across Thorne’s face. “Of course. I was her
instructor.” His gaze travels over my features. “You don’t resemble her. A
stranger would never guess you’re related, much less siblings.”
I shrug. “My mother said Leesa takes after her, while I look like my
paternal grandmother.”
His eyebrows inch up, but he says nothing.
“Have you heard anything about Leesa and where she might have
disappeared to?”
“Guessing I’ve heard the same rumors that you have. It’s all
speculation, unfortunately.”
A knot forms in my throat. “What if she’s dead?”
Thorne’s chest inflates on a sharp breath. His jaw tightens, and his eyes
go blank. Then an odd emotion—maybe regret—softens his features. “Look
at me. There’s no reason to believe the worst.”
 I do as he asks, searching his face for reassurance. “How can you be so
sure?”
“She was well liked here for the most part. People respected her. And
there were no signs of foul play.”
To my utter shock, he pauses outside the cold room to grab my hand and
give it a gentle squeeze. Embers spark to life at the innocent touch, the sight
of his fingers on my skin zapping all my nerve endings awake. As if he
experienced the same spark, Thorne jolts, dropping my hand like it stung
him.
When he disappears into cold storage to grab more carcasses, I tell
myself I’m relieved. I use the short break to get my shit together, reminding
myself of all the very smart reasons why lusting after Thorne is a
catastrophe waiting to happen.
He reemerges, and I resume our conversation as though we didn’t just
experience some weird hand-touching event. “Then what could have
happened to her?”
“A recruit anonymously reported her sneaking out one night to meet
someone.” He shrugs. “Most likely, she left of her own accord.”
No. Leesa isn’t a deserter. I don’t believe it. But maybe I should pray
that I’m wrong. After all, deserting is better than dead.
I swipe at the tears in my eyes. “Thanks for telling me what you do
know.”
With a grunt, Thorne shoves the wheelbarrow forward. I follow, pushing
the lighter second wheelbarrow to the cell holding the black dragon. I’m not
sure if it’s the dark color or the bigger size, but this one appears more
formidable than the others. As we approach, my pulse climbs.
The gold pupils stare at the meat, transfixed. The beast’s quickened
breaths hiss through the enclosure, and its jaw clicks. As I watch, I can
almost feel his intense hunger, to the point that my own belly rumbles and a
sudden desire to eat grips me. Devastation floods my veins over how
trapped these magnificent beasts are. How depressing such a life must be.
Shortly after we entered the aerie, my head started pounding and
spinning, and now it’s hurting worse than ever. Trembling, I rub my
throbbing temples as colors, followed by fuzzy images, flash behind my
eyes. I picture myself soaring through the sky. Feeling the wind whoosh
past and hearing my own jubilant roar. These images bleed together,
creating a dizzying array.
 Thorne steps closer. “Are you all right?”
Wincing, I continue to massage my temples in slow circles. “My head is
killing me.”
I sense Thorne studying my profile. “Did you take your eyril today?”
The odd question stills my fingers. “Doesn’t everyone at Flighthaven?”
The evasion rolls off my tongue.
He lifts a shoulder. “At Flighthaven? Maybe. Other kingdoms? Not
necessarily.”
What does that mean?
He dumps the last load of carcasses into the dragon’s pen. Through the
bars, Thorne rubs the black dragon’s leg. The creature swings its massive
head toward him and emits a sound similar to a purr. Even with my skull
threatening to split in two, I can’t help but smile.
Thorne has a gentle way with animals that puts them at ease.
Not that it matters. Even if Thorne isn’t quite as horrible as I originally
believed, he’s a distraction I can’t afford.
Especially since I need to find a way to steal an alicorn right out from
under his nose.
The pain in my head ratchets up. I do my best to hide my discomfort,
but I’m not sure how successful I am given the glances Thorne keeps
shooting my way. Like they sense my pain, the dragons all stare at me too.
I’m happy once Thorne announces we’re finished and leads me to the front
door.
Outside, the vice-like grip on my skull weakens, taking most of the
dizziness with it. Thorne’s observant eyes continue to bore into me.
“Feeling better?”
I nod. “Weird, right? Maybe damp air and the smell of dragon bodies
just doesn’t agree with me.”
“Has that triggered a headache or one of your dizzy spells before?
Damp air and certain scents, I mean.”
“Not sure. There often doesn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to
them.” Not exactly true. Since starting at Flighthaven, I’ve noticed a link
between my weak spells and my attempts to either access or suppress my
magic. Not like I can share that information, though. “Now that you
mention it, I do seem to get headaches more often around animals. Maybe
it’s an allergy or something.”
“Maybe.”
 His tone lacks conviction, and I hastily change the subject. “Anyway,
thank you for bringing me to visit the dragons. I know you didn’t want to,
but I really appreciate it. It means a lot to me.”
As I beam at him, I can almost see the walls go up. His mouth thins into
a line, and his jaw tenses. “Don’t do that.”
I frown. “Do what? Thank you?”
“Paint me as something I’m not.”
With that enigmatic line, he pivots and starts striding off. Perplexed, I
holler at his back. “Like what?”
“Like the kind of guy who does things out of the goodness of his heart.
You’ll end up disappointed.”
I watch him stalk off, torn between irritation and sadness. Irritation,
because I find his mood swings from decent human to total asshole tough to
follow. Sadness, because he seems to believe he’s the worst sort of man.
Granted, he can be a real dick sometimes, but there’s more to him than that.
Beneath that outer layer of pure jackass, Thorne possesses some admirable
qualities. When I consider the notion that he might not agree, my chest
aches a little.
Despite our rocky beginning, I actually like him. At least, I do when
he’s not going out of his way to act spiteful. With all the free time he’s
devoted to my remedial training, his patience and care with animals, the
way he protected me from harm when those two absolute dickbags attacked
me during magic class, and the genuine pain in his eyes when he put the
dragon out of its misery, how could my heart not soften? It pains me that he
might not see what I see.
By the time I remember that I wanted to ask him about the process of
obtaining a pass to leave Flighthaven, he’s disappeared. I sigh. Probably for
the best. With the way he stormed off, I doubt he was in a very obliging
mood.
Here’s to hoping Olive can help me out.
Crossing my fingers, I go in search of my roommate.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twenty-Four

A good opportunity to ask Olive about leaving campus never presents itself
during dinner. My unusually subdued roommate sports pink-rimmed,
bloodshot eyes. When I ask if anything is wrong, she shoots me down,
claiming she just received some bad news—nothing big—in one of the
letters from her family. I don’t pry. I simply let her know I’ll be around if
she decides she wants to talk.
Once we return to our room, she motions for me to sit on her bed. “How
do you feel about breaking the rules?”
I settle on her mattress, considering her proposition. “How big of a rule
are we talking?”
She pulls a small bottle from beneath the mattress and holds it up. “Oh,
nothing major.”
In the dim light, I can’t tell what she’s holding. “Is that some kind of
drug?”
“No.” She snickers. For the first time this evening, she appears more
upbeat. “It’s just nail polish. Against the rules, sure, since it’s not part of our
military uniform. But I thought we could paint our toenails. No one will
ever know.”
I can’t care less about painting my nails. I do care about Olive, though,
and if such a simple task chases the shadows from her eyes, I’m more than
happy to agree. “Let’s do it.”
 While we paint our nails scarlet, we giggle and gossip, much like Leesa
and I did back in our bedchambers as children.
Gods, how I miss my sister. But I’m grateful for this time with Olive.
These moments are so…normal, so reminiscent of home.
I finish my first coat and pass the bottle to Olive. “When you mentioned
breaking the rules, I thought it was going to be something way worse. Like
sneaking out.”
“Don’t put it past me.” She dips the brush in the polish before painting
her big toenail. “But where would we go? We’re pretty secluded here.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Back home, I would sneak out at night and meet
with a guy I run a food pantry with. And sometimes, when I got too stir-
crazy, I’d slip out and wander around town.”
Her jaw drops. “Seriously? You’re quite the little risk-taker.”
“Seriously. If my mother found out, she’d have been livid, but I was
sneaky.” I grin, and Olive flashes a smile of her own. “Speaking of family,
I’ve been meaning to ask you about your brother…if you don’t mind.”
She sucks in a breath, face sobering. “I don’t usually talk about my
brother. Did someone say something?”
“I overheard some fledglings mention you and your brother. Since I had
to hurry back to class, I didn’t hear much, but I got the impression
something bad happened.”
Her eyes glisten.
My heart squeezes. “I didn’t mean to upset⁠—”
“It’s okay.” She brushes away the tear sliding down her cheek. “No one
at Flighthaven knows what I’m about to tell you, so please don’t repeat it.”
“Of course not.”
She makes a pained sound. “Flighthaven wasn’t a good fit for Gregory,
and, well, he defected.”
“Pardon my ignorance, but what exactly does that mean?”
“He couldn’t stand it here, so he left. He went home.” She lowers her
gaze. “Nothing my mother or father said could get him to come back.”
“Not even the threat of the king taking away your family’s titles and
lands?”
If what Olive said happened, she wouldn’t be a noble any longer and
wouldn’t have to serve here unless she enlisted.
I want to ask about that but wait for her to speak.
 At last, she shrugs. “Even our family losing everything couldn’t
convince Gregory to return. The king did confiscate some of our lands, but
he allowed us to retain all of our titles so we wouldn’t be complete pariahs.”
Or because he had Olive to take Gregory’s place?
Given her distress, I should change the subject, but I can’t. If Leesa
defected as Gregory did, I need to know what consequences await her…
what befell him.
“Where’s your brother now?”
“He’s…he’s dead.” Her face crumples. “He ended up in a ditch with his
throat slashed. Thieves weren’t responsible. Gregory still had his ring on
and a pocket full of coins. My parents are convinced the king sent royal
guards to assassinate him.”
My mind spins with Olive’s revelation. Her family believes King Xenon
killed her brother?
“I’m so sorry.” I remove the bottle of nail polish from Olive’s quivering
hands and put the contraband away. “I don’t know what to say.”
“He…he didn’t deserve that. Greg was…such a kind soul.” She drops
her face in her hands as sobs wrack her body.
I scoot closer, pulling her into a tight hug. “If he was anything like you,
I’m sure he was amazing.”
Although I don’t doubt Olive’s belief that the king ordered her brother’s
death, would he really do such a thing? The few times I’ve met him, he’s
always been kind to me. Always asked me questions about my life and
listened as if genuinely interested in the answers.
If Leesa deserted Flighthaven, would Xenon send his guards to hunt her
down? Surely not.
I shiver. None of this makes any sense.
Olive sniffles before swiping her tears away with her sleeve. “You know
what this night calls for?”
“What’s that?”
“Distraction by way of booze. Lots and lots of booze.”
I hesitate, but one more glance at Olive’s pink-rimmed eyes has me
agreeing. What I really want are answers about the king and what happens
to deserters, but that can wait. Olive needs cheering up, and I need help
figuring out how to leave campus without landing myself in a heap of
trouble.
 Two birds, one stone. I ignore the sharp stab in my gut over the idea of
taking advantage of Olive’s vulnerable state. Nothing I ask will put her at
risk. The only person who stands to get hurt by my questioning is me.
I rub her back. “A distraction sounds good. Something to take your
mind off everything tonight. Any idea where we can find alcohol?”
Pulling away, Olive exhales a hiccupping breath and jumps to her feet.
“Come with me.”
My throat tightens as I place my hand in her outstretched palm. For a
moment, I see Leesa’s face as she tugs me down the castle stairs,
persuading me into yet another game of hide and seek or spying on one of
the cute guards entertaining a lady friend in the garden. I blink, and Olive
returns, a tremulous smile on her face.
She yanks me out our door, where we narrowly miss a collision with our
third roommate. A scowling Helene tells us to watch where we’re going.
That only makes Olive giggle as she continues to tug me through the hall,
down the stairs, and onto the first floor. She pauses halfway down the first-
floor hall to knock on a door.
A disheveled Abel appears. “Ladies. How can I be of service?”
He opens the door wide enough for us to squeeze by. Olive waits for
him to shut it behind us before answering. “You still have that bottle of
whiskey?”
“Nope. We finished that off a couple weeks ago.” Olive starts to wilt.
“Luckily, my uncle sent me a new bottle in the past mail drop.”
Olive screeches and whacks him on the chest. “You jerk! You could
have led with that.”
Abel winks. “Now, what would be the fun in that?”
Nick sits up on his bed. “We drinking tonight?”
Olive nods. “Yes, please.”
Nick and Abel exchange a glance. Nick shrugs as if to say why not,
prompting Abel to grin and rummage in his armoire. He produces a large
jug of brown liquid. “Same spot as last time?”
Upon spying the jug, Olive wiggles her hips. “Works for me.”
Nick leads us out of the dorms to a small, crumbling building that I
never noticed before, situated on the far edge of the grounds. Cobwebs and
expensive but rotting furniture from an earlier era populate the interior.
Moonlight streams through the windows and missing chunks of roof.
 Eyeing the dubious stains on a torn velvet couch, I scrunch my nose.
“Wouldn’t outside be better?” Spiders don’t bother me much, but I’m pretty
sure I spy rat droppings on the floor, and I’m not a big fan of rodents. Their
pink eyes and long naked tails get to me.
“If you want us to get caught, sure.” Nick fixes me with a look that says
I’m hopeless as a badass.
“Rat hole it is.”
The others drop to the floor. After using my boot to sweep my area as
clean as possible, I sit too. Nick and Abel pull cups from their pockets. Abel
fills them with generous pours of whiskey, and Nick passes them around.
Then Nick empties his cup first in one huge gulp and holds it out for a refill.
After tasting hers, Olive screws up her face like she just stuck her hand in a
bucket of poisonous snakes.
“That good, huh?” I laugh before taking a swig of my own drink.
The liquid burns my throat, transforming my laugh into a sputtering
cough. I shiver at the bold, smoky flavor, which in my opinion isn’t quite as
terrible as eyril or my suppressant. At least the warmth in my belly balances
out the not-so-great flavor.
Soon, the whiskey loosens our tongues and we share stories. Somehow,
we latch onto the topic of past loves. Olive tells us about the first boy she
had a crush on, and how they would sneak into the forest to kiss and hold
hands. Abel waxes poetic about an apprentice baker he dated when he was
sixteen who made him blueberry muffins every week.
Not to be outdone, Nick boasts about his girlfriend’s talented mouth,
making my eyebrows shoot up and Olive screech.
I elbow him in the ribs. “Enough!”
He swivels toward me with his eyes halfway shut, his lips stretched into
a loopy grin. Between his relaxed pose and the whiskey dribbling off his
chin, he presents as decidedly un-Nick-like, and I notice that his cup is
almost empty again. “What about you? Did you fall in love with any of the
lords’ sons who came courting?”
My stomach sinks at his question. Mother didn’t introduce me to any
lords’ sons. No one ever came courting. I’ve never been in love before. At
the castle that served as my prison up until I came here, potential suitors
were in short supply.
To buy myself time, I suck down more whiskey. “My first kiss was with
the stable boy when I was twelve and he was fifteen. All I can remember is
him tasting like the grass he always chewed.” The ridiculous faces Olive
and Abel pull draw a laugh from me. “In retrospect, that doesn’t sound
nearly as appealing as I thought it was at the time.”
Olive takes a generous gulp of whiskey. Her pink cheeks and glazed
eyes suggest that the alcohol is having an impact. “What about after him?”
“After him? I set my sights on the other stable boy who ate cookies.”
Everyone laughs, and the conversation moves away from former loves.
Thankfully.
While everyone else refills their cups and grows progressively tipsier, I
nurse my drink, biding my time until I spot a lull in the discussion. ‘Hey,
why don’t we play a game? Truth or dare?”
Nick snorts so hard, he almost drops his cup. “What’s next? Musical
thrones? Pin the horn on the alicorn? Goddess says?”
Olive pokes him in the shoulder. “Hey, don’t make fun of my roomie.
She’s the best.”
She leans over to give me a hug and topples into my side. I squeeze her
back before pushing her upright again.
Abel rolls his eyes. Besides me, he’s the only one who isn’t acting
blitzed. “I’m in.”
Everyone stares at Nick. I clasp my hands in front of me and stick out
my lower lip. “Please, Nick? I’ve never played before.”
Olive’s eyes bug out. “Seriously? How could you have never played
truth or dare before?”
I fake a casual shrug. “My mother could be a little weird about who we
socialized with, so I didn’t always spend a lot of time with my peers.” Talk
about an understatement. And since Leesa and I didn’t really keep secrets
from each other, there was no point in playing back then. Now, I wonder if I
still know my sister at all.
Nick groans. “Fine, I’ll play.”
My shoulders relax a little. So far, so good.
After beaming at Nick, Olive claps her hands. “Yay. Lark, why don’t
you start? Since it was your idea and you’ve never played before.”
I tap a finger to my lips, pretending to search my brain for a suitable
question while doing my best to hide my growing nerves. “Oh, I know.
Nick, have you ever left campus without permission, or do you know of
someone who did?”
 Nick blinks. “Leave campus?” A furrow dips between his eyebrows, as
if my question doesn’t compute.
I feign a sip of whiskey to hide my grimace. His reaction leaves me
feeling less than optimistic.
Olive shakes her head. “Hells, no, none of us have snuck off campus…
because we’re not morons! And only a moron would try.”
Nick nods. “She’s right. The chances of getting caught are like, two
hundred out of ten.”
That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but I get the drift. My odds of
successfully sneaking off campus are basically non-existent. Great. Just the
news I hoped for.
Abel cocks his head to one side, regarding me with the faintest frown.
“I’ve never heard of someone even trying to leave campus without
permission.”
Dejection settles into my bones. “Not even if you somehow managed to
steal a couple tokens?”
The rule book outlined the procedure for how to request a leave of
absence from campus. After stressing that permission would only be
granted in the case of a family emergency or other extreme, extenuating
circumstances, the guidelines went on to say that any student leaving
campus must make a formal request. If granted, the student would be issued
two tokens, to be displayed at all times. One hangs around the mount’s
neck, the other around the student’s.
What the guide didn’t specify was where to obtain those tokens.
Abel guffaws. “Steal tokens? Who’s gonna steal tokens from Thorne? If
he catches you, you’re liable to lose an arm.”
My heartbeat quickens. “Thorne has them?”
“Last I heard, anyway. I guess it makes sense, since he’s in charge of the
alicorns.”
Nick chortles. “Poor alicorns. I know he’s an amazing rider and all, but
Thorne is one grumpy bastard.”
“He’s not grumpy all the time. And he’s super gentle and patient with
animals.”
I recognize my mistake too late. All three of my wide-eyed friends
swivel to gawk at me. Olive gasps, while Nick begins to sing. “Somebody
has a cru-ush!”
OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twenty-Five

Shit. I need to shut this down. Fast.

Before I can voice my protest, Olive claps her hands. “She does! She
does have a crush. I can tell.” She points at me. “Admit it. You like him.
You like our hot, cranky flight instructor.”
My face heats. “What are we, five? And please. Just because I pointed
out that Thorne takes good care of the alicorns…which is literally part of
his job, by the way…that doesn’t mean I have a crush on him. He’s my
instructor.”
My former best friend at Flighthaven scoffs. “Oh, please. As if half the
class wouldn’t climb that man like a tree if the opportunity presented itself.”
Abel raises his hand. “Sign me up.”
His comment catches me off guard. “Really? You’re into…” At the last
second, I realize the incredible rudeness of my question and switch gears.
“Uh, him?”
Mortified, I duck my head. Great. Abel probably thinks I’m one of those
people who cares if men are attracted to other men or women love other
women when nothing could be further from the truth. To me, finding
someone you adore to share your life with, someone who adores you right
back, sounds like the most wonderful thing there is. Man. Woman. Neither.
Both. I don’t care. All I know for sure is that loneliness sucks.
I breathe a relieved sigh when Abel responds without taking offense.
“Him, definitely. The grumpy bit actually kind of does it for me. And other
men…or women. Depends on the person.”
I nod. “That’s cool.”
Nick groans. “Ugh. Stop. The guy sucks. Though you might be onto
something. Maybe if he spent less time sleeping in the stable with the
alicorns and more time getting laid, he’d remember how to smile.”
Olive winks. “Oh, please. Have you seen the way Instructor x salivates
over him? I’m sure that man’s getting plenty of action.”
I hate how her statement prompts me to suck in a pained breath. I loathe
the idea of Thorne and her rolling around naked in bed together even more.
Digging my nails into my palm, I force myself to focus. Thorne’s
nighttime activities are none of my concern. I have more important things to
worry about than who my hot flight instructor likes to play hide the sausage
with. “So you think he keeps the tokens in that room?”
“Probably.” Nick frowns. “These are kind of weird questions for truth or
dare. Usually it’s stuff like, ‘what’s your most embarrassing moment ever,’
or ‘who on campus do you want to bang.’”
Nope. No way in hells will I be answering that last one. I figure, until I
verbally admit my attraction to Thorne, I can retain plausible deniability.
“My bad. I told you I’ve never played before.”
Based on Abel’s narrowed eyes, I’m not sure my innocent expression
has fooled anyone. Luckily, Nick jumps in before I squirm too much.
“Olive, truth or dare?”
I wait another round before whispering in Olive’s ear. Then wait an
additional two rounds for Olive to point at me. “This time, I’ll take dare.”
Nick whoops. Olive claps. Abel sips his whiskey, far too sober for
comfort.
Oh, well. Too late to worry about that now. Facing Olive, I pray she
remembers what I told her a few rounds ago.
At first, she hems and haws, and my shoulders sink. In the next breath,
she brightens and cackles. “Oh, I’ve got a good one! Lark, your dare is to
sneak into Sterling Hottie-Pants Thorne’s room and steal one of those off-
campus tokens.”
With an animated gasp, I do my best to feign shock. “What? Are you
nuts?”
A swaying Nick grins. “What’s the matter, Axton? Are you chicken?”
He tucks his hands into his armpits and flaps his elbows, clucking and
scratching at the ground with his boot.
 After dissolving into a fit of giggles, Olive throws back her head and
yodels. “Cock-a-doodle-do!”
Aclaris’s finest right here, ladies and gentlemen. If this is all that’s
standing between our kingdom and the Tirenese, we might be screwed.
Abel shakes his head. “This is just plain sad.”
“Agreed.” I huff out a laugh. “But fine, I’ll do it.”
While far from foolproof, using our little game of truth and dare as a
cover story if Thorne catches me in the act is better than nothing.
“Go on then.” Nick shoos me away. “You don’t have all night.”
“Okay. Here I go.”
Olive gives me a drunken wave. “Don’t get caught.”
When I glance at Abel, he winks. “And if you do, just tell him you came
for a good dicking down.”
I splutter while Olive busts out laughing. Abel and Nick both shush her.
“You guys are the worst,” I hiss.
With Abel’s comment ringing in my head and a mild but pleasant
whiskey buzz injecting me with liquid courage, I leave the building and
head toward the alicorn stable. My trek across the grounds proves
uneventful, the few recruits I pass paying me no attention.
Once there, I peek inside the door, my eyes taking a moment to adjust to
the dim lights. A shiny black alicorn in a stall near the entrance lifts its
head, ears swiveling toward me and nostrils flaring.
Swallowing hard, I creep into the building. With no sign of Thorne, I
head to the far end of the stable, searching for the room Nick and Abel
described.
Just like they said, I find the place past a row of stalls. Despite my daily
training sessions and flight lessons, I’ve never paid much attention to the
plain, unassuming door that I figured led to some sort of storage space or
supply area.
With a deep breath, I perform another quick scan. What if Thorne’s
inside?
Only one way to find out.
Steeling my courage, I give a soft knock and wait. No answer. I tap on
the door again and press my ear to the wood.
No response.
Fingers trembling, I reach for the handle. It turns with no resistance, and
the door opens with only the tiniest creak. A weak light illuminates the
small space. Head buzzing, I tiptoe inside, hardly daring to breathe.
Thorne’s lingering scent draws me into the sparse, functional room.
Pushed against the right wall is a small, neatly made cot. A bedside table
with a lantern on top occupies a spot near the pillow. On the opposite side
of the room stands a small desk and chair, with a single shelf laden with
books above the desk. A worn wooden armoire is tucked away in the rear
left corner.
Thanks to Thorne’s orderliness, the search progresses with ease. I make
quick work of the desk, bedside table, and cot but find nothing. I move to
the armoire next.
Through the cracked right door, a silver glimmer catches my eye.
Heart pounding, I push the door open wider. A small metal box sits on
an interior shelf, the contents spilling out from the open lid. Silver, gold,
and bronze coins…thin silver chains. Cream-colored papers sealed with
wax bearing some kind of crest.
Peering closer, I discover the silver chains aren’t chains at all, but
ribbons threaded through tiny holes in the bronze coins. Some appear long
enough to wrap around an alicorn’s neck. Sure enough, when I pick one up,
I spot the word Flighthaven stamped into the metal. Score.
Quickly pocketing two, my attention snags on the papers. What could
those be? Curious, I stroke the thick parchment with my fingertips.
A hand clamps down on my shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing
in my room?”
Air punches from my lungs. This is bad. Very, very bad. I’m going to be
in so much trouble.
Nerves mix with the heady feeling from the alcohol as I whirl to face
Instructor Thorne. “I…” The words die on my lips.
He’s shirtless, a pair of loose black pants slung low over his hips.
Holy hells.
Heat engulfs me, torching my throat and blazing a trail down to my
lower belly. This time, I don’t think I can blame the burn on the whiskey.
Underneath his bronzed skin, honed muscles ripple, displaying every
hard plane and line of his body. The faded scars painting his chest and
stomach add to his appeal. Two lines near his hips form cut in to form a V
shape and dip below his waistband. I follow the trajectory of those lines,
swallowing hard. He’s…absolutely magnificent.
“Axton. I asked you a question.”
 My head jerks up. “I…um…you did?”
A hint of amusement flits across his face. “I’ll ask you again. What are
you doing in the room at this time of night?”
Oh. Right. That question.
Instead of a suitable response, Abel’s voice echoes in my mind. I try to
snuff it out and end up pleading with myself.
Oh, gods, no. Do not say dicking down. Repeat, do no say dicking down.
Perspiration dots my scalp as I fumble for an excuse. What’s my cover
story again? The answer evades me thanks to Thorne’s half-dressed state
scrambling my brain. Since my thoughts refuse to cooperate, I blurt out the
next thing that pops in my head. “I was going for a walk…and I thought I’d
visit the alicorns.”
Immediately, I want to go back in time and shove a gag in my mouth.
You? Visit the alicorns, in the middle of the night no less? I suppress a
groan at my pitiful explanation.
“Right.” Thorne’s mouth tips up in a smirk. “Because you’re so fond of
them.”
I cast a longing glance at the door. “I never said I wasn’t fond of them.”
“Pretty certain that was exactly what you meant when you fainted and
later bailed from Zephyr’s back. And that still doesn’t explain why you’re
in my room.”
“Um.” My attention drifts back to his sculpted abdominals, and I lose
my train of thought. “Well, I⁠—”
“Have you been drinking?” Thorne inches closer, dipping his face
toward mine and sniffing. “You have.”
I must have ingested more alcohol than I realized, because something is
messing with my head. It’s definitely not the so-sexy-it-should-be-illegal
instructor’s nearness.
Say yes. Tell him you’re drunk and then run away.
Instead, I tilt my chin up, standing on my toes to whisper in his ear.
“There’s only one way for you to know for sure.”
He jolts when my lips brush the shell of his ear, and my breath catches
in my throat.
Did I really just say that?
Thorne rears back like I’ve burned him, his dark gaze full of shadows
and desire.
I lick my lips, and he groans. My stomach dips at the hungry noise.
 For a small eternity, we stand there staring at each other, neither of us
moving or saying a word.
Thorne breaks the silence first. “We can’t do this.”
“I know.”
“This is a terrible idea.”
“The worst.”
I wet my lips again, and he releases a ragged breath. “Fuck it.”
Before I comprehend what’s happening, he winds my braid around his
fist and tugs, yanking my head back.
And then his mouth slams into mine.
There are a thousand reasons why this is a bad idea, but the moment our
lips touch, I don’t care about a single one.
Thorne cups my chin, angling my head to deepen the kiss. I savor the
taste of him. The sensation of his hard body pushing against mine. The
delicious heat radiating from his skin.
I gasp as he presses closer against me, my lips parting as he cradles my
neck. With expert strokes, he explores my mouth with his tongue,
devouring me like he’s starving and I’m his only sustenance.
He tastes like danger and whiskey, and I can’t tell if he’s been drinking
too. Reaching up, I run my fingers through hair every bit as soft and silky as
it looks.
This is utter insanity. And I never want it to end.
Something raw and primitive rises inside me. I skim my tongue over his
bottom lip, then draw it into my mouth and gently bite down. He groans
again, cupping my ass and tugging me so close that there’s no space
between us.
Pleasure coils low in my belly. I grind my pelvis against him, and his
hips rock into me as he kisses me harder. A moan escapes me. I lower my
hands to his shoulders, my fingers tracing the curves and dips of his back.
Thorne stills under my touch. In the next heartbeat, he jerks away,
retreating until he’s no longer within reach. I instantly miss the warmth of
him. The demanding press of his lips on mine.
Cursing, he rakes a hand through his hair.
I know I should regret what we did, but no part of me does. Not in the
slightest. Kissing him was reckless and forbidden, and I could get in all
kinds of trouble for doing so. We both could.
And I’d still do it again in a second.
 “This was a mistake.” He clenches his jaw, and a hardness creeps into
his features. “It will never happen again.”
The words pummel me. I do everything in my power not to flinch.
His hot one minute, cold the next act gives me whiplash.
I struggle to keep the hurt from my voice. “It didn’t feel like a mistake
to me.”
“Well, that’s exactly what it was. You just caught me in a moment of…
weakness.”
Anger replaces the hurt, and my temperature begins to rise. “You were
the one who came in here like…like this.” I gesture to his bare torso.
He raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Half-naked.” Despite the heat creeping up my neck, I meet his gaze.
“It’s my room. And you were the last person I expected to find in here.
So you’re going to tell me, Duchess,” he levels me with a steely glare,
“what you were doing in my room in the middle of the night.”
Right. I did sort of barge into his private space. Uninvited. But how can
I tell him why I was sneaking around in his room?
Once again, Abel’s advice taunts me, and once again, I push the thought
away. Maybe pretending like I snuck in hoping to get lucky is the smart
move, but my pride refuses to go there. Not after he just finished saying that
kissing me was a terrible mistake.
Exhaling, I settle on telling him a partial truth. “We were playing a
drinking game, and I was dared to come in here. That’s all.” When he says
nothing, I ramble on. “I never would have come in here otherwise. I swear.”
“I see.”
Having no idea what else to say, I start to head for the door. Two steps
away from freedom, I spin to face him. “Do you think the king would send
his men to assassinate someone for defecting?”
His forehead creases in surprise but really, he can’t be more surprised
than me. I have no idea where that came from.
Thorne doesn’t speak for several moments, his expression unreadable.
“You would be shocked at the awful things a king orders his people to do.”
“Why, though? Why would he do anything like that?” I shake my head.
“He’s always been good to my family.”
Thorne’s face darkens with anger, and he narrows his eyes. “Thank you
for that reminder.”
“Wait, what?”
 Grabbing my arm, he half drags me toward the door. “And should you
get the notion to hook up with someone, I suggest you go find a fellow
recruit.” He opens the door. “Because I’m not on the menu.”
Fury burns inside me. I want to punch the condescending look off of his
beautiful face. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re the last person I want to hook
up with.”
“Could’ve fooled me five minutes ago.” Lip curling into a sneer, he
gives me a shove and closes the door.
Seething, I take off for the dorm without glancing back. Good riddance.
No one in their right mind would want to kiss such an obnoxious,
egotistical bonehead.
My stinging eyes, though, tell a different story.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twenty-Six

While I kick off the next morning with a mild headache, Olive’s pained
moan when Helene draws the curtains open to let sunlight stream in
suggests she’s suffering through a much worse hangover. She stumbles out
of bed for the bathroom, still reeking of whiskey. I’m about to offer her
some sympathy when realization dawns on me.
Both my roommates are up. Along with the sun.
I’ve overslept and missed my private flight training session.
Thorne’s going to strangle me.
I whip off the covers to hop out of bed but sag back into the mattress.
Even if I hurry, there’s no time to train. Not if I want breakfast. And after
last night, I don’t know if I’m up to facing him this morning, anyway.
The memory of him glaring and telling me to find someone else to hook
up with because he’s not on the menu makes me want to crawl into my
armoire and never come out. Since that’s not an option, I follow Olive into
the showers and get dressed for class.
During weapons training, one of Mark and Elijah’s cronies accidentally
stabs Olive’s hand with the business end of a dagger. When I lose my
temper and yell that I’d like to accidentally separate his head from his neck,
our instructor orders me to walk it off by escorting Olive to the infirmary.
Funny. With all the anxiety I harbored about Flighthaven prior to my
arrival, I never once worried about intentional attacks by classmates. At the
moment, that seems to be the biggest threat.
 Thanks to my decision that morning to reduce my usual amount of
remedy, my performance in magic improves. My fireballs expand in size
and power, and I even produce a mini fire tornado in the palm of my hand.
Resnick offers me an encouraging nod.
Torno, who’s observing today, frowns. “Are you sure you’re taking the
correct dosage of eyril, Lark? Your power level is still pretty weak.”
I grit my teeth at the nearby snickers. Please, say it louder so the
assholes in the back can hear.
“Yes.” Since eyril doesn’t work on me and also causes me nausea, is my
answer really a lie? Either way, I avoid eye contact.
As if that’s not bad enough, a familiar figure enters the arena and stalks
toward me. “Fledgling Axton!”
Oh, boy. Angry doesn’t even begin to describe Instructor Thorne’s
expression right now.
He’s livid.
A muscle ticks in his jaw. His mouth sets in a hard line. His dark hair,
free of its usual leather cord, blows around his face in the light breeze.
Something about his fierceness reminds me of the painting of Zeru, God of
the Heavens, that hangs on the wall in the library of my mother’s castle.
Other fledglings take one glimpse of the storm cloud that is his face and
scurry out of his path. From a safe distance, they shoot not-so-surreptitious
glances our way, as if anticipating the wrath Thorne’s about to unleash.
Wise choice. If I could scurry away, I would. Alas, Mr. Stormy is
headed right for me.
He stops a few paces away. Muscular legs planted shoulder-width apart.
Thick arms crossed over his chest. “You missed our meeting this morning.
Why?”
Irritation simmers in my blood. He could have caught me after class
instead of calling me out in front of everyone. But of course, he has to make
a point.
I bite back a disrespectful comment. “It wasn’t intentional.”
He studies me with cool appraisal. “Is that so?” One dark eyebrow lifts
in challenge, leaving little doubt that he believes I bailed because of his
rejection.
Ugh. So humiliating.
“Yes, sir, that’s so.” As much as I’d like to tell him to kiss my ass, I
know better than to let my temper run wild in front of another instructor and
dozens of peers. “I overslept.”
“Oh?” A ghost of a smirk plays at his lips. “And why is that?”
He knows very well why.
My ire kicks up a notch. I hope he reads the silent message in my eyes
urging him to take a long, painful, one-way trip to one of the three hells.
“Because I’m exhausted from all the training I’m doing to catch up.” No
way in this realm will I admit to being such a whiskey lightweight. “On top
of that, I had to deal with an obnoxious asshole last night, which probably
didn’t help.”
Beside me, Olive’s jaw falls open, and Abel launches into a coughing
fit. I ignore them both.
Thorne’s lips twitch, almost as if he’s suppressing a smile. He covers his
mouth with his palm, leaving me to wonder if I imagined the act. “You blew
off this morning’s meeting because you were too tired? What are you going
to do if you get tired during battle? Take a nap?”
Several fledglings cackle as Instructor Kinneck strides up. “Is
everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine.” Thorne’s attention never strays from me. “Just
dealing with an insubordinate student.”
Insubordinate? “I’d hardly call oversleeping insubordinate…sir.”
This time, when I emphasize sir in that mocking tone, Thorne’s nostrils
flare. His eyes rake over my body before fixating on my face like a
predator’s. “If you can’t manage to get your lazy ass out of bed on time,
how do you expect to excel in your training?”
This would be a good time to exercise caution, but I’m far too pissed.
Lazy ass? Lazy ass? He knows that’s bullshit. Since my first day at
Flighthaven, I’ve done nothing but bust my butt.
With superhuman effort, I summon a sweet smile. “Why, I figured I’d
just follow some good advice and find some other fledgling to help me.”
After tossing his words from last night back in his face, I loop my arm
through Olive’s. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Olive’s looking a little pale, so
I’m taking her to the infirmary to get a tonic for the pain.”
I’m not lying. Olive really doesn’t look so hot, though I can’t deny I’m
happy for any reason to escape Thorne. Several pairs of eyes follow us as
we exit the arena.
Olive waits until we’re out of earshot before she presses. “What was
that all about, with you and Thorne? Did something happen last night?” She
holds up a palm. “No, wait. Tell me later, when I’m not feeling like I’m
about to die.”
The medic gives her a pain tonic and then changes her bandage, which
somehow got dirty over the course of the day. Before he finishes, Olive falls
asleep on one of the cots. His promise to keep an eye on her leaves me with
some time to kill. There’s no way I’m going back to magic class for round
two with Thorne, so I wander outside. Before I know it, my feet lead me to
the dragon aerie.
The same guard from the day before stands watch. I honestly don’t
realize I have an agenda until the words pour out of my mouth. “Hi,
remember me? I was here yesterday with Instructor Thorne and believe he
dropped something. I was hoping I could run in super quick to search? I
promise I won’t be very long.”
My attempt at a flirtatious smile must suck, because the guard shakes
his head. “Not without an instructor.”
“What about instructor permission? Isn’t that good enough?”
“No.”
I let my shoulders droop and exhale an exaggerated sigh. “See, I told
Thorne that, but you know how he is, and he’s in a real mood this
afternoon. He gave me a look like he was envisioning my skull exploding
like a ripe melon…you know the kind I’m talking about…and then told me
in that icy tone of his that if I or the guard decide to waste his valuable time
and make him come over himself, he’ll be happy to deal with us. Of course,
he said deal like he meant kill…but I’m sure it’ll be fine if I go get him.
Right?”
One second passes. Two. The guard opens the oversized door and
moves to the side. “Make it quick.”
“You’re a lifesaver!”
Hurrying into the dim interior, some subconscious urge leads me past
the cold storage area and toward the dragon pens. I’m not even sure what
I’m doing in the aerie, but now that I’m here, I need to see the dragons.
As I draw closer, unease crawls down my spine. This strange sensation
—almost like a brushing against my mind—comes and goes, growing
stronger one moment and disappearing the next.
The feeling freaks me out a little, but I’m probably just paranoid and
exhausted. Between my classes, early morning training sessions, and
scaling back on my magic suppressing dosage, it’s a logical explanation.
 Despite my jitters, curiosity drives me forward. I creep closer to the
enclosure and stop between the first two cells. Like yesterday, my heart
clenches over the visual proof of the dragons’ maltreatment. Just the sight
of these cramped prisons for such large beasts stokes my desire to howl and
slam the walls until they collapse. Anything to stop these dragons from
being so trapped.
Swallowing the knot in my throat, I wait for my inner turbulence to
subside and peer between the iron bars.
Predatory golden eyes gaze back at me.
I retreat a step. The black dragon tracks my movement, and a loud
snuffling noise escapes the iron muzzle imprisoning its mouth. I get the
impression he’s taking in my scent.
My pulse stutters. Standing perfectly still, I lower my gaze, not wanting
to set him off by staring him in the eye. Without warning, a riot of dark
emotions slams into me, driving me to my knees. Terror, anguish, pain…so
much pain. I try to rise, but I can’t move.
My vision dims, and frigid darkness threatens to envelop me. Fighting
as hard as I can, I claw my way toward a clear head.
The darkness tugs harder.
As my vision continues to fade, fear morphs into panic. I’m not sure
what’s happening, only that my emotions feel out of control, like a wildfire
in a drought-deadened field. If I don’t rein them in, I’m scared they’ll
consume me from the inside out.
I drag air into my lungs. Calm. I need to find my inner calm. If I want to
banish the darkness trying to hijack my brain, I need to ground myself.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I recall everything that brings me joy.
Sunshine filtering through the clouds. A soft breeze fluttering through my
hair. My sister’s laughter as she stuffs a stolen cookie into her mouth. A pair
of gold-flecked eyes turning molten before warm lips collide with mine.
Relief. Finally. The treacherous darkness surrounding me lightens, then
retreats as fast as it came. With a trembling body, I rise to my feet.
The dragon slow blinks once before butting his head against the bars.
He snorts, twin puffs of steam curling from his nostrils. My brain must still
be a little woozy because his eyes have changed somehow. Become less
tortured. More luminous.
Palm up, I ease my hand forward. The dragon lowers his head like he’s
giving me permission to touch him. With measured movement, I stroke his
scaly nose. He exhales again in a sound reminiscent of a sigh.
I continue petting his muzzle. I’m so sorry you’re here. You deserve to
be free.
An odd tickling sensation prickles between my ears. The dragon blinks
twice, shakes his dark head, and backs away from the bars.
All of a sudden, my muscles turn limp, like someone poked holes into
my body and sucked the energy right out of them. I stagger before regaining
my balance. As quickly as I can, I retreat. I burst outside and blow right by
the guard, not slowing until I’m a good distance away, drained and fending
off a worsening headache.
“Everything okay, Fledging Axton?”
I whirl around to face Vice Commander Torno. I was so wrapped up in
getting back to the dorm that I didn’t even notice her. Let’s hope she didn’t
spot me come out of the aerie alone. “I just have a headache. Gonna go lie
down for a bit.”
She nods as I retreat. I’m grateful she didn’t pepper me with questions
because I have no logical explanation for what I was doing near the dragon
enclosure or what transpired there.
Back in my empty room, I collapse on the bed, willing the quiet to still
my racing thoughts.
What just happened? Is all the stress messing with my sanity?
I know one thing for sure…I need to get out of this place, if only for a
little while. A break from Flighthaven will help clear my head.
Reaching beneath the mattress, my fingers find the smooth surface of
the tokens I liberated from Thorne’s room.
Tonight. I have to go tonight.
Voices echo in the hall. Class must be out. Sitting up, I scrub my palms
over my face and mentally prepare myself to act normal and get through
dinner.

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 Chapter Twenty-Seven

As silently as possible, I strap a dagger to my thigh and don my heavy black

cloak. I poke my hand into the pocket, ensuring the leather pouch of coins
is still safely stashed where I put it earlier. Both tokens dangle from the
ribbons I looped around my neck, hidden beneath my shirt.
With one last glance at my sleeping roommates, I ease open the door
and peek down the hallway. Once I’m certain no one’s watching, I steal
toward the alicorn stable. Curfew already came and went, but no one
intercepts me on the way. Even if they did, Abel told me that first-time
offenders just get sent back to the dorms with a warning. My jittery nerves
don’t seem to get the message.
I creep inside the dim structure, my eyes taking a moment to adjust.
The door to Thorne’s room is closed. I send up a silent prayer that he’s
in his instructor quarters instead. Or a heavy sleeper.
With measured steps, I head toward Zephyr’s stall. Though I probably
woke him up, he’s on high alert when I reach him, ears pricked forward.
He snorts in greeting, and the alicorn in the adjoining stall lets out a
high-pitched whinny.
“Shhh. We’ve got to be quiet.” I keep my voice low as I rub Zephyr’s
silvery nose. “And…I’m going to need a huge favor.”
Saddling him in the dark takes a small eternity, but I manage the job
without making too much noise. Before leading the alicorn outside, I give
the place one last cursory glance and breathe a sigh of relief. No guards in
sight. No grumpy flight instructor ready to rip my head off either. Just a
barn full of sleepy alicorns.
Outside, I try to work up the nerve to mount the massive creature. This
all sounded feasible in theory. Borrow an alicorn. Fly to Royce. Return and
slip back into bed before anyone notices I’m gone. Now that the moment of
truth has arrived, though, the flying part of my plan churns my stomach.
“You can do this.” Though the words are more for me than for Zephyr, I
keep my voice soft and soothing as I pat his neck. “We’ll stay low to the
ground. And we’ll be back before anyone misses us.” I take a deep breath
and ease myself into the saddle. “Ready?”
A lazy drawl interrupts my monologue. “Nice pep talk. Truly
inspirational.”
I freeze as Sterling Thorne emerges from the shadows. “What are you
doing here?”
“What am I doing outside the alicorn stable? The place where I often
work and sleep? Do you really need me to answer that?” I shake my head as
he reaches Zephyr’s side. “Don’t let me interrupt…whatever it is you’re
doing.”
The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. My lips part, but I can’t form any
words.
He wraps his hand around the reins. “I think this just might be the first
time I’ve seen you speechless.”
“I…” I what? Don’t mind me. I was just sneaking out for a late-night
flight?
“You know,” he tilts his head, “this is starting to become a habit.”
“What is?”
His smile widens as he gestures toward the building. “Your nighttime
visits. Sneaking around.”
Irritation ripples through me. “I wasn’t sneaking.”
“Then please enlighten me. What would you call it?”
“I was just, uh…going to practice with Zephyr.”
“In the middle of the night?” He leans in and inhales. “Have you been
drinking again?”
“No! Of course not.”
“All right. No need to get defensive. It was a legitimate question after…
well, you know.” He pauses, but when I stay silent, he continues. “So tell
me, what were you really doing out here? And don’t lie. I know you stole
two tokens from my room.”
I don’t bother arguing. We’re wasting valuable time, and I see no way
around admitting the truth to Thorne. “Okay,” I take a breath and try to
steady my nerves, “I might as well tell you. I was going to take Zephyr on a
little flight, um…home.” When his jaw drops, my explanation tumbles from
my mouth. “Just for tonight! We were going to turn right around and come
back.”
Incredulity crosses his features. “You’re serious. You were actually
going to attempt this reckless plan.” He scrubs a hand over his face, his jaw
muscle twitching. “What in the hells were you thinking?”
I knew it was only a matter of time before that calm charade of his
shattered.
“Yes, I’m serious.” The words come out a hiss. “Believe me, I know the
risks. I just⁠—”
“Oh, do you?” He yanks me from the saddle, holding me tight even
after my boots hit the dirt. “Fuck, Lark, you’ve never even been on a solo
flight before. You’ve never even been more than ten feet off the ground!”
Anger surges through my veins as my entire body tingles with
awareness. “I’m well aware.”
“Why?” His throat works on a swallow. “Just tell me what possessed
you to sneak out, tack up an alicorn, and risk your life. What’s so important
to you?”
I angle my head away and study the ground. “You wouldn’t
understand.”
“Try me.” He cups my jaw and brings it back so he can look me in the
eye.
“People are depending on me.” I squeeze my eyes shut, a lump forming
in my throat at the thought of so many people without food. “I help with a
food pantry, and I got a letter today. There was a fire, and,” when I open my
eyes, the fury on his face has faded, “they need my help.”
I leave out the part about the book. An explanation for that would take
too long, and this is a longshot anyway. If Thorne mocked me over how far-
fetched my hope is that the book will lead me to Leesa, I might actually get
arrested for kicking an instructor’s balls into his throat.
Several seconds pass as Thorne says nothing.
 I clear my throat. “You were right. It’s a reckless plan, but I can’t let
those children…any of those people…go hungry.”
Still silent, he releases me and motions toward Zephyr.
Is he mocking me? “I don’t understand.”
“I’ve done some shitty things in my life.” He works the muscle in his
jaw. “But I’m not going to add to that list tonight. Get on.”
My own jaw drops. “Really? You’re…going to help me?”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t sound so shocked, Duchess. Who am I to deny
hungry children food? Besides, you can make up for missing your lesson
this morning.” He motions toward Zephyr again. “Now get on. We don’t
have all night.”
Amazed at the outcome of this conversation, I put my left boot in the
stirrup and swing my right leg over the saddle. Before I can get
comfortable, he vaults onto Zephyr behind me.
I sit up straight, trying not to wiggle as his hard body presses up against
me. “What should I hold onto?”
“Either Zephyr’s mane or the pommel.” He reaches around me and
picks up the reins, encircling my waist with his other arm. “Don’t worry. I
won’t let you fall.”
“For some reason, I’m not so sure about that.” The words spill from my
lips before I can stop them.
He’s actually helping you, and you just keep baiting him. Perfect.
“You wound me.”
I snort. Although I can’t see his face, I can practically hear his smirk.
“Please.”
With a soft chuckle, Thorne nudges Zephyr into a brisk walk. “Ready?”
“I am.” I suck in a breath, nerves fluttering in my belly like tiny
butterflies. “And I promise to behave. For the rest of the night, at least.”
With that, Zephyr’s off, rising off the ground with a powerful flap of his
silvery wings. My stomach dips as we rise higher and higher, and I squeeze
Thorne’s arm like my life depends on it.
He tightens his grip on my waist. “If you wanted to hold my hand so
badly, why didn’t you just say so?”
I release a shaky laugh. “You wish.” This man is full of contradictions,
riling me up one minute and putting me at ease the next.
“You can relax, you know. If you sit that stiff the whole time, you’re
going to have quite the backache later.”
 Funny. Now that he mentions it, I notice my back already hurts a little.
The pain feels less like muscle soreness and more like sharp tingling near
my shoulder blades, as if I’m being stabbed by a hundred tiny needles.
I roll my shoulders, hoping the movement will banish the unpleasant
sensation. Pain is the only reason I let my back melt into his chest and allow
his warmth to seep through my cloak. I definitely, one hundred percent,
absolutely do not use my flight instructor as a personal pillow because I
want to be closer to him.
That’s the story I tell myself, anyway.
“Isn’t that better?”
“Mm-hmm.”
For a few minutes, we’re quiet as Zephyr flaps his powerful wings.
Chilly wind whips across my face, tugging strands loose from my braid. To
my surprise, I’m not afraid. Quite the opposite. For the first time, I’m
discovering the exhilaration of flying. It’s like I was made for this.
“You okay?” Thorne’s deep rumble pulls me back to reality.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?” He gives me a gentle squeeze. “Because you’re awfully
quiet. And that’s not like you.”
“Just enjoying the flight.” I twist around to catch a glimpse of his face
under the starlight, a little surprised to find genuine concern there. “You act
like I talk nonstop.”
“Wellll,” he draws out the word, “you do sometimes. Especially when
you’re pissed and hurling insults.”
I flash him a sugary sweet smile. “Maybe if you weren’t such a hard-ass
all the time, I wouldn’t be pissed.”
Thorne tsks and shakes his head. “And here I thought you promised to
behave.”
I roll my eyes, then twist back around to face forward. “Oh, please. If I
were misbehaving, you’d be the first to know.”
He barks a laugh, and I can’t help but think that he doesn’t do so nearly
enough. “Noted. Now tell me where this friend of yours lives.”
After I give him directions, a comfortable silence ensues for a while.
Thorne traces slow, small circles on my belly, a shivery sensation radiating
from his fingers. I don’t even know if he’s aware, but I sure am.
A sharp warmth settles low in my stomach as heat creeps up my neck
and into my face. I’ve never been more thankful to be facing away from
him.
As we near the village of Beckkerun, Thorne banks Zephyr to the left.
At the sudden move, my stomach drops. I clutch his arm again, and he
offers me a squeeze in response.
“Where exactly is he in Beckkerun?”
I focus on his nearness and not our height. “A half mile away from the
constable station, near the church.”
The silvery moonlight bathing the village helps me recognize the
buildings below. Nearby, scattered houses with thatched roofs, sagging mud
frames, and small gardens dot the landscape.
When we approach the town proper, roofs with clay shingles
predominate, indicating wealth from either the merchant class or minor
nobles. Government buildings constructed of stone appear milky under the
moon, the same as the church. In the far distance, Aclaris’s lone mountain
range rises. Much closer is Castle Axton.
I wait for a nostalgic pang at seeing my childhood home, but the
emotion doesn’t come. All I crave now is freedom.
“See those buildings to the left with the clay shingles?” I point below.
“Beyond them are smaller structures, though not as worn as the peasants’
houses we passed.” Royce may be a merchant, but according to him and
how he described his home, he’s not as well-off as most. “The fifth one
down is my friend’s house.”
Sterling directs Zephyr to that area and lands him in Royce’s grassy
front yard.
After we dismount, Thorne secures Zephyr to a tree and gives his
shoulder a friendly pat.
My chilled cheeks warm, and my pulse quickens. His mood changes,
growing more intense. After a moment, he rests his hand on my arm,
keeping me close.
Everything within me flutters, sending my pulse into a reckless sprint,
urging me to focus on him alone…his expressive brown eyes, strong jaw,
perfectly sculptured nose, silky hair…
An expectant sigh parts my lips.
His gaze drops to them, the air surrounding us electrifying. I wonder if,
like me, he’s remembering last night’s kiss.
A loud creak interrupts the moment.
Flinching, I look over.
 Royce exits his house, the lantern he holds near his head capturing the
way his lined face slackens. His startled gaze jumps from Zephyr to Thorne
to me.
“Lady Lark?”
I smile at the shock in his voice, wondering if Royce has ever seen an
alicorn up close. Or ever expected me to arrive in his front yard wearing
Flighthaven gear.
“Hello, Royce. I got your letter.” I gesture between Thorne and me.
“And we’re here to help with the food pantry.”

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 Chapter Twenty-Eight

Once Royce stops gaping, he excuses himself to tell his wife he’s going out.
A few minutes later, he returns. “Why don’t we talk at the tavern? I
have a shed with a few stalls around back. We can put your…alicorn,” he
nods at Zephyr, “in there. There’s plenty of hay.”
“Thank you. I’m sure he would like that.” I rub Zephyr’s neck, glad
he’ll have hay to munch on while we speak with Royce. The alicorn
certainly deserves it.
After Royce shoos some chickens out of the way, he tosses an armful of
hay on the ground. Thorne unbridles Zephyr before securing him in the
enclosure.
Raucous laughter spills from the rustic tavern as we approach. Inside,
flickering torches light the main room, casting shadows on the rough-hewn
wooden tables and benches. The thick air carries the scent of cheap liquor
and roasted meat.
The patrons are both men and women, some cloaked to conceal their
identities. Around the cozy space, at least half a dozen card games are in
progress. A chorus of shouts and whistles erupts when one man wins a
round.
Royce leads us to a table in the back, nodding to a few men as he
passes. He gestures for us to sit, and I slide onto the bench first. Thorne
takes a seat next to me while Royce heads to the bar to get our drinks.
 A few tables away, a young woman with a low-cut scarlet gown and lips
painted to match sits atop a man’s lap. Her companion whispers something
in her ear as his thumb skims across the underside of her breast. She arches
her back, blond curls cascading down her shoulders as she giggles. I can’t
wrench my eyes away as the man’s hand trails up the woman’s bare leg and
vanishes under her skirt.
What would Thorne do if I climbed into his lap like that? Would he
protest, or would he engage in scandalous activities?
I picture us sitting there instead. My temperature spikes. Beneath the
table, Thorne’s thigh presses against mine as he leans down. “It’s not polite
to stare.”
My face burns, and my gaze snaps to his. “I know. Sorry, I⁠—”
“I’m only teasing.” I could get lost in his throaty laugh. “I doubt they’re
very aware of their surroundings at the moment.”
“Oh.” I twist my hands in my lap, fighting the desire to pull my hood
over my head and hide my face.
“That’s twice tonight.”
“What?”
“That’s the second time you’ve been speechless. And I find it rather
adorable.”
I draw my eyebrows together. “Why would you find that…adorable?”
He shrugs. “You just look so innocent when you’re at a loss for words.
It’s endearing.”
Innocent? Endearing? He’s describing a five-year-old girl. My nose
wrinkles. “You’re ridiculous.”
He grins, the gesture softening the angles of his handsome face. “Tell
me something. Did you come here often before you started at Flighthaven?”
“No. This is actually my first time.”
“Let me guess. A place like this is too crude and boisterous for your…
delicate sensibilities.” The words echo what he’d said on my first day at
Flighthaven, but this time, they hold no malice.
I snort. “Hate to disappoint you, but I am not delicate.” How do I
explain I wasn’t allowed to go, well, anywhere? “And I…my mother
wouldn’t let me come…here.”
“Ah, well, you’re here now. So what do you think?”
My gaze flicks to the scantily clad woman. The man’s hand is hidden
under her dress, moving in slow circles between her thighs.
 My gods.
Thorne follows my gaze and clears his throat. “Well?”
“It’s…educational.” The words squeak out as warmth floods my face
again.
Before I have a chance to say anything that will further embarrass me,
Royce arrives with our drinks.
“Would you care for an ale, Lady Lark?”
“I’d love one. Thank you.”
He sets the frosty mug in front of me, then hands one to Thorne as he
sits and claims the last one for himself.
Thorne nods his thanks, raising the glass to his lips and taking a
measured drink. “Careful, it’s strong. Wouldn’t want you to find yourself in
a compromising situation. Another one, anyway.”
Now I’m definitely thinking about last night’s kiss. From the way his
gaze flares with heat, he is too.
I take a sip of my ale and focus on Royce. “Tell us about the fire. Do
you know what caused it?”
The amusement in his eyes fades, and his shoulders sag. “I think it was
set. Vegetable and fruit merchants don’t like me giving away what they
want someone to pay for.”
I make a face. “That’s ridiculous. How can these people without enough
money to eat pay? Especially with the recent shortages driving the prices
up? Do you know which merchant may have set the blaze?”
He offers a bitter laugh. “Even if I did, I can’t be certain they acted
alone. The constables could’ve been in on the fire too.”
A gulp of ale does little to smother my outrage. “So now they’re helping
merchants break the law?”
“I don’t know, but they do keep showing up, wanting me to pay them to
protect the place from the merchants.” He sighs. “I barely make enough to
buy the food. How am I supposed to pay them on top of that?”
“It’s senseless. And you shouldn’t have to. But please don’t worry.” I
pull the leather pouch from my cloak, then reach across the table and
deposit the bundle into Royce’s weathered hand. “I brought enough coin
tonight to keep the food pantry going for quite some time.”
Royce’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he speaks. “Bless
you. I can never thank you enough.”
 As usual, the appreciation has me squirming. Especially since I’m doing
the bare minimum. “No thanks necessary. I’m honored to help.”
The table grows quiet, and I know without turning my head that
Thorne’s watching me.
When he reaches for his mug, his arm brushes against mine. “This
village is struggling to get enough food?”
“The shortages are hurting everyone, and most of the lower class don’t
have the money to buy what’s at the market.” Royce glances around and
leans closer, dropping his voice. “The king keeps upping the taxes on
what’s sold. Times are tough for a lot of people.”
The ale sours in my stomach. No one should have to wake up
wondering if they’ll get to fill their bellies when so many have plenty to
spare.
Thorne rubs the back of his neck. “Is that why you started a food pantry,
Royce?”
“Oh, no. It wasn’t my idea.” His face flushes as his lips curve into a
grin. “The pantry was all Lady Lark.”
I wave off his praise. “It was a joint effort.”
Still smiling, Royce shrugs.
Thorne studies me, his face a mixture of emotions I can’t name.
Royce clears his throat. “If you don’t mind me asking, Lady Lark, how
are you adjusting to Flighthaven?”
“I’m…adjusting.” I sip my ale and trace circles on the worn wooden
table. “It hasn’t been easy, but now that I’ve been there a while, I can’t
imagine ever returning home.”
Royce flashes me a knowing look. “I’m sure. It must be nice not to be
trapped in that castle of a home anymore.”
He has no idea just how much I’ve enjoyed this taste of freedom. “Very
nice.”
Thorne opens his mouth, questions I don’t want to answer swimming in
his gold-flecked eyes.
I blurt out the first topic that comes to mind. “Tell me what’s been
happening with you. How is your family?”
At the mention of his loved ones, Royce’s face softens. “You’ll never
guess what Sarah did last week.”
As he launches into a story about his youngest daughter’s antics, I start
to relax. The last couple of weeks have been difficult, and it’s wonderful to
forget about my problems for a bit.
“Aw, come on, sweetness, gimme a kiss, will ya?”
At the table nearest ours, a youngish man pulls a giggling serving girl
onto his lap. Within seconds, they’re kissing as if they mean it and then
some.
Despite Thorne’s earlier warning, he watches them as much as I do, his
thigh pressing even harder against mine.
My insides warm as my thoughts run wild…showing me sliding onto
Thorne’s lap, my arms around his shoulders, his palm covering my breast,
our mouths welcoming each other, tongues dueling as we deepen our kiss
until I don’t know where he ends and I begin.
Eyes closed, I pull in the deepest breath I can to calm myself. When I
force my lids up, Thorne’s looking at me, his gaze intent, color deepened.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he could read my indecent thoughts.
He eases closer to me then stiffens, his gaze darting to the door.
Before I can turn, Thorne swings his legs over the seat and stands.
“Excuse me.”
He joins a figure at the door who’s dressed in all black, the hooded
cloak masking the stranger’s features. Based on their height and breadth of
shoulders, I’m almost positive it’s a man.
They disappear into the darkness.
“If you don’t mind me asking, milady, since it’s none of my business…”
Royce lifts his shoulders. “How long have you and Sterling been together?”
My face burns, but I force a laugh. “Me and Thorne? Together?” I wave
my hands in front of myself. “No, you have us all wrong.”
Royce sips his ale, his eyes saying he knows I’m lying.
I should leave things at that, but I can’t. “He’s my flight instructor. To
be honest, he despises me.”
Royce’s bushy gray eyebrows inch up. “Your definition of despise must
be different than mine. That man watches you the way a mutt watches a
roast chicken…like he wants to devour you.”
Heat floods my cheeks. I cover my eyes. “That’s…no. You’re
mistaken.” Though part of me wishes he weren’t. “We annoy each other,
Royce. Thorne’s bossy and loves yanking my chain.”
Poor Royce struggles not to smile. “Whatever yanking your chain is…
do you like him doing that?”
 Even though I do—because it proves Thorne has some feelings for me,
including the mean ones at times—I’ll never admit as much.
I glance around, trying not to linger on the serving girls and men who’re
making out as if they’re alone in a bedroom. “So that book you mentioned
in your letter. From Peaches? Do you have it with you by chance?”
“Oh, yes, hold on.” Royce hops up, disappears behind the bar, and
returns holding a book with deep blue binding. “Strangest thing. The book
was sent from Flighthaven. It was addressed to Peaches, care of Royce, and
had the tavern name. I figured I should let you know right away, since
Leesa…you know. Any word on her whereabouts?”
I stroke the book. “Not yet, but I’m hoping this might help.” Though
I’m dying to thumb through the pages in search of clues, I tuck the book
into my cloak pocket.
Not a moment later, Thorne reappears at my side, pulling me off the
plank seat. “Time to go. Good to meet you, Royce. Don’t worry, Axton and
I will make certain your food pantry stays open, the constables and
merchants don’t threaten you any longer, and everyone has enough to eat.”
Thorne hands Royce two gold coins for our drinks. It’s entirely too
much money, and my heart can’t help but warm a little at the gesture. That
warmth dies when he drags me out of the tavern like hellshounds are
nipping at our heels and shushes me when I try to ask why.
Something clearly spooked him, but what?

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 Chapter Twenty-Nine

The tavern door shuts, muffling the boisterous voices within and replacing
laughter with chirping crickets and the mournful hoots of a fanged owl.
I let Thorne drag me another few steps before digging my heels into the
ground. “What’s the big hurry all of a sudden?”
The irritated noise that escapes Thorne’s throat makes it clear that he’d
rather not answer. Too bad for him. I’d rather not get hauled out of taverns
by hot, grumpy instructors, but we can’t always get what we wish.
While grumbling beneath his breath, he scans our surroundings. “Can
we at least get to Zephyr before we play twenty questions?”
Unlike earlier, his posture is rigid. Clearly something worrisome
happened between his interaction with the stranger and now. “Whatever.”
When he tugs on my hand again, I don’t fight him. I can bide my time.
Short of pitching me off Zephyr’s back, he won’t be able to escape my
pestering on the ride back.
The brisk evening air nips at my cheeks and fingers. Shivering, I pull
free of his grip and shove my hands into my pockets. My left one jostles the
book Royce gave me, dislodging a piece of paper. At first, I figure it’s a
loose page but then realize the parchment’s too thick. Fishing the paper out,
I take a quick peek and stumble.
A primitive map. Penned in Leesa’s scrawl. And the directions lead to a
spot not far beyond Castle Axton’s gates.
 Too caught up in my discovery to pay attention to where I’m going, I
stumble again, drawing another curse from my grumpy keeper. “Whatever
you’re reading, can you do it later? We don’t have time for that now.”
When we reach the shed, Zephyr greets us with a spirited neigh.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we’re going to need to make
time for this.” I wave the map under his nose. “Just a slight detour. Won’t
take long at all.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
Thorne flings me into the saddle. If not for his annoying dictator
routine, I’d probably admire how he tosses me around with seemingly no
effort, like I’m a rag doll rather than a full-grown woman. Instead, I want to
sew his mouth shut until he learns to listen.
“But we’re right there! It’s close to Castle Axton, so it shouldn’t cost us
more than a few extra minutes.”
Saying nothing, Thorne vaults into the saddle behind me and snaps the
reins. Zephyr flaps his powerful wings, rustling my hair as he propels us
into the air.
Several rhythmic wing-beats pass before my flight instructor speaks
again. “If I don’t take you, you’re going to sneak out again, aren’t you?”
“Yup.”
“Fucking hells.” Thorne grunts. “Fine. But if I say we need to abort, we
abort. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
He leans forward, his hot breath feathering against my cheek. “Watch
how you say that, Duchess, or one day you’re going to get more than you
bargained for.” His low growl boils my blood. “Now tell me where to go.”
Reaching into the saddlebag, he produces a tiny ever-light lantern. As I
study the map, I direct him. To anyone else, the map probably reads like
gibberish. Only Leesa and I would know the markers, such as right turn at
the ghost tree—the place where, the first time she ever snuck me beyond
the castle grounds, we swore we spotted a ghost.
The forest grows thick around my home, and everything looks different
from the air, making locating Leesa’s markers a bit tricky. It doesn’t help
that we need to fly as low as possible to avoid detection by the castle
guards. By the time I identify the tall boulder we used to climb that we
dubbed Giant’s Rock, Thorne’s practically vibrating with impatience. He
finds a tiny gap in the foliage and lands Zephyr like a pro.
 I scramble off the alicorn’s back first. “Wait here. It should only take a
few minutes.”
Thorne loops the reins around a branch. “Nice try, Duchess. No way in
the three hells am I letting you totter off into the dark forest at night without
an escort.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t totter. And, gee, I didn’t know you cared.”
“Don’t let it go to your head. I can’t very well leave Flighthaven with a
fledgling and come back empty-handed.”
“Whatever you say.”
Part of me wants to insist he stay behind. I have no idea what to expect
from this outing. What clue, if any, Leesa left me regarding her
whereabouts or disappearance. The more practical part of me remembers
the attack from my last excursion in these woods and would just as soon not
face another threat alone.
Though I get turned around more than once, I finally find my bearings
and reach Giant’s Rock. As instructed, I head due east. To my surprise, a
well-trodden path appears beneath my feet. The trail weaves around large
tree trunks and dead-ends at a small square of grass peppered with larkfire,
vivid red wildflowers with droopy petals.
Thorne stops beside me and scowls. “That’s it? We took a detour so you
could pick some flowers?”
Muttering, I shake my head. “This can’t be all. I must be missing
something.”
Wielding the little ever-light, I walk the perimeter. Nothing of interest.
Next, I drop to my knees and use my hands to hunt beneath the flowers.
Dirt. Grass. More dirt. Then my fingers hit a smooth surface broken up by
indents. Carvings.
Crawling closer, I shove the foliage aside and hover the light above the
stone. The grooves I felt are words.
It’s a grave marker.
“Why did you want to show me this?” I murmur. And then I actually
read the engravings, and the earth sways beneath me. A low buzzing fills
my ears.
“What…how can…what…”
Every sentence dies in my throat. Because the name on the grave
marker? It’s mine.
Lark Axton
Beloved daughter and sister

Born the same year as me. Dead four years later.

I can’t move. Can’t do anything but gape. Somehow sensing my
distress, Thorne squats beside me, rubbing his big hand in a circle on my
back. “What is it? You okay?”
Shaking my head no, I point a quivering finger at the marker. When he
reads, he goes utterly still. For some reason, the proof of his reaction allows
my lungs to resume functioning. “How can that be? That’s the same year I
was born.”
Thorne rocks back on his heels. “What do you think it means?” He turns
toward me, his eyes fixated on my face.
“I don’t…I don’t know.”
My voice wobbles. Tremors overtake my body. With a curse, Thorne
pulls me to my feet and wraps his arms around me. I bury my face in his
cloak, inhaling his familiar scent and letting his warm embrace soothe me
back from the edge of a nervous breakdown.
We stand that way until I stop shaking. Eventually, Thorne steps back,
using his thumbs to gently wipe the tears from beneath my eyes. With the
ever-light on the ground, it’s too dark to read his expression, but it almost
seems as if he’s waiting on something from me. If so, he might be waiting
for a long time. My mind is a wasteland right now.
Finally, he clears his throat. “Do you want to talk about it? I’m sure
there’s a reasonable explanation.”
“No.” Not when my brain is reeling like someone whacked me on the
skull with the broad side of a sword. I pause. “Wait. Like what?”
His hesitation strikes me as odd. Thorne isn’t usually the type to choose
his words carefully. “Perhaps…did you consider that you might be
adopted?”
When he speaks, his voice sounds different too. Softer than normal.
Maybe even a little cautious. I note those anomalies absent-mindedly, too
focused on his actual words to rustle up much interest in how he says them.
“Adopted. I guess that could make sense.”
Except, not really. If I’m adopted, why didn’t my mother tell me? Or
Leesa? And why, for the love of the gods, give me the same name as a dead
child?
 With gentle hands, Thorne ushers me back to Zephyr. For the first few
minutes of the return flight, I’m quiet while my mind struggles to uncover
my earliest memories, searching for any evidence of my possible adoption.
I quickly stop when my head begins to throb.
Grasping for something to divert my attention, I latch onto Thorne’s
hypervigilant state. Tension radiates from his body into mine, and every
time I peer over my shoulder, I catch his head swiveling as he scans the
empty skies.
I try my best to remain patient. Surely, if I sit tight a little longer, he’ll
fill me in. So I wait. Fidget. Wait some more.
In the end, it’s his barked, “sit still,” that makes me snap.
“Who was that man you spoke to outside the tavern? Is he the reason
you were suddenly in such a rush to leave?”
Behind me, his body stiffens even more. “You accomplished your goal,
and it was time to get you back. Unless you’d like Torno and Bigley to find
out you snuck out.”
His last comment distracts me. “Wait, don’t you have permission to take
students off the grounds? You’re the one who gives out the tokens.”
“There’s still a protocol to follow, so at the very least, we’re liable to get
questioned. Is that what you wanted to happen?”
I twist my head over my shoulder just to ensure he witnesses my epic
eye roll. “Obviously not. And don’t think I didn’t notice that you dodged
the question.”
“Is it not true that we needed to return?”
Picturing his neck, I squeeze thick sections of Zephyr’s mane until my
hands hurt. “Who was that man?”
“Just someone I used to know. Now, if you’re finished interrogating me,
I suggest you take advantage of this time and pay attention to how I fly
Zephyr.”
Understood. He doesn’t want to talk about the man. Given how his legs
and arms tense against me, I figure they must have argued. Not that he’s
admitting it.
The fact that Thorne has secrets shouldn’t bother me. Gods know I have
plenty of my own. I don’t like it, though. I want him to feel comfortable
sharing things with me, and his lack of trust in me stings. More than it
should.
 I want to burrow under that tough outer shell of his and discover what’s
hidden underneath. Maybe years of working as a private soldier and
witnessing the worst of humanity hardened him, but he managed to retain a
softer, caring side. I’ve seen that part of him in action.
Zephyr veers to the left, derailing my train of thought. A timely
interruption, because what in the gods am I doing? One kiss and act of
kindness, and suddenly I’m imagining Thorne opening up to me like we’re
in a serious relationship. Even with my inexperience, I know better.
Okay. Fine. He can keep his secrets. That won’t stop me from running
scenarios through my head.
I picture the gold coins he handed Royce—two of many—and consider
the possibility that he’s worried the man will rob him. Or maybe the
stranger’s someone from Thorne’s past, like another private soldier with a
long-standing beef. Maybe they squabbled over a lover. As soon as
Celeste’s face comes to mind, I decide I no longer want to waste
brainpower on the mystery man.
Now I’m the one who’s tense.
Thorne must notice because he throws me a bone. “Tell me about the
food pantry. How long have you been helping with it? I bet your mother
must be proud.”
I laugh. “About two years. And, um, I have no idea if she’d be proud or
not because I never told her. Actually, I’m pretty sure she’d be horrified.”
“Why?”
“Because then she’d know I snuck out. I told you, she’s overprotective.”
“I remember, but surely she’s not so overprotective that she’d begrudge
you leaving to do something so worthwhile.”
I scoff. “You don’t know my mother.”
He leans over my shoulder to see my face. “What does that mean? You
had to leave the castle sometimes. Meetups with friends, traveling,
shopping…”
“The only location I was allowed to visit with any regularity was the
castle grounds, and even then I was rarely alone. My mother was always at
my side or had Leesa stuck there. If possible, I think Mother would have
glued us together. I’m sure she would have lost her mind if she knew Leesa
helped me escape at night more than once.”
In the ensuing silence, I wonder what he’s thinking. Or if I revealed too
much. The last thing I want from him is pity…or for him to view me as a
naïve child.
“I was wrong about you before, Axton.”
His deep voice comes across as even more gravel-filled than usual.
“Wrong how?”
“When you first arrived, I had you pegged as just another brainwashed,
pampered noble whose parents doted on her and who cared more about her
social status and pretty gowns than the well-being of others. I jumped to
conclusions based on limited information, and that’s on me.”
The truth smarts. Even though I suspected as much already. “And now
that you know me better?”
I hold my breath as I await his reply. It’s not long in coming.
“I’ve watched you work to catch up at Flighthaven. Put in extra hours
without complaint. I’ve seen you jump in to defend others, even when they
don’t deserve it, and refuse to let hazing hold you back. Honestly, it doesn’t
surprise me that you were defying your mother to help the less fortunate in
your village…especially the defying part, as I’m personally acquainted with
your knack for that. Royce is right. The village is lucky to have you.”
Joy blooms inside me to the point that my chest feels like it’s about to
burst. Joy and freedom. The wind, the stars twinkling overhead, the
yawning expanse of open sky before us…the rush of emotions is so
overpowering that I release Zephyr’s mane and throw my arms out to the
sides.
“Whoa, careful.” Sterling’s tightened hold keeps me safe and molded to
him. “Last I checked, you still need wings to fly.”
I blink a few times, snapping out of my daze. What the…? Heart racing,
I wrap my hands around the pommel. That was beyond strange. Sure,
Thorne’s praise warmed my heart, but not to the extent that I should be
risking a free fall to a painful death. My emotions go out of whack at the
drop of a hat lately, and I don’t like it.
As if to prove my point, another burst of euphoria swells in my chest.
Some strange instinct makes me swivel my head to the right. Almost as if I
sense another living entity. Far, far off in the distance, near the mountains, a
tiny flare of orange cuts through the darkness. One blink and it’s gone.
I keep watching. The orange never reappears, and that sense of sharing
the sky with another being gradually fades.
Thorne’s paranoia must be rubbing off on me. There was probably
nothing out there to begin with.
 Thorne snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me closer to his chest.
“You all right?”
Not really. I’m confused and pissed at the weird reactions I keep
experiencing for no reason. Since I can’t tell him that, I attempt to laugh it
off.
“Yup. Guess I’m just responding to feeling the freest I’ve felt in my
life.”
His grip tightens. “It’s sad…no, a crime…that your mother cooped you
up like she did. I understand wanting to protect a child, but keeping them
imprisoned, even if the prison is a spectacular castle? That’s wrong.”
“It’s not all her fault.”
His arm loosens around me. “You’re saying you wanted her to treat you
like⁠—”
“A living, breathing doll? No. Of course not. But after my father died
and I was hurt in the accident, my mother lost it. She’s always been afraid
I’m going to die or disappear. I’m certain she’s shocked I’ve survived
Flighthaven this long. She’s… No, I don’t want to revisit my past. It’s over,
and I plan to never feel trapped like that again.”
He eases closer. I risk covering his hand with mine and love it a little
too much when he doesn’t pull away.
I wish these moments could last forever. Our easy banter continues as
he banks Zephyr to the left, toward Flighthaven.
“Take over the reins.” When I hesitate, he leans forward until his warm
breath caresses my ear. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”
A moment of that old panic rears its head. I acknowledge the feeling
and then reason my way past it. I’ve been training for this moment. We’re
already in the air. Thorne is behind me and won’t let anything happen to
me.
That last reason pushes me to grab hold of the reins.
To my delight, taking the reins is the toughest part. I fly Zephyr solo
without needing any help from Thorne. Soon, Flighthaven appears in the
distance. Despite the King’s Moon illuminating everything, fire burns in
metal barrels and stone pits, increasing the brightness almost as much as
day, an atypical sight at this hour.
Shouts ring out. People race across campus like little ants. Dragons and
their riders launch into the sky, fanning out in different directions.
 I struggle to decipher what’s going on through all the confusion.
“What’s happening?”
“I don’t know.”
After relieving me of the reins, Thorne lands Zephyr in a small clearing
behind a stand of trees, a short distance from the alicorn stable. With all the
commotion, no guards stop to check our credentials.
He dismounts before helping me off. “Join your flight unit, Axton.”
Without another word, he dashes toward the dragon aerie.
Panicked and breathless, I run, Zephyr trotting next to me. With all the
people scrambling around, it’s hard to find my unit, but eventually I spot
them near the paddock. None of them have their alicorns yet, their gazes
still riveted to the sky.
“Olive!”
She startles, whirling around to fling her arms around me. “Oh my gods,
you’re alright! I was so worried something terrible happened to you.” Her
voice sounds choked, as if she’s fighting back tears. “What’s Zephyr doing
here? Where were you?”
Hesitantly, I pat her on the back. I get how waking up to a campus alarm
and finding me gone could be a little concerning. Even so, her reaction
strikes me as a little over-the-top. “I’m fine.”
She squeezes me until my ribs start to complain, only relenting when
Zephyr rubs his muzzle against Olive’s ear and nickers. I send the alicorn a
silent thank you as Olive steps back and stares. “Why is Zephyr with you?”
I pat the alicorn’s neck. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to take Zephyr
for a stroll. Olive, what’s going on? Why are you so freaked out?”
She starts to tell me, but something else seizes her attention. I turn to
see Bigley and Torno barreling toward us. “We better get in formation.”
I do what she says, doing my best to act like having an alicorn attached
to my arm is the most natural thing in the world.
Though Torno frowns at Zephyr, Bigley ignores the alicorn.
Excitement ripples through the crowd.
“Quiet everyone.” Torno lifts her hands.
The fledglings quit talking. My heart beats hard against my throat as I
sneak glances in search of Thorne.
He’s nowhere to be found.
“Fledglings.” Standing confident and tall, Bigley makes for a
commanding presence, reminding me of a mature lion with that silver mane
of his. “We have a critical situation.”
A Tirenese attack? No, that makes no sense. I didn’t spot any of their
famed winged warriors in the sky.
At last, the alarm dies down, though the ringing in my ears still lingers.
After regarding each fledgling in turn, including me, Bigley frowns, the act
deepening the lines in his craggy face.
“We’ve captured an enemy intruder in the fledgling dorms…and one of
our dragons is gone.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirty

An enemy in our dorms? And a missing dragon? How is that possible?

Shock ripples through the gathered fledglings. Most of them. I notice
that Olive’s not very surprised. Nor Helene, who’s watching me like a
hawk.
“At this time, we’re not sure if those two events are linked or not.
Thanks to some quick thinking by two of your peers, we’ve taken the
intruder into custody. Our job now is to ensure there are no remaining
threats on campus and to find the escaped dragon. Fledglings will take to
the sky. You’ll cover the entire encampment, the shore, and the Cyne
mountain range. If you find anything out of the ordinary, report back to us
immediately. Vice Commander Torno will give each unit further
instructions.”
After Bigley leaves, Torno gives the closest unit their assignments. As
they head straight to the stable, she moves to the next group.
When she comes to our unit, she addresses me directly. “When you
were near the dragon aerie earlier today, did you notice anything unusual?”
An icy chill crawls down my spine. What wasn’t unusual about my
encounter with the dragon? Not that I can admit to any of that without
sounding like a loon.
“No, Vice Commander Torno.” I will my racing heart to calm and feign
nonchalance. “I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.”
 Torno regards me for a long moment—the glint in her amber eyes
reminding me of a cat’s—and nods. Does she believe me, or is she
pretending to because she doesn’t have enough evidence to prove
otherwise? Does she know I was actually inside the dragon aerie?
Her face is a mask. Flickering flames in the surrounding metal barrels
turn her auburn hair a fiery red and sharpen her features, lending them an
unearthly quality.
My mouth’s so dry, I can’t swallow. The intensity of her scrutiny makes
me half afraid she’s reading my thoughts.
Stay calm. Don’t fidget. Try to look innocent.
Easier said than done, even though I am innocent. I may have fudged
my way into the aerie, but that’s all. It’s not like I kidnapped the dragon
myself.
Shouts and commotion surround us, but she doesn’t bother glancing at
the others. I’m her sole focus. “Are you all right, Axton?”
“I’m fine. Just antsy to help with the search.” The question circling my
mind spills from my lips. “I was just wondering, which dragon is missing?”
“The black one.”
Tiny hairs on the back of my neck prickle. The only black dragon at
Flighthaven Academy—the one I had a weird…connection with earlier—
has gone missing. How can that be a coincidence?
I give myself a mental shake. What am I thinking? Of course it’s a
coincidence. How could getting overrun by strong emotions while in the
aerie and a dragon disappearing possibly be related?
Fighting to hide my unease from Torno, I only half listen as she assigns
my unit the area directly east of the eyril field.
Without another word, she turns to address the next group.
Olive and the others break for the stable to saddle their alicorns. Since
Zephyr’s already at my side, I remain in place.
I pat his neck, leaning close to whisper. His big ear twitches in my
direction. “I know it’s been a long night already. I’m sorry about this.”
The alicorn fixes a dark chocolate eye on me. He nudges me with his
nose, as if to tell me he’s okay, and a trickle of calm ripples through me. As
I wait for the rest of my unit to ready their mounts, my mind drifts to the
night’s events, and then to my sister. Gods, how I wish Leesa were here
with me.
 Before I can dwell on my problems any longer, Olive, Nick, and Abel
lead their alicorns from the stable and mount. I put my left foot in the
stirrup and swing my right leg over the saddle. After establishing a quick
game plan, we take to the sky to search the location Torno assigned. We
coast above the treetops for a good minute before reality punches me.
I’m flying an alicorn. By myself. Unattended. Just me and Zephyr,
racing with the wind, without any of the old panic rushing in to suffocate
me. I conquered my fear, and I owe it all to Thorne.
Once the initial burst of elation disperses, I settle in for the hunt. Even
with the silvery moonlight illuminating the grounds, there isn’t much to see.
Stands of trees, grassland, and a few ponds inhabit the area…nothing the
black dragon could hide in. The creature’s too immense.
I direct Zephyr lower. Leaves rustle, and blades of grass wiggle from
the wind his wings create, but there aren’t any prints from the dragon
lumbering over the ground. Not that a beast that size was likely to stomp
around in the plants when he could fly. Unless he was injured.
I recall the half-anguished, half-crazed look in his golden eyes the day
before, and my heart clenches. No creature should have to endure
imprisonment…whether human or animal.
As a last resort, I scour the area for any signs of the dragon.
There’s nothing.
“Any luck?” Olive flies Nova as close to Zephyr as she can without
their wings touching.
“Not a bit.” No depressions in the ground, no burn marks from his
fire…nothing that indicates the dragon took this route. “You?”
Biting her lip, she regards the area. “Nope.”
Together, we do another sweep. Eventually, Nick and Abel approach on
their mounts.
Nick yawns, revealing his even white teeth. “See anything?”
Olive shakes her head. “Lark and I didn’t.”
“Neither did we.” He pats Solara’s neck. “I don’t know about the rest of
you, but my bed is calling my name.”
Abel snorts. “He needs his beauty sleep. Otherwise, I’ll have a long day
dealing with his grumpy ass.”
My thoughts shift to a certain moody instructor. I have a feeling Nick
won’t be the only “grumpy ass” in the morning.
 Finished with our search to the east of the eyril, our unit turns and heads
back toward Flighthaven.
As we approach the field, Nick swivels in his saddle to face me. “We
should check out the stalks.”
I eye the field that looms ahead. “Are they tall enough for a dragon to
hide in?”
He shrugs. “Won’t hurt to look.”
True. Even if we find no dragon there, the area’s worth checking out for
signs of any lurking intruders.
Abel hollers from behind us. “Let’s do it…if little princess over there
isn’t about to go night night in the air.”
Nick glares at Abel. “Bite me.”
Laughing, Abel swoops ahead of us and begins to descend.
Muttering another curse, Nick suggests we divide and conquer, then
flies off to the farthest section of the field.
Olive and I break apart and fly to our allotted locations.
As Zephyr glides over our designated area, my neck tingles. Uneasiness
I can’t shake washes over me. My senses whisper that someone’s skulking
in the plants below. Someone or something.
Mimicking the commands I heard Thorne utter earlier, I tug the reins
and direct Zephyr to fly even lower, low enough that his hooves almost
brush the tallest stalks. Even though there’s no breeze at the moment, the
eyril appears to undulate as we pass overhead. At the edge of the field, we
come across an adjoining grassy one. A black vein snakes across it like a
giant serpent.
I blink, certain I’ve never seen anything like that before.
I guide Zephyr into a slow descent to get a better view. The black vein
pulses. Moves. As if reacting to our presence. Darkness oozes from the vein
at a rapid pace, spreading outward to the surrounding grass. My breath
catches. One moment, the field is green. The next, all the grass dies, leaving
the meadow dark and barren.
I rub my eyes. Look again. The field is still dead, the ground coated
with an inky substance.
How can this be happening? It’s not an escaped dragon, but I need to
tell the others.
As I steer Zephyr around, leaves flutter and stalks sway. A faint
humming grows steadily louder, and I swear I can almost hear a seductive
voice calling out. Luring me to fly Zephyr lower, into the welcoming
embrace of the eyril.
Come close…agon…call…
I cock my head. What is the voice saying? Surely, flying a little closer
couldn’t hurt.
Zephyr fights the command, but I barely notice. The voice keeps
whispering. It’s such a nice sound. Soothing. Maybe if I just⁠—
An oily cloud bursts from the stalks in front of us. Zephyr banks a hard
right, and we avoid the tainted air by the skin of our teeth.
Fear clogs my veins. An icy cold snakes down my throat and into my
lungs.
I’ve seen that oily cloud before, in one of my nightmares.
But how?
The cloud and tendrils reach toward us, so I urge Zephyr upward until
we’re high above the field. I force myself to take slow, steady breaths and
squeeze my eyes shut.
“Lark?” Olive’s voice drifts across the field. “Why are you way up
there? Did you see something?”
My eyes pop open. “Yes. You won’t believe this, but I saw⁠—”
I glance down at the eyril field and freeze. Everything looks normal.
The tendrils are gone, and there’s no sign of the oily black cloud. The
grassy field is as green as ever.
Could I have imagined it?
Maybe Nick isn’t the only one who needs his beauty sleep to function.
“Saw what?”
“Nothing. I saw nothing.” I nudge Zephyr toward Olive and Nova. “Just
thought I’d fly higher to get a better overall view.”
Once we’re all satisfied no one is hiding in the eyril field, we head to
the stable in silence. Everyone is tired. Even Nick and Abel aren’t ribbing
each other, and I want nothing more than to put this day to rest and start
over. Too many bizarre or unsettling events have happened in too short a
time frame. One more, and my brain might explode.
Back in the stable, I groom Zephyr, making sure I brush him thoroughly.
After the night we’ve had, he deserves the care.
Olive produces some sugar cubes from her pocket, handing me one to
give to Zephyr and feeding a second one to Nova. “Do you think we baby
these alicorns too much?”
 Zephyr’s mouth tickles as he takes the treat from my outstretched palm.
“Of course not.”
“I don’t think so either, but Nick and Abel love their alicorns and still
got out of here in a flash.” She shakes her head. “Typical guys. Once they
get what they want, they’re gone.”
I wonder if she’s speaking from experience. “There must be some nice
ones out there.”
“Yeah, but nice guys are like dragons. You know they exist, but they’re
a rarity.” Olive brushes Nova’s shoulder, laughing when the animal makes a
contented grunt. “But is that what you really want?”
“What?”
“A nice guy.”
I never put much thought into what kind of man I might like but
whenever I did, I pictured someone out of a storybook. Someone courtly
and kind, who doted on me, agreed with everything I said, and whispered
sweet words in my ear. Now, I’m certain a man like that would bore me to
tears. “Umm⁠—”
She gives me a sly wink. “There’s a certain dangerous, brooding
instructor who’d be a lot more fun than any nice guy I know.”
Swallowing hard, I widen my eyes and feign innocence. “Who would
that be?”
“Don’t play dumb.” She shoots me a you know exactly who I’m talking
about look. “I’ve seen the way you two act around each other.”
My face burns. “If you’re talking about Instructor Thorne, he was only
helping me get up to speed with flying. And even if I did like him and he
did like me, he’s off-limits. You know that.” Why is it so damn warm in
here? “And what do you mean by how we ‘act’ around each other?”
“When you’re not arguing,” a grin spreads across her face, “you two act
as if you’re a few seconds away from tearing each other’s clothes off
and⁠—”
“Okay.” I hold up my hand. “I don’t know where you got that idea, but
there’s nothing between us.” Somehow, the words sound less convincing
out loud than they do in my head.
“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that. Don’t think I forgot how the sparks
were flying this morning.” Olive props her hands on her hips. “I can’t
believe you had the balls to call him an obnoxious asshole! What happened
when you snuck into his room, anyway?”
 “First of all, I never specified that he was the obnoxious asshole in
question.” Even though he totally was. “If he inferred as much, that’s on
him. Secondly, I’m kind of beat. Can we table this conversation for later?”
Olive’s shrewd eyes study my face. I try not to blush but can feel the
warmth climbing my neck. She cackles and claps her hands. “Oh my gods!
You hooked up! You hooked up with Instructor Tall, Dark, and Broody!”
“What? No!” Cringing, I slap my palm over her mouth and do a quick
check of the stable. Empty. Thank the gods. For once, luck is on my side. “I
didn’t hook up with him. Not like that, anyway. We just⁠—”
Olive rips my hands from her mouth and squeals. “You just what?
Planted the parsnip? Fed the kitty? Swallowed his sword? Took a trip to
pound town? Did the no-pants dance?”
I’m glad there’s no mirror around because my face must be bright red.
“No. We just kissed. That’s it.”
Her eyes go round like saucers. “Ha! So something did happen. I was
just giving you a hard time. I can’t believe you actually kissed him. How
was it? Is he a good kisser? I bet he is. No man with the kind of confidence
and sex appeal he oozes could be bad.”
As I remember our kiss, my skin warms for an entirely different reason.
“The kiss was good. Perfect. But don’t get excited. He kicked me out right
afterward and told me to go find another fledgling if I wanted a hookup,
because he wasn’t on the menu.”
Olive winced. “Oof. Sorry, that’s rough. Maybe he was just trying to
push you away.”
“I don’t really want to talk about it anymore. I want to know why you
were so freaked out when you first saw me.”
The excitement dims from Olive’s face. “You know how Bigley
announced there was an intruder in the dorms?” She waits for my nod
before continuing. “Well, he broke into our room.”
I go still. “What?”
“Yeah. And there’s more.” She casts a worried glance at me, and my
nerves begin to vibrate. Whatever she has to say next, I’m not going to like.
“He had a dagger out and jumped you in the bed. Or, he at least jumped the
clothes you stuffed under the blanket, thinking it was you. We all did. If
Helene hadn’t been in the bathroom, I’m not sure what would have
happened. She caught him while he was focused on your bed and woke me
up. Between the two of us, we managed to subdue him.”
 I stare into her concerned eyes as my mind attempts to process the
news. “Does that mean…do you think someone targeted me to kill me?”
I don’t realize my hands are shaking until she clasps them in her own.
“Torno told us not to jump to any conclusions before we have all the
information. She also told us not to share details with anyone but fuck that.
If someone’s after you, you deserve to know.”
Wild thoughts race through my head. Leesa’s scribbled note to keep me
away from Flighthaven. The tombstone with my name. The freakish
experiences with the eyril and the escaped dragon.
It’s too much to handle when I’m already close to passing out. I need
sleep first. Maybe with a fresh mind, things will make more sense in the
morning.
Once we finish caring for the alicorns, we leave the stable. Dawn isn’t
too far off. If we hurry back, we might luck out with a few hours of sleep.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirty-One

The next morning, I wake up to a note from Thorne slipped under the door,
canceling our training session. No explanation. Just a single curt line saying
he can’t make the lesson.
I stare at the black letters on the white page. The precise, harsh pen
strokes don’t surprise me. Thorne’s tidy room and background as a soldier
speak to his discipline. In a couple spots, the ink is thicker, though, almost
as if the writer paused to second-guess his wording.
When I catch myself still staring at the page minutes later, I stifle a
groan. Wow. Am I really standing around, pouring over Thorne’s note as if
his handwriting will unlock the secrets of his soul? It’s a new low, even for
me. Especially when yesterday’s shitshow should be claiming all my
attention.
The grave marker, the intruder, the attempted stabbing, the escaped
dragon, my hallucinations over the eyril field. I don’t know what to make of
any of it. I wish I understood why Leesa felt the need to play cat and mouse
games with me. The only conclusion I can draw is that my sister was scared
and believed sending me the letter or the book directly came with too much
risk.
Still, the image of my name on that gravestone is permanently seared
into my eyes. I can’t help but feel betrayed…by both my mother and Leesa.
I came to Flighthaven hoping for answers. Instead, with each passing
day, I grow more confused. Do all the strange things happening to me tie
together somehow? Or am I just blessed by a god that specializes in the
bizarre and inexplicable?
Shaking my head at my own foolishness, I stash the note in my
nightstand and fish out the book Royce gave me from beneath the mattress.
I smooth my palm over the leather-bound cover. Of all subjects, why
Tirenese history? Hopefully, an answer lies within the pages. If Leesa went
to all the trouble of getting the book, along with a coded note, to Royce,
then I have to believe there’s something important inside. Nothing left to do
until breakfast but start reading.

In the aftermath of such an eventful night, the mess hall at breakfast

overflows with rumors and gossip.
Despite repeated searches, no one located the missing black dragon.
Privately, I celebrate his newfound freedom. I hope the dragon flies far from
this place and never returns. I hope he soars above the Cyne mountain
range, enjoying the sun warming his hide and the wind flowing beneath his
wings. Traitorous or not, I go as far as to hope the dragon finds a herd of
wild dragons to join, even if that means settling in Tirene.
There’s only one person I could share these hopes with. Too bad he
canceled on me. I avoid getting drawn into the conversations as much as
possible, snarfing down my oatmeal and leaving early to curb my rising
frustration over everyone’s obsession with how to recover the beast.
Outside, the relative silence eases my irritation. As the sun slips behind
the clouds, a prickle of awareness teases the nape of my neck. Turning, I
spy the culprit. A visibly pissed off Thorne stands outside the administrative
building, his rigid posture and flat mouth dead giveaways. He’s staring right
at me, so that’s great.
My blood sings as he finishes his conversation and stalks down the path
toward me. Asinine on my part, honestly. No one in their right mind wants
Thorne marching toward them as if someone stuffed his favorite boots with
dragon droppings.
He grabs my arm and pulls me behind a tree, performing a frantic, head-
to-toe visual inspection. “You’re okay?”
I wrinkle my brow. “I’m fine. Why?”
 His shoulders relax. “Torno just told me about the man who broke into
your dorm room and tried to stab you.”
Wait. Did I misread the signs? Thorne wasn’t pissed but worried? Over
my safety?
My heart melts into a pile of goo. “It happened while we were away last
night. I’m perfectly safe.”
His scowl deepens. “Perfectly safe until the next attempt. Meanwhile,
here you are, frolicking about on your own like you don’t have a care in the
world.”
“I’ll have you know that I have plenty of cares…er, lots of things I care
about. And walking at a sedate pace is hardly frolicking.” The warmth in
my chest expands. “Thanks for worrying about me, though.”
With a smile, I place my hand on his chest.
His muscles twitch at the contact. He raises his own hand, as if to cover
mine, but stops abruptly and whips his head to the side. With a low growl,
he jerks back a step, leaving my hand to fall to my side.
Torno strolls into view, following a walkway to one of the training
fields. She dips her chin at us without stopping.
I return her nod and refocus on Thorne. The scowl has vanished, leaving
his features arranged in that carefully blank expression I’m growing to hate.
“You’re not special. I’m merely performing my duties. It’s part of my job to
help maintain the safety of the campus and all fledglings.”
His voice is as flat as his expression. Cold. Just like the chill that chases
the warmth from my chest.
From prick to sweetheart to prick again, all under a minute. That might
be a new record, even for him.
I rub my sternum, a futile effort to banish the hurt from his verbal blow.
He tracks the motion and—wait. Was that a flinch? No. Surely not. That
would mean he cares, when he basically just told me the opposite.
In all honesty, I think he probably does care. At least a little. But the
effort he puts into hiding this truth sends a message all by itself.
He doesn’t want this. Me. Whatever this connection is between us.
The fake smile straining my lips requires a lot of effort. “Well, then,
thanks for looking out for everyone’s safety.” My forced cheer rings fake to
my own ears. I should stop there to avoid any unnecessary awkwardness,
but I can’t help myself. “For the record, if someone tried to stab you, I’d
care. Not just because I want all my instructors to be safe, but because I
care about you as a person.”
This time, his flinch is obvious. Torment flares in his eyes as he gazes at
me, his hands fisted at his sides. “Don’t. Care, that is.”
Ugh. Not this again. “Why not?”
“Because nothing can happen.”
“Nothing as in, we’re not allowed to give a damn about each other as
human beings?” He folds his arms across his chest, quirking his left
eyebrow up in challenge as if to say, you know that’s not what I meant. I
throw my hands up in defeat because, fine. I do know. That doesn’t mean I
need that eyebrow to call me out like that. “Is it the instructor-student
thing?”
A beat passes. “Sure.” He gives my body one last inspection. “Don’t let
me catch you by yourself again.”
He walks away without glancing back.
I want to argue, but what’s the point? He couldn’t be clearer about not
wanting anything from me, and I need to respect his boundaries. To him,
I’m probably just another fledgling watching him with starry eyes. If I’m so
desperate for a romantic relationship, I should take his advice and find
someone my age. A peer. Not a moody instructor who makes me want to
bang my head on a wall half the time, anyway.
Luckily, the next days keep me busy. Preparations for the upcoming trial
and my race to locate Leesa don’t leave me much time for brooding. I push
myself in conditioning and weapons training, as well as flex my expanding
power in magic. Thorne deems me proficient enough at flight to join my
regular class. Now that I’ve conquered my terror of riding an alicorn, flying
comes easily. My aptitude for riding and connection to Zephyr grow with
each session. Sometimes, we’re so in tune, it’s almost as if we can read each
other’s minds.
If only using weapons in the air were half as simple.
Thorne cuts our morning lessons down to every other day, helping me
practice those skills along with anything else he can dream up. The grueling
sessions don’t allow much space for chitchat, which I’m sure comes as a big
relief for us both. I also recruit my flight unit and Theo to help me practice
my skills on the ground when afternoon classes get out and sometimes even
after dinner.
 If I can keep my eyes open at night, I read Leesa’s book. So far, nothing
jumps out as pertinent to my life or Leesa. I worry that I’ve gotten my
hopes up for nothing.
I read about ancient times when dragons preceded people and the belief
they claimed all of Tirene as their home. I read about how phoenixes used
to flourish and build their nests in the cliffs before disappearing, and about
other beasts—magical and otherwise—that roamed the kingdom. All very
helpful if I ever decide to seek a career in animal husbandry, but aside from
that? I doubt a history of the most interesting and prolific creatures residing
in enemy territory will aid me in uncovering the answers I seek.
Like other sources, this author repeats the speculation that the Tirenese
are winged due to dragon ancestry in their distant past. He goes a step
further and hypothesizes that ritual magic was combined with the inherent
magic in dragons themselves. That’s far more palatable than the idea
dragons mated with the original native people, a theory that creates such an
alarming visual that I wish I had a magic spell to scrub the very concept of
bestiality from my brain.
After a grueling week, I’m overjoyed when we have a free afternoon to
spend however we please. Theo and I lag behind the rest of my flight unit as
we head to the beach.
“Careful, Lark.” Theo snakes a hand around my waist, catching me as I
stumble.
My face heats at the contact. “Thanks. I was lost in my own head.”
It’s not a lie. A lot has happened during my time at Flighthaven. The
image of that grave marker never leaves my mind for long, and I’m nervous
at the thought of the upcoming trial, knowing how vital it is that I don’t let
my unit down.
But more important is my sister. Despite all the recent revelations, I’m
no closer to finding her.
In good news, my magic continues to grow stronger as I wean off more
of the remedy. My worry over losing control grows too. In class, I take care
to never call on all my power. The memory of the burning stable is still too
traumatic, and even though I’m starting to question everything my mother
ever told me, her warnings about using my magic still hold sway. Maybe
now more than ever. If I am adopted, there’s no telling what secrets she’s
hiding about my biological family. For all I know, I come from a long line
of people who struggle with freakish elemental power bursts that lead to
accidents.
That’s the crux of the problem. I don’t know anything.
“What did those poor little rocks ever do to you?”
At Theo’s amused comment, I startle and watch a rock bounce along the
trail ahead of us. “Sorry. I was spacing out again.”
The breeze tugs a few wisps of hair loose from my braid. Theo catches
one of them, rubbing it between his fingers before tucking the strand behind
my ear. “You need to learn how to relax.” When I snort, he shoots me a
sideways glance, his hand lingering on my cheek. “What’s so funny?”
“If you only knew…relaxing is basically all I used to do before coming
to Flighthaven. Oh, hey, look, there’s Olive and the others.”
I start jogging toward them, relieved to get a little space and join a
bigger group. Theo’s always been friendly, but today he’s giving off a
different vibe, like he’s interested in being more than friends, and I don’t
know what to do about it.
Unlike Thorne, Theo’s casual touch doesn’t set my body on fire or
release a flock of butterflies in my belly. But Thorne’s not an option. Maybe
Theo’s exactly what I need to help me get past my inappropriate infatuation.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirty-Two

Once we’re on the sandy white shore, we build sand castles, then use our
magic to destroy our work. Olive’s air magic blows the models apart,
Nick’s water magic floods each, sending them back into the sea, while
Abel’s earth magic swallows them whole. Theo calls on his fire, helping me
burn twigs from the nearby forest into ash. We get more and more
ridiculous with our antics. The briny air and repetitive crash and lull of the
ocean helps me relax and forget my worries for a while.
As waves wash away our destroyed masterpieces, Olive laughs. “So
why did everyone come to Flighthaven?”
“Well,” Abel gestures between Olive and me, “you two obviously didn’t
have a choice.”
“True, but we’ve made the best of it.” She tucks a wayward red curl
behind her ear. “Why are you guys here?”
“To feed my siblings. My Flighthaven pay takes care of that. That’s why
I’m so anxious to pass the upcoming trial.” Abel shudders. “I could never
live with myself if I failed them.”
I pat his shoulder. “You won’t. We’re going to pass.” I hope.
“Damn straight.” Abel winks at me. “Although, I won’t lie…I was a
little worried there at first when you never joined our flight training class. I
can’t tell you how relieved I was to witness your flying skills in action.”
I offer a weak chuckle. “Yeah, well, that makes two of us.”
 “What about you, Nick?” Olive takes the leather throng off her wrist to
secure her hair in a low ponytail. “What inspired you to come to
Flighthaven?”
“It’s a good career.” He cups sand in his palms and lets the grains fall
back to the beach, repeating the process once his hands are empty. “And
since I’ve always felt at ease with horses, I figured I’d be the same with
alicorns.”
“With all this,” Theo makes a sweeping gesture that spans the length of
his body, “how could I not join? Who can resist a hot guy in uniform?”
Everyone chortles, and a sense of peace settles over me as I enjoy the
comradery. I’m not confined to a castle, and no one’s trying to poison me or
holding a blade to my throat. It’s a good day. I should try to appreciate the
positives while I can, even if all the worries weighing on my mind make
doing so difficult.
Speaking of… “Hey, Olive, will you come look for seashells with me?”
“Uh, sure?”
I climb to my feet and help her to hers. “Let’s try over there first.” I
point at a spot where the beach rounds a corner.
We walk in that direction, Abel’s teasing following on our heels. “Hey,
is looking for seashells code for hooking up? If so, can we come watch? I
promise we’ll be really quiet.”
“Pig!” Olive flips him off behind her back, triggering his burst of
laughter.
Once we disappear from sight, she slows her pace. “Okay, but seriously,
why did we really come over here? Is it something to do with Theo?”
My jaw drops. “How did you know?”
She bumps her shoulder against mine. “I was watching you guys walk
up to us. I saw him play with your hair, and you were blushing when you
first jogged up.”
I shake my head. “If Flighthaven doesn’t work out, I think you could
have a lucrative spying career.”
She makes a funny noise. “Yeah…if I had a choice, I’d pass on both of
those. But we’re getting off topic. Theo. What are you thinking? He’s super
cute. And funny.”
I nibble on my lower lip. “Yeah. He is…”
“But let me guess…he’s not a grumpy flight instructor.”
 “Ugh. Am I that obvious?” I rub my hands down my face. “I’m so
pathetic.”
“Hey, stop. I would never say that. Sometimes, the heart wants what the
heart wants, and there’s not much we can do about it.”
“Yeah, well, the grumpy instructor all but told my heart to take a hike
and look for someone else.”
She stops to give me a hug. “I know, and he’s an idiot for that. You’re
good people, Lark. If he can’t see that, it’s his loss. Besides, do you really
want to sneak around? At least with Theo, you can have a relationship out
in the open.”
I lean my head on her shoulder, digging my toes into the wet sand while
watching a big wave curl in the distance. “Yeah. I guess.”
Something thumps behind us. Olive rolls her eyes. “Abel, I swear to the
gods, if you—” As she whirls, her tone changes. “What are you doing
here?”
I spin, and my muscles clench. Elijah, Mark, and the stocky blond
fledgling with a buzz cut and wide nose who I recognize as another member
of their flight unit all stand too close for comfort. Notable in her absence is
Helene. I wonder if we can expect a late arrival to this delightful gathering
or if she had better things to do.
Elijah and Mark fan out to each side, working with the third fledgling to
surround us. Edging backward to remain out of reach, the frigid tide rushes
over my feet and ankles. The icy water bites at my skin.
Mark sneers. “We’re here to do what Torno and Bigley are too chicken
to do.”
Olive widens her stance and rolls her shoulders back. The top of her
head barely reaches his collarbone and he’s double her weight, but my
courageous friend refuses to be cowed. “Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”
“Weed out the traitors.”
Olive and I exchange an uneasy glance before she faces off with them
again, curling her lip. “Are you sure? Or is it that you’re worried about our
flight unit beating you in the trial rankings now that you’ve seen that Lark
isn’t dead weight?”
Despite the tense situation, I can’t help but protest. “Hey!”
Olive directs a tiny, apologetic smile my way. “Sorry, but you can’t
blame us for worrying.”
 The blond fledgling shuffles his feet. “So what? I’m not afraid to admit
I want that first pick of assignments. My best friend’s older sister’s flight
unit placed second to last her year and got sent far north during winter. A
blizzard hit, and she and two others in her unit froze to death in the
mountains.”
Elijah glowers at his friend. “Don’t be a wuss, Trevor. We don’t need
any help kicking these losers’ asses in the trial. That’s not why we’re here.”
I’m tempted to ask the obvious question—why are they here—but self-
preservation silences my tongue. Somehow, I doubt hearing their plan to
“weed out the traitors” will do much to tame my rampaging nerves. “This is
stupid. Abel, Nick, and Theo are just around the corner. One shout and they
come running, and then it’s five to three in our favor.”
Mark’s soft chuckle sends a chill zinging down my spine. “Go ahead.
See that?” He gestures at something overhead. “We planned ahead. Trevor’s
been working on his air shield just for this. We tested it until we were sure it
was soundproof.”
Trevor’s focused on the translucent dome that engulfs the five of us. If
not for the sun glimmering off the shield in spots, the barrier would almost
be invisible.
Olive tries anyway. “Nick! Theo! Get your butts over here. It’s an
emergency!”
The blond fledgling flinches, and he and Elijah crane their necks to
check the beach. No one shows.
Shit.
Fear constricts my lungs, and my breathing becomes labored. In
reaction to my emotions, my magic builds, ballooning into an almost
painful pressure inside me. If I don’t use the power soon, I worry it will
explode through my skin like a supermova.
And the outcome if I do use it could be even worse.
Olive strikes first, conjuring and heaving a mini gale at Trevor. Mark
blocks the wind with a wall of sand. The wall remains solid for a moment
before exploding, and thousands of tiny grains pelt Olive in the face.
Her pained yelp rings out. “My eyes!”
I lunge and grab her by the arm, pulling her backward into the ocean.
“Use the water to wash them out.”
With tears streaming down her cheeks, she drops to her knees in the
surf. I wait until I see her cup a handful of water and splash the liquid over
her eyes before turning back around. As I do, I fumble for the dagger
strapped to my belt. Elijah tackles me from the side. The dagger goes
flying, and my left shoulder hits the sand hard. His oversized body lands on
top of me, collapsing my lungs and forcing out every last bit of oxygen.
I wheeze. Thrash my limbs. Attempt to shove my elbow into his ribs
and reach for the dagger in the sand. It’s no use. Elijah’s a brute of a man.
Probably two times my weight and ten times more skilled at grappling, and
my disadvantages come on top of getting the air knocked out of me.
Elijah wrenches my arms behind my back. My shoulders shriek in pain,
but I refuse to give our assailants the satisfaction of crying out. Mark darts
out of view and returns dragging Olive by the ponytail. Squinting with red-
rimmed eyes, she manages to roll and punch him in the groin, missing her
target by a hairsbreadth. Mark curses before putting her in a headlock.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way is, you tell
us what the Kamorian who snuck onto campus wanted, and we’ll take you
to Bigley without hurting you…much. Don’t tell us, and there’s no telling
how much damage we might inflict.”
Now that Elijah’s no longer crushing me, I suck air into my burning
lungs. “What Kamorian?” I cough. “I don’t know what you’re talking
about.”
“You should. You’re the one he wanted to stab.”
That gives me momentary pause. “My would-be assassin was
Kamorian? That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
Elijah cranks my arms back harder. I choke on an agonized whimper as
my magic thrashes like a living beast beneath my skin. “Maybe so, but I bet
it’s not the first your little roommate here’s heard of it. Is it, Olive?”
“What are you trying to imply? That I had something to do with it?
Because it’s not true. I’d never do that to Lark.” Olive’s frantic gaze seeks
mine. “You believe me, right?”
“Of course I do.” I’m surprised she’s letting them get under her skin.
Obviously they’ll say anything to rattle us.
Mark tightens his grip across the front of her neck. Olive claws at his
forearm to no avail. “Sure you wouldn’t. Kamor-lover. Did you know my
cousin lost his leg in the last battle, defending Aclaris from those
heathens?” he snarls. “I should do us all a favor and kill you now. If you tell
us why he went after Axton, though, I promise just to maim you a little.”
 He eases the pressure off her neck just enough to let her speak. “I told
you, I don’t know!”
She whips her head back and connects with his nose. He screams, blood
streaming down his face.
“You bitch!” Hacking, he spits a crimson glob onto the sand.
Taking advantage of the distraction, I squirm and kick behind me. My
foot collides with flesh, but Elijah only grunts and tightens his hold.
Olive tries to scramble free, too, but the sand flies out from beneath her
legs. She drops into the hole up to her waist. The sand fills in around her,
trapping her in place. Mark uses a vine to bind her wrists behind her.
Olive continues thrashing. “Let me go!”
“You lost your chance. I’m gonna enjoy this.” Grabbing her ponytail,
Mark yanks her head back as far as it will go. Using his earth magic, he
levitates a thick glob of wet sand until it hovers just above her mouth.
“Open up.”
When she refuses, Mark pinches off her nose. More tears stream down
her cheeks as she struggles to evade his grip.
The pressure from holding back my power grows and grows,
hammering at my bones and the inside of my skull. My teeth hurt. My
joints swell. My pulse drums throughout my entire body. “Stop! Let her go,
please. Before I⁠—”
“Before you what? Pass out like you did that first day in flight
training?”
Well, damn. Apparently everyone and their brother noticed that.
Even Trevor starts to act uneasy. “Hey, are you sure about this? I don’t
mind injuring them to give us a leg up in the trial, but no one said anything
about suffocating or, you know, killing anyone.”
Ignoring us both, Mark focuses on Olive. As soon as she gasps for
breath, he drops the wet sand straight into her mouth. When she gags, he
shoves a second handful up her nose.
I don’t realize I’m screaming until Mark palms his dagger and glares at
me. “Shut up, bitch!” The weapon flies, glancing off my shoulder.
I snap. Power bursts from my body like a flood crashing through a dam,
shattering Elijah’s hold as my magic unleashes.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirty-Three

A wall of pure flame shoots straight up into the sky, and the release is
incredible. The fire coursing through me feels like a resurrection of my
soul. It’s as if failing to use my magic year after year created an ever-
growing pressure inside me, and over time, the force gradually crushed my
bones and organs without me knowing, like a lobster slowly boiled to death.
My flames spread at an alarming rate, racing across the sand in both
directions to create a barrier separating Olive and I from the others. Faint
screams ring out, though it’s hard to hear over the crackling roar.
Olive chokes and hacking to clear her mouth and throat. I somehow
manage to free her from the sand prison and drag her into the ocean.
Cupping water, I help her rinse out her mouth until she stops gasping.
All the while, the magic rushes from me. My fire takes on a life of its
own. When I turn back, the flames lick even higher, stretching taller than
three full grown dragons stacked one atop the other. I know I should panic,
but the sight mesmerizes me. By Ziva, those flames. They’re so beautiful.
And unusual. The vibrant red-orange colors at the top gradually melt into
purples and blues.
As I watch the inferno dance through the air, the past flashes through
my head.
Shrieks of agony. The acrid scent of scorching flesh. Horses screaming.
A feeling of utter helplessness.
 Behind me, someone calls out my name. Desperation laces the feminine
voice. Olive.
As if I’m in a dream, I notice Olive grab my arm and point. Flames
barrel down the beach toward the forest.
Shouts carry from the other direction. Theo, Nick, and Abel race in our
direction, but the heat must get too intense. Partway, the trio alters course
and splash into the water. From the opposite side of the flame barrier, an
agonized wail reaches us.
In my head, the events play out through a thick, mental fog, merging
with the past and making it difficult to tell what’s real and what isn’t.
Horses shrieking. Straw burning. Screams. Sobs.
“Lark? Lark! Stop the fire!”
Cold water slaps my face, ripping me from my memories. Clarity
returns and pummels me like a giant fist.
The fire. My fire. It blazes everywhere with no signs of dying. Heat
scorches the air, and I’m pretty sure the reason my uniform clings to me like
a second skin is sweat, not sea water. Another wail makes me gasp.
Elijah, Mark, Trevor. They’re trapped by my fire. They’re going to die.
No. My fire is killing them.
I try to reel in my magic. Again and again and again. With each failed
attempt, fear rises. Eventually, I shake my head, panting. It’s no use. “I
can’t. It’s too strong. I don’t know how.”
Any lingering joy dissolves into panic. Horror clogs my throat and
strangles my lungs.
Not again.
Olive’s voice. The screams. The rest of my flight unit, shouting at me.
All the noises fade away as I stand rooted in place, a victim of my own
helplessness, while two words beat a constant litany in my head.
Not again. Not again. Not again.
A deep, commanding voice cuts through the haze.
“Axton! What the fuck?”
When I blink, Instructor Thorne is standing before me. I stumble into
him and clutch his shirt, babbling and sobbing. “I can’t do this. I don’t
know how. It’s happening again. Make it stop. Make it st⁠—”
A hard shake rattles my teeth. The motion knocks me out of meltdown
mode long enough to realize his face is only a hair’s breadth away.
 His grip immediately softens, and one of his hands reaches up to cup
my cheek. “Breathe, Lark. Slow down and breathe.”
More than anything, it’s his unexpected use of my first name that snaps
me back to myself. For once, I follow his directions without arguing and
concentrate on breathing.
While I inhale deeply, he faces the flames. Within seconds, a wall of ice
surrounds my firestorm, containing the chaos I created.
Sweat sheens on his brow. “I can only contain it for so long. You’re too
damn strong. You need to stop it.”
Under different circumstances, I’d revel in the admiration in his voice.
Instead, fear rakes me with sharp claws.
I don’t want to be too strong. Too strong is bad. Too strong means
people get hurt.
I inhale a gasping breath, trembling from the power thrumming in my
veins. “What do I do? I don’t know how to stop it!”
A vision of three charred bodies materializes behind my eyes, and I
whimper. Just because they were awful to me doesn’t mean I want them
dead. If they die, their blood is on my hands.
Blood on my hands, again.
“Focus!” He spins me to face him, curling his hands around my upper
arms. “If you can work through your fear of alicorns so quickly, I know you
can conquer this. Picture the fire like it’s an extension of you.”
With a hard swallow, I shudder, closing my eyes and doing as he asks. I
imagine the magic like it’s an extra limb. “Okay.”
“Good.” His fingers trail down my arms before he breaks contact. “Now
rein it in.”
Somehow, I do just that. I imagine myself pulling in my magic like it’s a
physical rope. When I open my eyes, I’ve regained control. At once, the
flames contained within the icy barrier die down.
With a flick of his wrist, Thorne shatters the barrier and douses what
remains of the blaze with his power.
He addresses Olive. “Are you all right?”
Eyes wide, she nods.
Relief sweeps over me, but it’s short-lived. I could have killed someone.
Would have killed multiple someones if not for Thorne’s timely
intervention.
My heart pounds in my ears as a wave of nausea causes me to sway.
 Turning to Thorne to thank him, the words shrivel on my tongue.
Instead of the concerned expression he wore a moment ago, his features
radiate pure wrath. The air around him practically vibrates with suppressed
rage. Even though I know it’s not aimed at me, a little frisson of alarm
skates over my skin.
This is more furious than I’ve ever seen him. Given that he’s not Mr.
Sunshine on a good day, I’m a little scared to watch this play out.
“Did you see that, Instructor Thorne? That bitch tried to kill us!” Mark
wheezes and gestures wildly at his head. I wince. Someone clearly isn’t
reading the room.
When I check out his head, I wince even harder. Pale circles of naked
skin pepper his scalp where the fire singed off his hair. Flames also
devoured the bottom right leg of his uniform trousers. I can’t tell if he
suffered any serious burns beneath the ruined material, but I’m guessing
not. Those types of wounds hurt too much to complain about jacked-up hair.
Elijah fared better. His hair and uniform appear to be intact.
Of the three of them, Trevor took the biggest hit. He’s curled up in the
sand, writhing and moaning. Angry red blisters already cover his arms and
hands.
Guilt pierces me at the sight of Trevor’s damaged skin. Elijah is right. I
did that. My fire hurt him. But only because the three of them ambushed us.
If Olive and I didn’t defend ourselves, there’s no telling how far they would
have taken it. For all I know, we’d be dead.
Elijah gestures at him. “See what she did? She needs to be dealt with.”
Power radiates from Thorne. Millions of tiny sparkling ice crystals
encase Mark’s hands and spread up his arms.
Thorne stalks toward him, eyes alight with anger. “The only ones who’ll
be dealt with are you three assholes.” He spares a quick glance for Trevor
and sighs. “Two for now, I suppose. Mortimer! Holte! Take this fledgling to
the infirmary. Looks like he’ll require burn ointment.”
I startle. When did Helene get here? I twist my neck to find her and do
another doubletake over her expression. The hate I expect to find directed at
me is absent. In fact, for a single heartbeat as our eyes meet, I swear her
face crumples with regret. Then she moves to assist Olive with Trevor,
leaving me to question my own sanity.
Dragons fly. Water is wet. Helene hates me. That’s the natural order of
things.
 Once Thorne is certain Olive and Helene are following his orders, he
resumes his threatening posture. “Where were we?”
Elijah bristles, and Mark’s jaw drops, but they remain silent.
Smart decision. If I were them, I might need a change of pants right
about now.
Thorne’s voice seethes with barely contained malice. “Care to explain
what happened?”
Elijah shrugs. “We headed to the beach to unwind,” he narrows his eyes
at Mark, sending him a silent message, “and Axton just decided to pull this
little stunt out of nowhere.”
Thorne’s gaze shifts between the two remaining attackers, the smile that
peels back his lips pure poison. “I was hoping you would lie.”
Ice encases their feet, rendering them in place. Mark opens his mouth,
but Elijah shoots him another not-so-subtle warning glare.
Slower this time, the ice travels up their bodies, forming an ice cocoon
from their boots to their knees.
“Let’s try this again.” Thorne lowers his hands. “Anyone care to talk
now?”
Mark’s throat works on a swallow. Beads of sweat break out on the bald
spots peeking through his patchy hair. “There’s nothing to say, sir.”
“Ah.” A wicked grin spreads across Thorne’s face. “And I was hoping
you’d say that.”
The ice tombs climb higher, reaching their thighs in slow motion.
Horror flashes across Mark’s face, and he starts to hyperventilate.
His lip curls into a snarl, and the hatred in his eyes chills me to my core,
as if I’m the one whose body is encased in ice.
Thorne flicks his wrists, speeding up the torturous freezing process.
He’s enjoying this. And he’s doing this on my behalf. That fact does
funny things to my insides.
There’s got to be something wrong with me.
The ice travels to each fledgling’s chest. Thorne’s long yawn gives off
the impression that he finds slowly freezing people alive simple child’s
play.
They have to be extremely uncomfortable, and a small part of me—a
very small part—feels a little bit sorry for them.
“Well,” Thorne sends the ice trailing up to their shoulders, “you can tell
me the truth or hang out here for a while. Your call.”
 Sheer terror flits across Mark’s face. “Okay.” He shoots an apologetic
look at Elijah. “I’ll…talk.”
Thorne’s mouth tilts up in a lazy smile. “Just when things were
getting…interesting.”
Mark struggles to take a breath, teeth chattering when he speaks. “We
were just trying to root out the traitor and make Holte tell us about the
Kamorian.” Words tumble from his mouth as he rambles on about their
ploy.
Elijah nods his agreement as his lips pale to a lovely shade of blue.
A pang of concern shoots through me. Thorne nailed it when he called
these guys assholes, but that doesn’t mean they deserve to die. And that’s
what’s going to happen if this interrogation continues much longer.
I step forward, laying a hand on Instructor Thorne’s arm. “You need to
let them go. They’re going to get hypothermia.”
For several heartbeats, he remains silent. Just when I’m scared he’ll let
these recruits freeze to death in front of me, he releases a beleaguered
groan. “Must you always be such a killjoy? But fine, if you insist.” The ice
blocks shatter, sending glittering shards flying. “You’re both out of chances.
Pull a stunt like this again, and you won’t be so lucky next time.”
Nick and Theo return, along with a few other fledglings. While Thorne
orders everyone around, telling them to take Elijah and Mark to the
infirmary, Theo rushes up to me and grips my shoulders.
“You’re okay? I was worried about you for a while there.”
I manage a shaky smile. “Me too, but yeah, I’m okay.”
After giving me a once over, he whistles. “Damn. Who knew that all
this time, you’ve been holding back that kind of power? And to think, I
liked you even before I knew what a magical badass you were.”
Before I know what’s happening, he leans in, brushing his mouth over
mine.
I harden into a statue as his lips press against mine. Nothing. Just like I
thought, I feel nothing. No sparks. Not like I do with…him.
Swallowing hard, I step back and take a deep breath, preparing to let
him down gently. “Theo…”
Movement registers in my peripheral vision.
Finished with the other fledglings, Sterling Thorne glares death at the
spot where Theo’s hand still grips my arm.
OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirty-Four

Thorne’s jaw clenches, and every muscle in his body stiffens. A chilly
aloofness settles over his features as he spins and stalks away.
Turning back to Theo, I search for a reason to excuse myself. Theo
reaches for me, and for an instant, I’m terrified he’s going to kiss me again.
Instead, he tweaks my nose. The unexpected gesture is something I imagine
an older brother would do if I had one.
“It was a gamble…kissing you.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and
rocks back on his heels. “Probably should’ve known better.”
My heart sinks at the sadness in his voice. “I’m sorry. It’s just⁠—”
“You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Maybe not, but I still feel like I owe him an explanation. “When I
arrived at Flighthaven, I was…well, I was terrified. And you put me at ease
from the moment we met in the mess hall. You were nice to me even when
some of my own unit didn’t seem too thrilled that I was here.”
“Is that what you thought? That I was being nice to you?” Some of the
twinkle returns to his bright blue eyes.
“Call it whatever you want, but you’ve been a friend to me from day
one. And I don’t want to lose your friendship.”
He’s quiet for a moment. Then his lips tip up in a half smile. “You’re
pretty okay yourself.”
I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Does that mean
you’re not upset?”
 “How can I be? If I didn’t have you as a friend, who would I pick on?”
I snort. “Olive, for starters. And literally everyone else. It’s kind of your
specialty.”
He puts a hand to his chest in mock exasperation. “I’m offended.”
“If you say so.” My mood turns somber, and although Theo’s laughing,
I want to make sure he’s truly okay. I heave a sigh. “Is everything…I
mean…are we⁠—”
“We’re good, Lark. I promise. Now, you and Thorne? That’s another
story.”
My jaw drops. “What does that mean?”
“You know what I’m talking about.” He levels me with a don’t give me
that bullshit look. “I’d be blind if I didn’t see that something’s going on
between you two. And based on the way he stormed off a few minutes ago,
I get the impression he’s not too happy.”
Why does this conversation remind me of the chat I had with Olive not
too long ago? “He’s an instructor. I don’t know what you think you see, but
fraternizing with instructors is against the rules.”
“I’m well aware. Just be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you get
hurt.”
“Like I said, there’s nothing between Instructor Thorne and me.
Absolutely nothing.” It’s not a lie if I only want there to be something
between us, right? “And his happiness or unhappiness isn’t my problem.
But really, when does he ever look happy?”
He shrugs. “Fair point.”
“Exactly. Anyway, I’ve got to ask him a question about flight
maneuvers.”
“Oh,” he draws out the word, “is that what we’re calling it these days?”
His teasing voice, though, doesn’t quite mask the undertone of concern.
I roll my eyes.
His grin returns in full force, revealing both dimples. “Pretty sure you
meant to say charming, or⁠—”
“Whatever.”
Theo’s laughter follows me as I twirl around and head in the direction
Thorne went.
When I reach a sharp bend in the cliff along the coast, I lose track of the
footprints. Did he go a different way? Or go for a swim? I scan the area
with no luck.
 Frustration zips through me. He could be anywhere.
Maybe it’s just as well. I don’t even know what I planned to say if I
found him.
Sighing, I give my surroundings one last cursory glance before pivoting.
I might as well go back to the dorm and get some rest. After everything
that’s happened, my body is starting to crash. I should climb into my bed⁠—
An arm snakes around my waist and hauls me backward. I go rigid,
inhaling a deep breath. Before I can scream, a hand clamps over my mouth,
and I’m plunged into semidarkness.
The temperature is cooler in this small space. Moisture shines on the
rock walls. I’m in some sort of…cavern…tucked away into the side of the
cliff.
Panic squeezes my heart like a fist.
Think. You’ve got to think.
I lift my foot, then kick back with as much force as I can in this
position. My boot connects with flesh.
My attacker grunts, dropping the hand from my mouth and loosening
the arm around my waist. “What the hells, Duchess?”
Panic changes to confusion and quickly morphs into outrage. I whirl
and find myself eye level with Sterling Thorne’s chest.
He steps back, wincing as he leans down and rubs his shin. “Was that
really necessary?”
“Was yanking me into a,” I wave in a circular motion, “cave really
necessary?”
“When you’re standing out there looking like a lost puppy, yes. I’d say
it was.” He straightens and crosses his arms. “What were you doing out
there, anyway?”
Lost puppy?
I inhale through my nose in a futile attempt to tame my growing ire.
Because honestly. What was I doing out here? Give me a break. “I was
looking for you, jackass.”
Thorne scoffs. “Why? So I can finish what he started?”
My eyes narrow. “If you didn’t have your head up your ass, you’d know
Theo’s just a friend.”
His lip curls. “Forgive me. I didn’t realize he was such a close…friend.”
“He kissed me, not the other way around. It didn’t mean anything. But
you know what? I don’t need to explain myself to you. Not after your little
speech earlier today.” I clench my jaw against the storm raging inside me
and pivot to leave.
Turbulent emotions flash across his features. He searches my face, a
silent war in those beautiful brown eyes.
I’m not sure which side wins. I only know that his jaw tightens with
resolve and, a moment later, his mouth crashes into mine.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirty-Five

When our mouths first collide, shock holds me captive, molding me into a
frozen doll. With a single lick of his tongue along the seam of my lips, he
brings me back to life.
Heat. Desire. Need. All three course through my veins and ignite my
blood like dragonfire. I part my lips, moaning as his tongue strokes mine in
a kiss equal parts seductive and dominant.
Closer. I need him closer.
Pushing up on my toes, I wind my arms around his neck. He grabs my
loosened braid, tugging my head back for just the right angle to ravish my
mouth. I love the taste of him. His scent. The way he takes command. How
every plunge of his tongue shoots another bolt of lust between my thighs.
Returning his kiss eagerly, I suck his tongue into my mouth, thrilled by
his needy groan. His lips brush against my jaw before they trail down the
side of my throat. He presses a feather-light kiss to the juncture between my
neck and shoulder before biting down. The sharp pain pulls a whine from
me. He soothes the sting with his tongue, and I moan, the unexpected show
of possessiveness turning my body molten.
Thorne continues his sensual exploration, nipping and sucking his way
to the sensitive spot just above my collarbone. Liquid heat pools in my core
as he grips my hips and pulls me toward him so that there’s no space
between us. It’s still not close enough.
 Like a damn mind reader, he palms my ass and rocks his hips. The hard
length of his arousal presses against the spot where I need him most,
triggering an intense burst of pleasure with every strike.
Oh gods. “I need…” I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Tell me, Duchess. Tell me what you need.” He punctuates each word
with a kiss at the corner of my mouth.
“You.” I gasp when he nips at my lip. “I need…you.”
Thorne cups the nape of my neck, and my eyes flutter open. “Are you
certain?”
I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. “Yes.”
His answering groan is guttural. Primal. “Then let me take care of you.”
My desire for this man far outweighs the niggling sense of doubt at the
edges of my mind. If we get caught, the consequences will be disastrous.
Damn the consequences.
For these stolen moments, he’s mine.
Our mouths collide once more as he slides a hand between us. He snags
the front of my pants, undoing the top button with deft fingers and kissing
me like we’ll only ever have this brief time together.
And maybe that’s true.
But I can’t think about that right now. About what will happen
tomorrow or next week or next month. About…anything. Right now, I only
want to feel.
“I tried to do the right thing.” He flicks another button open. “Tried to
stay away.” A third button. “Tried not to get sucked in by those beautiful
eyes and that fierce spirit. I did my best to push you away, but you kept
coming back and tearing down my defenses like they were made of
parchment.”
The final button bursts open, and anticipation coils low in my belly as
his hand eases beneath the top edge of my undergarment and slides south.
Dips lower and lower, until I stop breathing. Stop moving. Until every
nerve in my body feels as taut as a guitar string dying to be plucked.
I’m wound so tight that when his fingers brush that bundle of nerves, I
jerk as if struck by lightning.
His hand stills. “Is this okay?”
I nod. More than okay. Perfect. But my brain’s too hazy to communicate
any of those thoughts.
 Thorne presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “Going to need to hear you
say the words, Duchess.”
He leans his head back, and in a haze, I stare into his eyes. “I…” What
was the question?
Concern clouds his gaze. His hand starts to ease away.
I clasp his wrist. “Don’t stop…please.”
The concerned expression morphs into a wicked one. “Since you asked
so nicely…”
His hand slides back down. Grinding his palm against my clit, he
plunges a finger inside me.
White-hot-pleasure courses through me, making me pant. I arch my
back, and through our clothing, the sensitive peaks of my breasts brush
against his hard, warm body.
“Fuck.” The word is a low growl. “You’re so wet.”
His words—hells, his actions—should embarrass me, but the rightness
of this moment crowds out all room for shame. A connection too strong to
resist.
Another finger slips inside me. My body is on fire as he teases me with
light touches. My hands slide to his shoulders, curling into the soft material
of his shirt as my hips rock on his fingers.
His strokes grow frenzied as his mouth finds mine again. There’s
nothing practiced or controlled about our kisses. They’re hungry, raw, full
of need.
He circles my clit with his thumb and draws my lower lip between his
teeth. Every fiber of my body responds. The tension in my lower belly
builds.
If something doesn’t happen soon, I’m going to combust.
“I,” my voice is breathy and foreign, “don’t think⁠—”
“Don’t think.” He kisses the sensitive spot just below my ear. “Just let
go.”
His thumb moves in small circles, winding me tighter and tighter until I
teeter at the breaking point. His teeth skim my throat. With a final, firm
press of his thumb and a sharp nip at my flesh, I hurtle over the cliff, the
tension exploding as pleasure pulses through me in waves. I cry out his
name. I’m falling, floating, and I don’t ever want to be pulled back in.
“So fucking perfect.” Thorne’s fingers slow, then ease out of me.
“Keeping my hands off you has been killing me.”
 It takes a few moments for the pleasure-induced fog to clear before my
brain can form words. “Then maybe stop trying.”
He half laughs, half groans. “You make it sound so simple.”
After buttoning up my pants, he wraps his arms around my waist and
pulls me closer, brushing his lips across mine. His erection pokes my belly.
I reach for him, wrapping a hand around the hard ridge tenting his pants. He
groans and rocks into my palm once before gently tugging my hand away.
“Not now. I need to go back to make a report or else someone will come
looking.”
It takes me a second to make the connection. Elijah and Mark. The fire.
“Oh, right.”
Everything comes rushing back. To my utter horror, my nose starts to
burn, and my lip quivers. My eyes mist with tears. I try to blink them away,
but they spill over, dripping down my cheeks as a sob climbs up my throat.
“I’m s…sorry. I don’t…it’s just…I was so sc…scared.”
With more tenderness than I knew he possessed, Thorne wraps me in his
arms and presses his lips to the top of my head. “Shh. I know you were, but
it’s okay. You’re okay now. You did great.”
I cry into his shirt, clutching the fabric like it’s the only thing holding
me together. “I c…could have k…killed someone.”
He strokes a soothing palm down my back. “But you didn’t. If anything,
you saved someone. Multiple someones. Left to my own devices, I would
have happily frozen Durand and Levine solid and then watched with a smile
on my face as I shattered them into thousands of tiny pieces.”
That brutal visual disturbs me enough to stop my crying. He doesn’t
sound like he’s joking, either. He must be, though, because what he just
described isn’t even possible. Is it?
Sniffling, I decide not to ask. It’s the thought that counts, and the
violence of Thorne’s reaction tells me he cares.
I frown. This is the second time he’s come to my defense like this.
While I appreciate his protectiveness, the fact that he had to step in makes
me feel weak. “I can’t keep relying on you to save me from them. I need to
be able to defend myself.”
He pulls away, using his hand to lift my chin. “Your brain must still be
foggy from all that moaning you did a few minutes ago, so let me give your
memory a little nudge. From what I saw, you were doing fine all on your
own defending yourself from those two guttersnipes. You learned from that
first experience and let your power out to play this time around.”
Blinking, I realize he’s right. I did defend myself against Elijah and
Mark. “Okay. But now I need to learn how to control my power.”
He nods. “So you work on control. I don’t see that being an issue for
you when you managed to control it so quickly with only minor prompting
from me.”
“Let’s be real, Thorne. You helped by using your own magic to subdue
mine.”
He shakes his head. “I merely bought you some time to rein yours in,
which you did. And when we’re alone, you can call me Sterling.” With his
thumbs, he gently swipes the dampness from beneath my eyes before
cupping my cheeks. “Do you have any idea how magnificent you are?”
His husky, reverential rasp loosens the knot in my chest and fills me
with a warm glow. The praise heats my cheeks, and I can only imagine the
lovely shade of pink my skin’s become.
Thorne’s—no, Sterling’s— eyes bounce between mine, as if waiting for
me to respond, but I have no idea what to say. What’s the correct reply to a
question like that? Yes, of course I know how magnificent I am. Talk about
arrogant. No, I have no idea, but feel free to tell me what magnificence level
you rate me at on a scale of one to ten. Fishing for compliments, anyone?
And maybe sounds unbearably coy.
So I say nothing, keeping my mouth shut and watching his grin grow.
“Who knew that complimenting you was the secret to shutting you up all
along?”
I give his chest a playful shove. “Please, Sterling. I’m only shutting up
because I’m drained.”
That makes him sober up. “Right. We should head back. When we
report in, follow my lead. I think it’s best if we try to keep the scope of your
power under wraps for now. Give yourself time to work with it more and
have better control before advertising it.”
“But Elijah and the others⁠—”
“Will be easy enough to discredit since people will believe they
exaggerated your abilities in order to make themselves look less weak.”
“Okay, but what about Olive and⁠—”
“I already had a quick word with your flight unit. They’re part of your
team and seemed happy enough to keep quiet.” His expression turns stony.
“As for that little creep who dared to kiss you, he’d best keep his mouth
shut.”
I open my mouth to protest his claim that Theo’s a creep. Close it when
I notice his body stiffen. As much as his show of jealousy inspires a tiny
thrill within me, I’d rather not push him, and I’m pretty sure Theo would
agree. “I’m sure he will.”
“Good.” His demeanor softens. “You really should be proud of yourself.
You’ve come a long way since day one. I’ll be the first to admit that I had
my doubts about your ability to succeed here, but you proved me wrong. A
rare event for me.”
I pat his chest. “You know, you really need to get that modesty issue
checked out. As in, I think somebody stole yours.”
He traps my hand beneath his. “Deflecting another compliment, I see. I
guess that just means I’ll need to give you more until you get used to them.
For example, you make the sweetest, sexiest little moans when I touch
your⁠—”
With a yelp, I clap my free hand over his mouth. “Okay, okay, I get the
picture. Didn’t you say it was time to go?”
He nips my finger to get me to remove my hand. “So I did.”
Thorne leaves the playful, passionate, and sweet lover persona in the
cave. With every step toward campus, I can feel him detaching himself
from me more and more. By the time we meet with Torno and Resnick to
relay the incident, his aloof, grumpy instructor mask has returned in full
force.
His act is so convincing, even I’m tempted to believe I’m nothing to
him but an annoying student.
Doubts surface, but I push them away. I don’t like leaving things this
way, but with faculty observing, I have no choice other than to smile and
bear it. At least Helene’s presence in our dorm room keeps Olive from
pestering me with questions. Later in my bed, Thorne’s words replay in my
head. I’m startled to realize that I’ve shown huge improvements beyond
flying, strength, weapons, and magic. With the lowered doses of magic
suppressant, my dizzy and weak spells have declined too. That alone
bolsters my confidence.
In fact, now that I think about it, my dizzy and weak spells seem to
disappear and weaken in direct proportion to my dosage. Is it possible the
remedy caused them in the first place? And if so, did my mother know?
 Betrayal rises in my throat, flooding my mouth with bitterness. No. I
can’t believe Mother would do something so awful. And for what purpose?
What could she possibly get from making me believe I was too fragile to
leave home?

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 Chapter Thirty-Six

Those nagging worries still circulate when I’m under the shower the next
morning. I lather my hair as yet another worry crosses my mind. How will
Instructor Thorne…Sterling…react when I show up for my lesson,
considering what happened between us last night? After everything we
shared, will he put his walls back up and act like nothing happened?
Surely not.
But what will I do if he does?
I’m not naïve enough to believe he’s in love with me. It’s not like he
tries to pretend. Still, what we shared was open and honest. Real. For a
short time, the world fell away.
Heaving a sigh, I rinse my hair and quicken my pace. Sterling may have
treated me like a princess last night, but the last thing I want to do is tempt
fate and risk his irritation by being late.
After I clean my teeth, get dressed, and braid my hair, I leave the dorm
and try to steady my racing heart. When that doesn’t work, I steel myself
for whatever comes next since I have little choice to do anything else.
The morning, at least, is perfect. A mild breeze glides past, stirring the
scent of fragrant flowers and dewy earth. Given the early hour, no one is
milling about.
My steps slow as I approach the alicorn stable. Sterling’s not waiting for
me outside as he sometimes does, impatiently tapping his boot.
Anxiety swells in my chest.
 Is he having second thoughts about last night? Ashamed he stooped to
the level of fraternizing with a student? Decided not to waste time on
someone so much less experienced than him?
Get a grip. You didn’t even sleep with him yet, and already you’re losing
your damn mind.
As my uncertainty builds, I tell myself he has to be in the stable. Last
night aside, we have a lesson, and he’s not one to shirk a commitment.
Resolve steeling me, I step inside the building.
Strong arms clasp my waist then tug me into the shadows of an empty
stall. My back hits a hard, muscled chest. The scent of leather and soap
invades my senses.
He’s here.
My heart pounds in my ears, so loud I’m certain he can hear it too.
Spinning me to face him, Sterling trails his fingers down the side of my
face. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“It’s not like I had much choice.” I shiver as his thumb brushes the skin
just under my lower lip. “If I’m late, there’s this grumpy instructor who’ll
have my ass.”
“Grumpy?” A laugh rumbles in his chest. “I’d have said attractive,
skilled, sexy, charming, intelligent⁠—”
“Did you just learn what an adjective is?” My lips curve up despite my
best effort to hide my smile. “Add cocky to your list too.”
“I’m offended.” He lowers his head and whispers in my ear, his warm
breath skating across my skin. “Like I said, that mouth is going to get you
into so much trouble.”
I give in to a streak of boldness. “I’d like to get into even more trouble.”
He pulls back and searches my face, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
“Keep talking like that, and your lesson won’t involve riding an alicorn.”
Tiny shivers dance down my spine as indecent images pour into my
mind. I feign outrage, pressing a hand to my chest. “You’re so
inappropriate.”
“You don’t seem all that bothered by my…inappropriateness.”
“Want to know something?” I pitch up on my toes, and when he inclines
his head, it’s my turn to whisper in his ear. “I’m not.” I press a kiss against
the faint scar on his jawline.
With a groan, he lowers his forehead to mine. “I swear you’re going to
be the death of me.”
 “Who pulled who into the stall? It’s starting to become a habit.”
“You’re a habit I don’t mind forming.”
For several heartbeats, we stare at each other, neither saying a word.
Then I don’t know who moves first as his mouth covers mine.
The kiss is soft and sweet and relaxed, like we’ve got all the time in the
world. He draws languid circles on my lower back that match the pace of
his mouth. Winding my arms around his neck, I tunnel my fingers through
his silky hair.
He skims his tongue across my bottom lip and groans. “Mmm. Just as
sweet as I remember.”
Sweet doesn’t even begin to describe the act of kissing him. My body’s
alive with sensations. One minute, I’m on top of a mountain. The next, I’m
falling—spiraling—and if I’m not careful, I’m going to crash and burn.
With his left hand, he cups my neck. He presses his lips against the
corner of my mouth, then my jaw, then the sensitive spot below my ear.
Grabbing my wrist, he pulls me into the storage room next to the stall
before flicking his wrist so that frost forms over the doorknob.
“There. Now you can’t complain about the stall.”
I giggle. “Yes, because a storage room is such a big upgrade.”
“It’s locked.” He loops an arm around my waist, tugging me flush
against him. “Don’t have to worry about interruptions.”
When I consider the potential reasons for needing a lock, my breath
hitches. “The room you sometimes use to sleep in in the stable was too
messy?”
“Too far away.”
I’m about to say it’s only in the back of the same building, but then his
lips brush mine. “Right. Smart man.”
“Thank you.” The laughter rumbling in Sterling’s chest vibrates through
me. “You going to compliment me all day or show me how much you
missed me?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
I shrug. The movement causes the tips of my breasts to brush against his
chest. “How nice you are.”
“We both know just how nice I can be.” His darkened gaze boils my
blood. “But I know how much you like it when I misbehave.”
He’s not wrong.
 “You’re so full of yourself.”
Sterling splays his free hand on my hip, eliciting tiny shivers all over
my body. “Your ability to go from complimenting me to insulting me in
thirty seconds amazes me.”
While his playful tone teases, there’s nothing teasing about what he
does next.
His lips brush mine, tentative at first, like he’s waiting for permission. I
wind my arms around his neck and kiss him back, giving him all the
consent he needs.
Pulling me even closer, he angles my head back and begins a slow
exploration of my mouth. Somehow, it’s just as hot as his other kisses…the
ones where he devours me.
I brush a thumb over the base of his neck before tunneling my fingers
through his silky hair. He groans, a low guttural sound that sends a rush of
heat straight to my core.
“Fuck.” He nips at my lower lip. “I can’t get enough of you.”
Same.
My body responds to him no matter how much I tell myself to be
careful. To guard my heart. There’s a hollow ache inside me that only he
can satisfy. And still, no matter how much he gives me, I want more of him.
He slides his hand under my shirt and skates his fingers over the bare
flesh of my lower back.
I gasp. “Sterling…”
Hands stilling, he slams his eyes shut and takes a breath. “You have no
idea what hearing my name on your lips does to me.” He opens his eyes.
“But if we don’t stop, I’m going to fuck you into oblivion in the storage
room.”
Gods.
My entire body goes up in flames. “Why don’t you?”
“Thorne! Are you here?” Vice Commander Torno’s voice carries from
somewhere outside.
Shit.
We break apart like we’ve been struck by lightning.
“That’s why,” he whispers while finger combing his hair into
submission. “Follow my lead.”
He unlocks the door and walks out, motioning for me to do the same.
 Once we’re in the aisle, Sterling launches into an explanation of the
safest way to fly in strong winds.
“I never thought about that before.” I plaster what I hope is a studious
expression on my face. “What should I do if⁠—”
“There you are.” Torno’s boots thud on the floor as she strides our way.
Sunlight filters into the stable, glinting off her auburn bun. Shielding her
amber eyes against the piercing morning light, she glances from Sterling to
me. Her shrewd gaze rakes over me, taking in my flushed cheeks and
rumpled shirt. An eyebrow hitches toward her forehead.
I want to burrow under a pile of hay. She knows. I swear she knows. I
bet my impure thoughts about the man standing next to me are written all
over my face.
Though I want to slouch and hide my face, I stand up straight, chin
high, and stare at a point somewhere over her left shoulder.
Sterling, on the other hand, leans against a stall with one knee bent,
studying his nails.
After scrutinizing me for a small eternity, she fixes her attention on him.
“I was hoping to discuss arrangements for the upcoming trial.” Her
eyebrow rises again, and her mouth twitches. “That is, if you’re free.”
A chill runs down my spine. She suspects. She must. What happens
next? Does she report us to Bigley? Do we undergo a disciplinary hearing?
Will I get kicked out? Will Thorne lose his job?
Uncertain whether I’m overreacting or not, I stay at attention, nails
biting into my palms.
Torno drums her fingers against her thigh. “Am I interrupting a training
session…at this early hour?”
His face is unreadable. “We were just finishing a lesson.”
Relief trickles into me, allowing my shoulders to slump the tiniest bit. If
Torno had any idea what the lesson I just had entailed, surely she’d march
us both to Bigley’s office.
Fighting some strange urge to laugh, I don’t dare move or speak.
“Axton’s finally caught up enough for our one-on-one training sessions
to end.” His tone drips with measured indifference. “I’ve been going over a
few additional safety issues with her this morning.”
My heart squeezes at how easily he switches off his emotions. But
despite the mask of arrogance and aloofness he slips on, I’ve caught a
glimpse of the real Sterling Thorne. At least, I think I have.
 Torno’s lips set in a thin line. “And do you feel that she’s an asset to her
unit?”
Seriously? I’m standing right in front of you.
“I do.” Sterling’s quiet for a moment, like he’s choosing his next words
carefully. “I am confident that her flying skills will serve her unit well.”
My insides warm at his appraisal, surprise and satisfaction filling me.
Even if he was trying to save his ass with Torno’s conversation-
interrogation, I know he’d never say what he did unless he believed it.
So why does frigid disappointment freeze the warmth inside me? The
extra training sessions had to end at some point since catching up with my
unit was the whole point of the lessons.
“Axton,” Torno levels her gaze on me, “do you have a question?”
I’m not following. “A question?”
“Yes. Do you have a question about your training?”
Is this a trick? Am I supposed to have a question? I sneak a quick peek
at Thorne, but his expression gives nothing away. “Um, no. Not at the
moment.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“I—”
“You’re dismissed, Axton.” With the intensity of Thorne’s cold, cutting
tone, I half expect to see ice crystals materialize on my skin.
His reaction is a ruse. It shouldn’t hurt my feelings. I understand this,
and yet, my heart still twinges. This icy, impersonal version of Thorne is my
least favorite. “Yes, sir.”
I reach the door as a commotion kicks up outside. Shouts, followed by a
cry of pain. My legs launch into action without conscious thought, racing
toward the ruckus as my heart beats double time.
Torno yells after me, but I don’t catch her words. I burst outside with
my hand already reaching for my dagger and my head swiveling to locate
the threat.
There. Between the alicorn stable and the dragon aerie.
Two large, cloaked men lead a third smaller man by a chain. The
restrained man appears worse for wear. A rust-colored substance—maybe
blood?—mats a lock of dark blond hair, which is longer on the top and
short on the sides. Purple and blue bruises bloom on most of his swollen
face. Wrinkles, dirt, and bloodstains compete for space on his gray tunic.
He limps as he struggles with his captors, yanking on the chain that attaches
to his cuffed wrists. The reek of acrid sweat, unwashed body, and vomit
wafting from him makes me fight off a gag.
At this early hour before breakfast, the campus is quiet. No one else is
nearby to intervene.
I perform this quick assessment as I race toward them. “Hey! What’s
happening here?”

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 Chapter Thirty-Seven

The cloaked man closest to me swivels around and lowers his hood,
revealing closely cropped dark hair. From beneath a broad forehead, hard
hazel eyes appraise me. “We’re conducting confidential business for the
king. Please turn around and go about your business.”
He opens the cloak to show his Flighthaven uniform. A dragonrider
insignia glimmers against the navy fabric, just below his left shoulder.
Torno pulls up beside me. “Rider Millyk, please excuse this interruption
and carry on.” Her hand circles my bicep. “Let’s go, fledgling.”
She pivots and tugs on my arm to follow. The tension in her grip and
urgent movements lead me to believe there’s a hidden danger here. Or
maybe something she doesn’t want me to see.
“You! You’re the one.”
The raw, scratchy voice halts me in my tracks. The hair on the nape of
my neck lifts. Surely, he doesn’t mean me. Why would he? I’ve never seen
him before in my life.
I turn around anyway, ignoring Torno’s tugging. “Are you talking to
me?”
The prisoner’s attention stays glued on my face. He lunges toward me,
only to be yanked back with a vicious jerk of the chain and to stumble to his
hands and knees.
Rider Millyk growls. “You, shut up or I’ll make you shut up.”
 The prisoner gives no sign he heard. Wincing, he climbs to his feet, his
gaze never once leaving my face.
I register his identity with a gasp. The hairstyle. The harsh sound of the
consonants on his tongue. He’s the Kamorian. The man who broke into the
dorms and attacked my bed with a knife.
Torno’s fingers dig into my muscle. “Fledgling Axton. We’re going.
Now.”
Her stern tone warns of repercussions if her command goes unheeded.
My feet refuse to budge. “I’m the one, what? Why did you target me?”
Because even from this brief interaction, it’s clear that chance didn’t lead
him to my room. He broke in with the intention of finding me and stabbing
me. Taking my life.
Fuck Torno. I think I have the right to know why.
The Kamorian falls to his knees, lifting his chained hands beneath his
chin as he pleads. “It’s for the greater good, don’t you see? Run. Hide. End
it now⁠—”
Millyk’s boot slams the prisoner’s ribcage, tipping him over. “I told you
to shut up.”
He grabs for the man’s shoulder, but the prisoner rolls away. “Don’t let
him use you! It says he needs the d⁠—”
A savage strike of the chain to his temple cuts him off. When Millyk
hits him again, the Kamorian collapses in the dirt. Unmoving.
My pulse stutters in horror. “Is he…did you kill him?”
“He’s not dead. Just quiet. I warned him to shut his mouth.”
Crouching, Millyk hauls the unconscious man over his shoulder like a
sack of grain, taking my hopes of finding answers with him as he strides
toward the aerie.
Torno sighs. “I’m sorry. I was trying to spare you from hearing that.”
“Do you know what he was talking about? What greater good? Who
does he think’s trying to use me?”
“The man is out of his mind. We tried to interrogate him, but he talked
in senseless circles, so we’re shipping him off to the king’s dungeon.” Her
expression shifts into one of sympathy. “I know in situations like this, it’s
normal to want to understand the whys. Unfortunately, sometimes logical
explanations don’t exist. I think this is one of those cases, but trust me, the
king will get to the bottom of it one way or another. And if he discovers a
reason this man targeted you, I’m sure you’ll be the first to know.”
 I let Torno lead me back toward the alicorn stable, to where Thorne
awaits, hands in his pockets, shoulders propped against the wall. The pose
appears casual, but I know how to check for the tiny hints that point to his
façade. The taut, corded neck muscles. Twitching thigh. How he tracks our
approach with hawkish intent.
He hides it well, but the man is practically swimming in tension.
“Everything okay?”
Torno releases me. “All good now. Axton, go on and head back.” When
I don’t move, she pats my shoulder. “I know that was an ugly scene but
shake it off. He’ll be gone soon and won’t bother you again.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” I murmur.
Thorne and I lock eyes over Torno’s shoulder, and I search his face for a
gesture of support. Even the tiniest glimpse that he cares. A softening of his
eyes. A quick inclination of his head. Hells, even a godsdamned blink. But,
in true Thorne form, he gives me nothing beyond the hints of tension
lurking underneath his skin.
Frustration. Anger. Shock. All three battle for dominance. I’m frustrated
that Torno and Millyk stopped the prisoner from talking, pissed that not a
single person involved with his capture thought to ask if I wanted to face
my attacker, and shocked by the way he begged on his knees for me to
listen. And as long as I’m being honest, I’m hurt too. I understand the valid
reasons preventing Thorne from running to my side and pulling me into his
arms, but what prevented him from joining me like Torno did? His presence
alone would have been enough to provide comfort.
Truth be told, maybe Thorne was right to resist for so long. I’m not sure
I’m cut out for a hidden relationship. Would he even characterize what’s
between us as a relationship? Add that to the list of things to know before
you let your hot teacher stick his hands down your pants.
“Fledgling Axton, I don’t want to have to tell you again!” The vice
commander’s voice zaps me out of my thoughts. She extends her arms and
points. “Go. It’s almost time for breakfast.” Turning her back on me, she
gestures to Thorne. “Let’s have that discussion.”
Thorne straightens with lithe grace. This time, when he attempts to
capture my gaze, I avert mine. I feel the weight of his stare on my back as I
hurry for the dorm.
The weather becomes rainy and bleak during breakfast to match my
mood. I lack focus during classes, my mind continuously struggling to
make sense of the interaction with the Kamorian. Is the attempt on my life
the reason Leesa didn’t want me here? That seems logical, but how did she
know?
When that line of reasoning leads nowhere, I cycle through everything
else I’ve learned so far. Accepting the theory of my adoption, how does that
tie in with the murder attempt? With Leesa’s disappearance? A terrible
thought strikes me. What if the Kamorian abducted or killed Leesa? How
could I not ask?
Guilt forms a hard ball in my gut. I know how, and the answer is a flight
instructor who’s too pretty for his own good and drives me nuts. I fell under
his spell and spent far too much time mooning over him when I should have
dedicated every free moment to finding my sister.
That ends now. I refuse to dwell on Thorne any longer. Torno came
close to catching us today. If we continue sneaking around, we’ll eventually
get caught and Thorne will eventually break my heart.
After lunch, another mail delivery arrives. I receive a letter from my
mother, telling me she received word from the king. He wants me to
complete the trial first but agrees to grant me an exemption afterward.
Mother doesn’t specify the reason behind this stipulation so I can only
speculate. Perhaps the king worries about negative public perception if he
releases me from duty too soon. Maybe he believes I’ll choose to remain at
Flighthaven if my trial is a success.
Or, for all I know, King Xenon secretly hates our family and wants to
see both Leesa and me dead. As of now, one theory is as good as the next.
I refold the letter and take a walk, drinking in the sea-salt carried in on
the breeze and the damp-earth scent unlocked by the drizzle. Although gray
clouds choke the sky and chill the damp air, a sense of freedom washes over
me. Scary things keep happening, things I don’t understand, but at least I’m
no longer trapped in a gilded cage. I’m stronger, braver, and, as wild as it
seems, happier. I’m becoming a warrior. Do I really want to revert to my
former self? Could I even stomach returning to our castle, knowing my
mother lied and essentially poisoned me?
After dinner, my mood darkens again. I decline Olive’s invitation to
play a board game with her, Nick, Abel, and Theo. Since Helene’s
somewhere with her unit, I curl up on my bed and start flipping pages.
The guilt from earlier rears its ugly head, pushing me to work harder to
unravel the mystery of Leesa’s whereabouts and all the other oddities. This
book on Tirene isn’t getting me anywhere, and the book on gods, oracles,
and prophecies I checked out of the library hurts my head.
I toss both volumes to the side, pulling out Leesa’s list to see if I’ve
missed anything. The word ‘file’ snags my attention.
The records room is the one avenue I haven’t attempted to investigate
yet. Part of me hoped to enlist Thorne’s help, but that can’t happen. I need
to do this on my own, before the looming trial. Who knows what will
happen then? As much as I’ve grown at Flighthaven, everything is too up in
the air to predict the future. If I want to peek at the records, now is the time.

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 Chapter Thirty-Eight

A bright, cloudless moon and late arrivals on campus—probably additional

people to help with the trial—thwart my attempt to break into the records
room that night. When I narrowly avoid getting busted, I cut my losses and
creep back into the dorm.
The next night is a wash too. A few days pass before better luck comes
my way. Thick cloud layers shroud the moon, and I don’t encounter anyone
on the way to the administrative building or in the halls leading to the
records room. Today, most of the trial prep seemed focused either on the
outer edge of campus or off campus grounds, leaving this area quieter than
usual.
I worried that the locks here might prove trickier than the ones I
conquered at home, but with a little focus and jiggling, my hairpin tumbles
the mechanism with a soft click. I ease the door open, my skin prickling as I
scan the pitch-black room. Doubts root me in place.
This could be my most hair-brained idea yet. It’s not too late to turn
around. Before a guard pounces on me and tosses me in a holding cell. Or I
can continue down my current course of action, which is almost certainly a
fool’s errand. If I’m really lucky, when they catch me they’ll send me to the
king’s dungeon to share a cell with the Kamorian assassin. Maybe he’ll tell
me why he wants me dead just before he slits my throat.
I will my thundering heart to slow. Foolish plan or not, I’m committed.
Turns out, in this case, curiosity and desperation trump legitimate fear.
 Decision made, I sneak inside the room, stilling as a shiver dances
across the nape of my neck.
Is someone watching?
I hold my breath and tip my ear toward the cracked door.
One.
Two.
Three.
Nothing.
No more waiting. I reach for the handle to close the door⁠—
A hand snakes out and grabs my wrist.
Shit. Air punches from my lungs as my body tenses.
“Easy. It’s just me.”
Sterling slips inside and eases the door shut.
Pretty sure that just shaved a year off my life.
“What the hells are you doing?” I hiss. “You’re lucky I didn’t light you
on fire.”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m helping make sure you don’t land yourself in hot
water.” A tiny ever-light flares, spilling a dim glow into the inky room.
“And forget me…what the hells are you doing? Wait, let me guess…you
were out going for a walk and wanted to check on the records.”
Embarrassment rises over his pointed reminder of my previous excuse.
“None of your business. How did you know I’d be here, anyway? Are you
spying on me?”
“If by spying you mean I overhead you asking one of the other
fledglings what they knew about the security in this building, then sure.”
“Oh.”
“‘Oh,’ is right. You’re lucky I’m the one who heard and not someone
else.”
“Am I, though?” I mutter.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” I grind my teeth. “Look, if you’re here to talk me out of this,
you might as well leave now.”
His beleaguered sigh strengthens my desire to kick him. “If I thought
there was a snowball’s chance in hells of you listening to reason, I would,
but I know better. Like I said, I’m here to make sure you don’t get caught
doing whatever it is you think you need to do. You’d better hurry, though.
The longer we’re here, the more likely we are to get caught.”
 That takes the wind out of my sails. “Then quit talking to me so I can
get to work.”
Using the ever-light, I head straight for the set of wooden file cabinets
lined up against the wall. I make short work of the locks and start
rummaging.
The drawers contain a series of folders arranged alphabetically. The first
one dates back to students who attended five years ago. Moving on, I open
and close several drawers until I locate Leesa’s year.
“Find anything?”
“Almost.” I thumb through the As to Axton. “Here we go. Leesa’s file.”
I tug out the folder, sit cross-legged on the floor, and begin to read.
Shadows flicker over his face. “Don’t get too comfortable. We need
to⁠—”
“Hurry, I know, I know. I heard you the first time. Also, not a complete
idiot.”
“Are you sure about that? Because if you’re asking my opinion⁠—”
“I’m not. Also, shh. I can’t hurry if you keep interrupting me.”
I can sense him seething as he towers over me with the ever-light like an
angry god but do my best to ignore him. I flip through Leesa’s file, finding
what I expected. Family and medical history, magical element and projected
power level, and instructors’ notes on her excellent service. Nothing that
points to her concerns about dragons or anything else. Nothing at all out of
the ordinary, except for a summary at the end about her disappearance.
I glance over at Sterling.
He leans toward me, worry in his eyes. “What did you find?”
“Your evaluations of Leesa. Thanks for thinking so highly of her.”
“She deserved it.” His mouth crooks up. “I wasn’t being kind.”
“Gods forbid I’d ever accuse you of that.”
He huffs. “Hurry. We’re already pushing our luck.”
Once I finish scanning Leesa’s file, I return it and hunt for my own.
Like my sister’s, the first few pages document my family and medical
history. Unlike Leesa’s, my medical history holds a lengthy list of my
various ailments over the years. My brow wrinkles. A very lengthy list.
Almost as if my mother took extra care to document every significant dizzy
or weak spell over my entire life. Except I don’t recall seeing a healer or
medic nearly that much.
 The family history section reads much the same, with the exception of
one small detail. A question mark follows my mother’s and father’s names.
Does that mean someone at Flighthaven has the same questions I do
about my true parentage?
I skim the instructor evaluations. My face burns as I read Kinneck’s
accurate but awful appraisal from my first week of class. Based on his
remarks, a reasonable person would have expected Bigley to punt me to
Forthaven to join the foot soldiers.
Celeste Dawson, my weapons combat instructor, leaves kinder
comments about my skills with a bow and arrow and quick progress with
other weapons. Maybe she’s the reason I didn’t get kicked out my first
week.
Digging deeper into my file, I come upon Sterling’s assessments. My
first reaction is to ignore them and avoid any hurt. Curiosity overcomes my
reluctance. I want to know what he thought of me in the beginning.
To my astonishment, there’s nothing in there about my abysmal
performance when I started out or about my fear of alicorns and flying. In
fact, he only wrote two lines total.
Given Axton’s aptitude with weapons and her remarkable improvement
in flying skills, she’ll be an asset to Flighthaven and the King’s Flyers.
No unusual or rare skills/abilities noted.
That second line strikes me as a bit peculiar. I don’t recall Leesa’s
evaluation from Thorne noting unusual skills or lack thereof, but maybe he
just had more to say about her overall. Taken on its own, I might even be
offended. Luckily the first part overrides any insult.
I reread the end of the first line. An asset to Flighthaven and the King’s
Flyers.
My chest warms as I turn to Sterling. “Do you really mean it?”
“Mean what?”
“Your evaluation of me, where you said I’d be an asset.”
Leaning over my shoulder, he swears under his breath. “Quit reading
that shit and find what you’re looking for. We don’t have time for this.”
“Okay, okay, sheesh.” By his alarmed tone, you’d think I caught him
bad-mouthing me rather than saying something nice. Although, with him,
that’s probably the issue. He’s more comfortable dishing out insults than
compliments.
 With my focus back on my file, I flip to the end of the folder. “Do you
think⁠—”
Thorne covers my mouth with his palm. “Shh. Listen.”
At first, I hear nothing. Then I catch a faint creak creak.
Nerves turn my fingers into noodles. The file slips from my hand and
slaps the floor, the noise an explosion to my ears in the otherwise quiet
room.
Crouching, I snatch the file and cradle it to my chest. Thorne’s glare is
the last thing I see before he douses the light. In the darkness, we wait.
Sweat dampens my palms. My heartbeat drums in my ears.
The creaking grows louder. Footfalls, I think. They approach the door
and pause outside.
Sterling pulls me to a door in the far corner, which opens into a storage
closet. The space is so tight, we’re pressed together.
The doorknob rattles. Teeth clenched, I try to recall if we locked the
room from the inside. A metal noise sounds, then the slight whoosh of the
door being opened.
A bead of sweat slips down my back as someone enters the room.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirty-Nine

Pressed against Sterling, I struggle to slow my breathing.

He rests his palm over my mouth, his arm tight around my waist,
keeping me from making any noise or moving.
Illumination from a lantern seeps in from beneath the closet door,
spilling over our boots. I cringe. Footfalls slap against the wood floor, the
sound growing faint, along with the light, as the sentry steps toward the
bank of files.
Eyes squeezed tight, I can’t recall if I reopened the drawer after Sterling
closed it. If I left the drawer open, I hope whoever’s out there doesn’t notice
or care.
Tapping fills the room, as if the sentry is drumming a cabinet. The
swishing sound signals…a drawer opening?
I clench Sterling’s tunic, my knees bumping his. He holds me tighter,
his increased grip warning me to keep quiet. I nod my compliance. When he
lowers his hand from my mouth, I press my face to his shoulder, needing
his closeness. Inhaling his familiar leather and soap scent helps calm my
frantic nerves.
A faint click suggests the drawer is shut.
Feeling sick, I swallow the bile rising in my throat. More noises follow
as the sentry shuffles around the room. The stress is going to give me a
heart attack.
 Without warning, Sterling lifts my face, his smooth, warm lips gliding
over mine. The kiss takes the edge off my anxiety by providing a
momentary distraction. After a few moments, he eases back and presses a
finger to my lips.
I nestle my face against his shoulder, his chin resting on my head, each
of us quieting our breaths. The room has fallen silent, and the lantern light
has vanished.
I press my mouth to his ear. “Are they gone?”
Sterling’s shoulders lift in a shrug. He touches his mouth to my ear.
“Don’t move.”
He forces us to wait for ages, my body hyperaware of him against me.
Finally, after those ages pass, he cracks open the closet door and pauses.
My heart jumps to my throat.
“He’s gone, but we’re out of time.”
The ever-light comes back on, washing the room in an eerie glow.
Nothing looks amiss.
I make a beeline for the cabinet. Blocking Thorne’s view, I quietly
remove the last page from my file before returning the folder to the
designated spot. Folding the paper, I shove it in my pocket. Too risky to
read here, so I’ll do it later. If Thorne knew I tore the page out, he’d throw a
hissy fit, so I decide to spare us both and not tell him.
“Let’s go.”
With him leading the way, we sneak from the room. After turning down
the next hall, we run into trouble in the form of a guard at the far end of the
corridor.
Thorne yanks me back around the corner. My pulse ricochets. “Now
what? He’s blocking the way out.”
Thorne hesitates before tugging me in a different direction. He leads me
into another building, this one lit with ever-light lanterns on the walls.
“Quiet,” he murmurs.
A series of widely spaced doors line the corridor, but he pulls me down
one with a single door at the end.
After opening the door, he pulls me inside the room and walks to a large
window to part the curtains. During our time in the records room, the cloud
cover eased. Moonlight spills into the space, turning everything a silvery,
magical shade.
 Confusion grips me. The interior’s spacious and well-appointed.
Luxurious rugs blanket the stone floor, and a huge canopy bed draped in
thick blankets and furs dominates the space. Two upholstered easy chairs
and a table sit in front of a fireplace. “These are your instructor quarters?”
Sterling nods.
“You could be sleeping here all the time but instead, you choose to sleep
near the smelly alicorns most nights? Make it make sense.”
He shrugs. “The room in the stable is closer to the outdoors and nature.
I don’t like feeling trapped.”
I study the bed. “It’d be hard to feel trapped in that bed. It looks big
enough for ten people.”
A beat passes. Two. My breath hitches as an image of Sterling and me
naked beneath those silky covers flashes through my mind, and my teeth
sink into my lower lip.
The atmosphere thickens.
He prowls toward me, hair mussed, sin filling his gaze. “You’ve been
avoiding me.”
“No, I haven’t.” I’ve totally been avoiding him. Gulping, I back up.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“I’m finishing what we started, before you fled the other morning like a
scared rabbit.”
Outrage sparks beneath my skin. “I did not flee like a scared rabbit!”
“Then what would you call it?”
“Strolling. I strolled away after you hung back and watched me talk to
that assassin as if you couldn’t care less. As if you weren’t interested in me
at all.”
He releases an incredulous laugh. “Is that what you think? That I’m not
interested in you?” His expression darkens. “I suppose you’re right,
though.”
His callous agreement twists a knife in my heart. A painful knot clogs
my throat. “Of course.”
“Interested is far too tame a word to describe how I feel about you.
Obsessed, bewitched. Those come closer.”
My battered heart gives a hopeful beat. “Th-they do?”
He stalks closer, backing me up until my legs hit the bed. His knuckles
graze my cheek. “They do. Though that doesn’t change my stance that this
is a terrible idea.”
 His lips brush mine, and I sigh into them. “We both know something
being a terrible idea hasn’t stopped me yet.”
His bark of laughter morphs into a groan when I nip his lower lip.
Grabbing my hips, he inserts a battle-hardened thigh between mine and
rocks against me, matching the rhythm of his tongue as it plunges into my
mouth. With each thrust, heat builds in my core. My legs start to shake and
my release hits while I cling to him and cry out.
Afterward, he undresses me first, and then removes his own clothing. I
drink in the sight of him. The first time I saw Instructor Sterling Thorne, I
thought him beautiful. I was wrong. Beautiful doesn’t begin to describe
him.
He’s…magnificent.
His body is all hard planes and toned muscle, honed from years of…
what exactly, I don’t know. Training? Fighting? My gaze dips lower to his
rippling abdominals, and then lower still. My heart stutters.
“See something you like?” His teasing words pull me back to reality.
Heat creeps up my neck as I tear my gaze away from his arousal.
“Apparently, you do.”
“I do.” His eyes roam over my body like a caress. “Very much.”
The reverent way he regards me, like I’m special, beautiful even…
makes me long for something I know I can’t have.
Don’t go there. Just enjoy what’s happening now.
Later, there will be plenty of time to analyze my feelings about what’s
happening between us.
His hands trail down my bare arms, and tiny goose bumps erupt on my
skin. “Beautiful.” He captures my hands and brings my right one to his
mouth, pressing a kiss in my palm. “You’re so damn beautiful.”
“I—”
Thorne’s mouth possesses mine. Urgent. Hot. Demanding my active
participation.
I loop my arms around his neck, exploring, tasting, memorizing him.
My fingers map the curve of his shoulders. They move on to trace his
vertebrae and the taut muscles of his back, the action causing my breasts to
brush against his chest.
His moan vibrates in his chest. “Fuck.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
 He shakes his head. “One of these days, that smart mouth of yours is
going to get you in trouble.”
I can’t stop my grin. “I think it already has.”
He laughs, a throaty, velvety sound I could get lost in. “Can’t argue
there.” He lowers himself on the bed, tugging me down with him.
In a matter of seconds, Thorne’s body is over mine as I lie on my back,
head propped up on a fluffy pillow.
Reaching between us, I wrap my hand around his hard length and guide
it to my entrance. “I need you.”
His molten gaze locks on mine. “You have no idea what those words do
to me.” He rocks his hips, eases his way inside, and then stills, cradling my
face in his hands. “You okay?”
I nod. It’s tight, full, and a little uncomfortable, but not painful.
“You sure?”
“Yes.” My answer comes out as a whisper. “Are…you?”
His fingers trail down my left cheek. “Perfect.”
He shifts, then thrusts, and discomfort is the furthest thing from my
mind.
It’s…incredible. He’s incredible.
As he drives into me over and over again, instinct has me rocking my
hips to match his rhythm. The only other time I’ve done this was awkward
and hurried…an experience I never wanted to repeat. Until now. Until him.
Each expert stroke leaves me yearning for more. My body’s a raging
fire, this mysterious, powerful man stoking the inferno.
It’s both too much and not nearly enough.
“More.” I struggle to catch my breath. “I need…more.”
His body responds to my plea by driving deeper. Harder. Filling me.
Surrounding me. Consuming me.
“You have me, Duchess.” He slams into me, eliciting a moan from deep
inside me. “All of me.”
He lowers his head to my breast and draws my nipple into his mouth,
sucking hard.
Pleasure coils in my core, winding tighter and tighter and tighter still.
“Oh, gods.”
“Say my name. I want to hear my name on your lips when you come.”
He nips and licks the sensitive peak. His teeth rake over my nipple.
I unravel.
 “Sterling.” His name tumbles from my lips as I come undone. I savor
every moment, committing the feel of him inside me to memory.
With a low growl, he gives a final frenzied series of thrusts. I roll my
hips and ride out the waves of pleasure as we shatter together.
The words slip unbidden from my lips. “I love you.”
Silence follows, broken only by panting.
Afterward, he rolls onto his back and pulls my head to his chest. One of
his hands strokes my hair.
My skin prickles at his lack of a reaction, yet I don’t regret what I said.
Even if I could take the words back, I wouldn’t. I don’t want to play games
with him. I need honesty between us.
Given the little details he’s let slip about his past, I understand why he
can’t trust anyone’s love, mine included.
I know he cares. He’s proven this in a hundred ways, from his
persistence in teaching me to bond with Zephyr and to conquer flying him,
to protecting me tonight so I could search the files.
A man who feels nothing wouldn’t have bothered. He would have
laughed when I asked for help and told me to fuck off if I kept nagging.
Sterling wasn’t thrilled with what we did, but he stayed at my side
throughout.
That’s everything to me.
I roll toward him and prop my head on my palm.
His lids remain down, his powerful chest no longer rising or falling as
he holds his breath…waiting for whatever I might say this time. His pain
and fear when it comes to getting close makes me sad, but I hate this
awkwardness between us and want it to stop.
I stroke a finger down his chest. “It’s okay, you know. That you didn’t
say it back. I value your honesty above all else, especially since it seems
like so many people I care about have been lying to or at least hiding things
from me. I know you care, and I trust you. That’s what matters.”
The hand stroking my hair tightens. My scalp stings for an instant
before he relaxes his grip.
“I forgot to tell you, the king’s offered to issue me an exemption from
Flighthaven, with the caveat that I wait until after the trial. Apparently he’s
coming to watch.” His eyes snap open, and he doesn’t return my smile. A
tiny sliver of ice slithers down my back. I continue talking anyway. “I’m
not surprised since my mother begged for that nonstop. But I’ve decided not
to take the offer.”
His chest rises. Falls. “Why?”
That single curt word bristles with accusation, and another icy prickle of
doubt needles my spine. No, that’s silly. I must be reading into things. A
good night’s sleep will banish these ridiculous misgivings and soften his
cranky mood.
Shoving aside any lingering unease, I trace a faint scar on his forearm.
“Because Flighthaven is where I belong. Once I complete my training, I’m
going to become part of the kingdom’s flight brigade. And, believe it or not,
I’d love to one day fly dragons.”
His throat bobs. He diverts his attention to the moon shining through the
windowpanes.
I hold back a sigh. “I know you don’t believe I’m serious, but⁠—”
“Go.” He glares at me. “You should leave.”
I blink at his sudden change in demeanor. “I thought you said it’d be
easier if I waited until the morning.”
I try not to take offense. He could be a bed hog or have an embarrassing
snoring habit. Maybe he coos like a baby in his sleep.
“Not leave my bedchamber. Leave Flighthaven.”
The doubts return, frosting my skin. What the hells has gotten into him?
Why this rapid switch back to his asshole version?
His face reveals nothing as he stares at the window, chest falling with
each harsh exhale.
I squeeze my fists at my sides. “You can’t be serious.”
He sits up and crosses his arms, leaning against the headboard. “I am. If
you were smart, you’d leave Flighthaven and never look back.”
I want to scream, but I push down my outrage.
“Why would you say that? And why did you spend all this time training
me if you just wanted me to leave?” This sudden about-face makes no
sense. “There’s no way I’m going home. It’s…not my home anymore.”
He refuses to meet my gaze. “If you don’t want to go there, run away
somewhere your mother will never find you. Maybe Kamor.”
I grip the footboard to steady myself and attempt to make sense of this. I
have no idea what changed, but I’m certain it’s not just the king’s coming
exemption.
 “Why are you suddenly so desperate to get rid of me? Why are you
hells-bent on me not even being in the kingdom any longer?”
He runs his hand down his face.
“Answer me, Sterling. You owe me that.” I inch closer. “I know you
don’t doubt my ability to succeed here. At first, sure. But not anymore. So
what’s behind this sudden change? Because I said I love you?”
His throat works on a swallow. “It’s not…sudden.”
I want to laugh at the absurdity of this conversation. He can’t be
listening to what’s coming out of his mouth. “You fucked me like you
wanted me, yet now you’re pushing me away?”
“That’s all it was…fucking. Don’t make it into something it’s not.” He
rises from the bed and paces across the room. “As far as your abilities, I
won’t deny you’re skilled. But there is no you and me. We have no future…
we don’t even have a present.”
He can’t mean that. Despite his frosty tone, sorrow flits across his face.
And then it’s gone, replaced by an impenetrable mask.
I refuse to accept his behavior. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you
have no feelings for me.”
“We had a fucking fling, all right?” He stops pacing and closes his eyes.
“It was never going to last.”
Memories of our brief time together whirl through my mind.
You’re so damn beautiful.
You’re a habit I don’t mind forming.
I can’t get enough of you.
Hurt and anger battle for dominance inside me. “I never pegged you as
a coward. But it’s clear that’s what you are. You can’t even look me in the
eye when you’re breaking up with me.”
“Breaking up with you?” He scoffs. “You couldn’t have believed we’d
ever have a real relationship. Even you aren’t that naïve.” At last he pegs
me with his indifferent gaze. “We’re as far apart in personality and life
experiences as two people could get.”
If he expects me to buy that explanation, he’s lost his mind.
“You’re saying you want someone exactly like yourself?” I laugh,
hating how rattled I sound.
“Take it whatever way you want.” He shrugs. “I couldn’t care less.”
Except he does. That truth is in his touch, the passion, the acceptance of
me as his equal. So why the hells is he acting like this?
 With jerky motions, I yank on my uniform and shove my feet into my
boots. Anger dominates the moment, but the pain waits. My heart screams,
and all those previous feelings of unworthiness come rushing back. I don’t
want to be here when the inevitable breakdown comes, because fuck him.
He doesn’t deserve my tears.
“Excuse me for believing for even a minute that, despite living my life
in a gilded prison, even someone as naïve and inexperienced as me deserves
to be part of a caring relationship.” Regardless of my effort to keep myself
together, my voice cracks. A hot tear rolls down my cheek. “Apparently I
was wrong.”
“Fuck, Lark.” He reaches for me. “Wait.”
I dodge him and dash out the door. With my blurred vision, I don’t
notice Torno until she stops dead in my path. “Fledgling Axton? You
shouldn’t be in the instructors’ quarters at this hour. What are you doing
here?”
Shit. Of all the bad luck.
Dashing my eyes with the back of my hands, I rack my brain for a
believable excuse while she inspects my appearance. My tousled hair and
disheveled clothing stands in stark contrast to her military bun and casual
uniform, both perfect even at this time of night.
“I’m sorry. I was just…”
I sniffle and, to my utter horror, begin crying in earnest. Seconds pass
by. Her attention shifts from me to Thorne’s door, and I brace myself. Not a
single part of me holds any doubt.
She knows.
That’s why the next words out of her mouth stun me. “Return to your
dorm, Axton. It seems as if you’re having a rough night, so we’ll let this
one slide. Don’t let this happen again.”
That’s it? No punishment for breaking the rules? Is this a gift to Thorne
or to me? Or is this a matter of lucky timing? Perhaps Torno doesn’t want to
bother with this while prepping for the trial. “Of…of course.”
As I hurry down the hallway, I chance peeking over my shoulder to see
if Torno approaches Thorne’s door.
She doesn’t. The vice commander doesn’t even spare Thorne’s quarters
a glance as she proceeds down the corridor.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Forty

“Run me through it one more time.”

Olive squeezes my hands as she sits facing me on my bed. Halfway
through lunch, she dragged me back to our room and demanded that I tell
her what happened. Apparently, my face wasn’t doing a stellar job of hiding
my heartbreak. Who’d ever guess that spending two hours on sleep and an
equal amount of time on crying would leave me less than fresh?
Stifling a groan, I re-summarize last night’s events with Thorne. By the
end, I’m ready for a prolonged nap.
“Here’s my opinion, for what it’s worth. You told him you loved him,
right?” I nod. “If I had to guess, it sounds like he’s feeling things for you
that scared him, so he deliberately tried to push you away. Which is actually
good news.”
I gape. “Okay, I’ll bite. In what realm is Thorne telling me I’m too naïve
for a relationship with him, that it was only sex for him and nothing else,
and literally trying to convince me to leave the kingdom good news?”
“The realm where he’s going out of his way to act an oozing pustule and
hurt you. If he didn’t care, he’d shrug and be indifferent to whether you stay
or go, but he wasn’t, was he?”
“Well, no, but remember this is Thorne. He maintains a base level of
assholish-ness at all times.”
“True, but that doesn’t explain why he flip-flopped all of a sudden.” She
taps her index finger against her chin. “You said all this started right after
you told him about the king’s letter, right?”
My shoulders droop. “Right, but I can’t see how me turning down an
exemption would factor in…unless he really does believe I can’t hack it
here and should leave. He might never have suggested it before because he
didn’t believe I’d get one.”
After what happened with her brother, I feel bad discussing this with
Olive, but she acts unfazed. “Could he have been upset about the king
coming to watch the trial?”
I rub the back of my neck. “I suppose, but I don’t know why. He and the
king are supposedly tight, so why would that bother him?”
Olive toys with a loose thread on her collar. “Just considering all the
possibilities. Either way, I bet you caught him off guard. I bet once the
shock wears off, he’ll come around.”
Though not completely sold, her optimism bolsters my spirits, because I
see her logic. His overboard reaction did come out of nowhere. That’s part
of why it hurts so much. “Thanks, Olive.”
“That’s what friends are for.” She leans in for a quick hug. “Come on.
It’s almost time for the assembly.”
At the assembly, Bigley’s announcement about King Xenon’s
attendance at the trial comes as a surprise to all the fledglings apart from
Olive and me. However, the follow-up about his imminent arrival this
afternoon and the subsequent party Flighthaven will host in his honor
tonight is news to us too. When Bigley releases us for the remainder of the
day, excitement spreads like wildfire among the fledglings. The
opportunities to let loose are a rare enough occurrence here that even most
of the men sound hyped about dressing up and dancing.
Olive excuses herself, claiming she wants to meet with Resnick to ask a
question about her magic. On my walk back to the dorm, a hand grabs my
upper arm from behind. My heart skips until I realize the hand is too small
to be Thorne’s. I spin and my muscles coil, preparing me for a potential
threat. “Helene. Do you need something?”
“Not here.” She tugs me toward the dorms. I dig in my heels, staring at
her hand. Her aggrieved snort tells me what she thinks of my unspoken
demand, but it does the trick. She releases me and, with an exaggerated
flourish, gestures me forward. “After you.”
Does she think I’m an idiot? “Yeah, no. I don’t think so. After you. I
insist.”
 She rolls her eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. What do you think I’m going to
do, tackle you in the stairwell?”
I lift my eyebrows because, yes, actually. That wouldn’t surprise me at
all.
Fixing me with a scathing look, she stomps ahead. I trail behind her
while rubbing my temples, praying whatever this is about is quick.
Inside our room, she paces the floor. I sit on the bed and wait her out.
I’m about two seconds away from leaving when she stops in front of
me. “You should leave Flighthaven. Tonight. Everyone will be at the party
or worried about who’s flying in. I doubt they’ll spend much energy on
who’s leaving.”
I sputter a laugh. “Seriously? This again?” I shake my head. “Twice in
one day, what are the odds?” I mutter.
Her forehead creases. “What are you mumbling about? No, never mind.
It’s not important. Leaving is.”
Exhaustion seeps into my bones. “You know, I thought you stopped
trying to threaten me into leaving, that you and I were past this. Guess I was
mistaken.”
She wraps the end of her braid around her fingers and tugs. “We were,
but that was before I knew the king was coming.”
Frustration roars through my veins. “The king again. Why does the king
making an appearance change anything?”
Glancing at the door, she lowers her voice. “Because Leesa didn’t start
acting weird until after the king’s last visit.” She swallows. “She told me
that if she ever vanished for some reason and her sister showed up, that I
should try to get you to leave. And that you should avoid the king at all
costs.”
I scoff. “Do you really expect me to believe you and Leesa were
friendly enough for her to tell you something like that? Please. I know I’m
not very worldly, but even I’m not that gullible.”
“You’d better believe it, because it’s true.”
“Yeah? Prove it.”
Helene flexes her fingers like she’s picturing them around my neck.
“Did you go through her belongings yet and find a dragon pendant?
Because I gave that to her.”
My gaze slides to the bedside table, where I stashed the necklace I
found in the stairwell. The pendant looked expensive. “You gave my sister a
dragon pendant.” My flat voice oozes with disbelief. “Even if I bought that
story, why would you do that?”
Helene finds something fascinating to study on my comforter and clears
her throat. “We were, um, dating.”
I shriek. “You were dating?”
She jumps, checks the door, and then shifts back to me with a scowl.
“Shut up!” she hisses. “I don’t need everyone knowing my business.”
I cross my arms. “If you two were dating, why didn’t Leesa ever
mention that in one of her letters?”
Her scowl becomes a frown. She closes her eyes, her expression pained.
“Probably because I told her we needed to keep it a secret. My family…
they wouldn’t understand. That’s also why she broke up with me, if you
must know.”
Damn. She seems so genuine, I almost buy it. But this is Helene we’re
talking about. Although, if she’s telling the truth, I suppose that could
explain why she tried to frighten me off when I first arrived. “Why go
through all this? Why not just tell me?”
“You mean, like I’m doing now? Because that seems to be going really
well so far, don’t you think?” Okay, point taken. “Also, no offense, but I
didn’t know you and had no idea if you’d go running off telling everyone
about us. I figured scaring you away would be more effective.”
“So Elijah and Mark…?”
“Total ratfuckers. They’d be just as happy to see you dead as gone.”
A surprised laugh barrels up my throat. “Don’t sugarcoat it for me or
anything.” I scrub my palms down my face. “Sorry, this is a lot to take in.
Do you have any other proof? Though, it probably doesn’t matter. I’m not
leaving. Not yet, anyway.”
Helene glares before tossing her hands in the air. “Whatever. At least
my conscience is clear, knowing I tried. You wanna thumb your nose at
death, be my guest.”
Ah. There’s the Helene I know and love.
I call out as she storms toward the door. “Do you think she’s still alive?”
She bows her head, her hand stilling on the doorknob. “I don’t know.
All she told me was that the king was asking a lot of questions about you. I
think she kept me in the dark at first to protect me, and later, because I was
no longer someone she took in her confidence. I pray every night, though.”
 With that, she sweeps from the room, leaving me to wrap my brain
around this new information in silence.
“Leesa, what did you uncover?” I whisper while pressing my palm over
my heart. “And why didn’t you tell someone?”
More determined than ever, I scan the book Leesa left with Royce.
Three-quarters of the way in, I flip a page and squint, tilting the book
toward the window. It’s a section with information on dragoncallers. In the
sunlight, I swear I spot a faint groove beneath the word. As if someone
underlined it using an ink tip without ink.
Excitement skitters down my spine.
Time has erased how and why the dragoncallers came into existence.
Records indicate the first sighting of the winged people with these
incredible powers was centuries ago.
The passage continues.
Those in Kamor and Aclaris envy and fear the Tirenese dragoncallers
for their power over dragons, the most powerful creatures on Earth.
As I read more of the passage, I realize what struck me as odd about the
narrator. Unlike other books I’ve read about kingdoms outside Aclaris, this
book favors a Tirenese perspective. I noticed when reading about past
skirmishes. I notice again now. The author was almost certainly Tirenese
and possibly slanting this so-called history in their favor.
Connected to dragons through a mental bond, a dragoncaller can read
the feelings and emotions of their namesake. A lesser-known fact is that,
while not as strong, they were often believed to possess empathetic
connections to other magical creatures too.
Though the Tirenese people in general require no use of outside herbal
or other supplemental enhancements to perform magic, it’s believed that
due to the strength of their magic, a dragoncaller’s use of such a
supplement could lead to deadly consequences. In fact, according to legend,
when first manifesting, even non-enhanced magic can result in disaster.
I stare at the words, my mind returning to the moment my magic first
manifested at our castle.
That morning, I was on the shared balcony outside Leesa’s and my
rooms, enjoying the way the sun eased the morning chill. To my surprise,
the bright glow stopped warming my skin and began to sting to the point
where I feared I’d blister.
 Not understanding, I stepped into a shadow. The burning got worse.
Reddish patches on my pale arms swirled then coalesced into five thick
lines that streaked to my fingertips. They burned and smoked. Next, sparks
flew from them.
In the distance, flames burst from the stable. The horses—that I was
afraid of—screamed. Servants yelled. The stable boy lost his legs. Our
stallions and mares died.
When my mother found out what I did, without me meaning to, she
came to a horrible realization. I could make fire without trying or using
eyril, which no one in this kingdom had ever done before.
Panicked, she paid an alchemist to concoct a remedy to tamp down my
magic and warned me to never tell anyone about my unexpected talent. Not
even Leesa.
To hide my magic from everyone.
Shuddering, I read on.
Young, untrained dragoncallers are susceptible to the beasts’ emotions,
the first several onslaughts confusing and easily overwhelming until they
gain experience and control. Headaches and nausea typically accompany
unexpected images, sounds, and ever-changing feelings that emerge from
the dragons to settle in the dragoncaller’s mind.
Stunned, déjà vu floods through me as I recall the day I faced
Flighthaven’s black dragon.
My pulse races, and my hands tremble.
With time and practice, those physical and mental issues fade, leaving
the dragoncaller to bond with the beasts and own the sky.
I lower the book, my heart plummeting into my stomach. The idea
solidifying in my mind can’t possibly be true, and yet, it must be. The
details line up…even the grave marker bearing my name. Because if I’m
right, then the couple I believe to be my parents did not sire or give birth to
me. If I’m right, my kingdom of origin isn’t Aclaris.
I’m Tirenese. And I’m a dragoncaller.

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 Chapter Forty-One

The revelation acts as an invisible sucker punch. I double over, heaving. All
the pieces fit. My entire life history has been one giant lie. No wonder I
don’t resemble anyone in the Axton line and my mother could never get her
story straight as to how my father died.
A storm of emotions raging inside me, I swing my legs over the side of
my bed. I want Sterling. He’s the one person who could comfort me right
now.
I rise from my mattress, then sink back down and slump when the
memory of our fight slams into me. Olive might be right about his cruelty
being intentional. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he does.
Without him admitting as much, though, I can’t count on him. And once he
learns I’m a dragoncaller, there’s no telling what he’ll do.
Unless he broke up with me because he already guessed my heritage.
Swallowing the knot of emotion in my throat, I squeeze my eyes shut.
I’ve never felt more alone in my entire life.
Noises in the hall cause me to sit up straight. Time to pull myself
together.
“Hey,” Olive rushes into the room, “what are you wearing tonight?”
Tonight. The party. For a hot second there, I forgot. “Not sure. I’m not
even sure I’m going.”
She gasps. “What? Of course you are. Great food, music, booze,
dancing. It’ll be fantastic. I know you’re upset about Sterling Thorne, but
think of it this way. The party is your best chance of seeing him before the
trial and to find out if he’s pulled that pretty head of his out of his ass yet.
And if he hasn’t, then sitting around moping in our room is letting him
win.”
Upset doesn’t even begin to describe my emotions.
I’m overwhelmed. Hurt. Confused. And those are just my feelings about
Thorne. Factor in King Xenon, Helene, and my dragoncaller theory, and it’s
a wonder I’ve managed to remain upright.
“I—” I suck in a breath. How do I even start to explain my suspicion
that I’m a dragoncaller? What would she think of me?
“You don’t want to let him win, do you? If he is, in fact, a terrible shit-
stain who got off on hurting and humiliating you?”
I sigh, lifting my chin. “No.”
Olive remains quiet for a moment before rolling her shoulders back.
“For the record, I still believe something’s not adding up. I saw him before I
came up, and he looks as miserable as you do. I think he panicked and just
needs a little time to process.”
“Or this was always a meaningless fling, and he never intended for it to
last.”
My roommate twirls an auburn wave around her finger. With her hair
down instead of in the usual bun, she looks like a different person. “If
Sterling didn’t have feelings for you, he wouldn’t be avoiding you.”
That makes absolutely no sense, but what do I know about men? Or
relationships? “If I agree to go, will you promise to quit talking about it?”
Olive squeals. ‘Yes! All done. Now, let’s get ready.”

After Olive works her magic on me, we enter a large hall decorated for
tonight’s event.
Flowers abound in a kaleidoscope of colors, from red to pale pink and
white, green, blue, yellow, silver, and even black. Enormous wall hangings
depict events from Aclaris’s brave revolution when we won our
independence.
Above us, hundreds of candles flicker in massive chandeliers, while
long tables groan beneath the weight of platters stacked high with steaming
pork, beef, lamb, and fish, those mouth-watering scents mingling with
spiced vegetables of every variety and baked goods glazed with sugar and
fragrant with cinnamon.
Olive nudges my arm. “No matter what happens with Thorne, you
deserve to have a good time.”
Recruits and instructors alike, all dressed in formal attire, laugh, dance,
and eat. I scan the crowd, but I don’t spot Sterling among the throng of
people.
“Wow, look at you two.” Abel joins us, flashing a wide smile.
“I’ll say.” Nick leans in, staring at us from over Abel’s shoulder.
“We should dance.” Abel throws up his arms and writhes as if he’s in
the throes of a seizure. Olive bursts into hysterics, and even I crack a smile.
Nick backs away with his hands up. “Yeah, I don’t know him.”
Not to be cowed, Abel wraps his arms around Olive. “Or we could wait
for a slow tune.” He starts grinding into the most over-the-top, sexualized
slow dance in the history of slow dances.
“Abel!” Olive squeals, smacking him upside the head. “What the hells?
How many glasses of mead have you had?”
“Five. No, wait, six?” At Olive’s horrified choke, he snickers. “Just
kidding. I’m one and done. No way am I over-imbibing with the trial
tomorrow. Do you think I’m an idiot or something?”
“Well,” all three of us say in unison.
Undaunted, he flashes us a cheeky grin. “On second thought, forget I
asked. Now, if neither of you ladies wants to dance, please excuse me while
I find a willing partner.”
Wiggling his fingers at us, he saunters off, running into Theo. Theo’s
holding hands with a pretty blond fledgling. He spots Olive and me and
winks before tugging the woman onto the dance floor.
I’m happy to see he’s moved on, though a bit wistful. If only I could
have fallen for him, or someone like him. But no. I had to go and fall in
love with a grumpy flight instructor.
My gaze travels the crowd. No king yet. Maybe the news of his
attendance is purely propaganda and he won’t show. While that would come
as a relief, part of me wants him to appear. He could be the only person who
knows Leesa’s whereabouts.
Continuing to scan the crowd, I go still. The music, conversations,
laughter. It all stops. My heart leaps like the traitor it is as I drink in Sterling
from across the room. His dark hair is pulled back, and in stark contrast to
the Flighthaven uniform, he’s decked out in the formal attire the men in our
society don for special occasions, complete with a black waistcoat, long
coat, and a high-collared white shirt.
His beauty steals my breath. Heartbreaker or not, there’s no arguing the
man’s downright edible. From the small crowd of women circling like
fanged eels scenting blood and the gag-worthy way Celeste Dawson fawns
over him, I can tell I’m not the only drinking him in with lust-glazed eyes.
Celeste presses her lithe body against his side and strokes his hand with
too much intimacy. Jealousy burns like acid in my veins as those long,
graceful fingers travel beneath his sleeve.
His eyes lock with mine, the force of the connection an iron fist that
squeezes my lungs. Turning away is as impossible as swallowing an entire
alicorn in a single bite. Not happening.
The other faces in the crowd fade into nothingness, leaving only him
and me. Trapped in his potent gaze, I can’t breathe or think.
My blood heats. My body yearns. My heart cracks all over again.
What looks like tenderness sweeps across his handsome face, followed
by a flash of misery as great as my own. Or maybe that’s just my mind
playing tricks on me and creating the illusion most likely to spare my
shattered heart.
Either way, his allure hooks me like a fish on a line, and those gold-
flecked eyes of his reel me in. Hopeless to resist, I follow the invisible tug
and step toward him.

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 Chapter Forty-Two

A hand on my sleeve stops me. “Whoa, hold up.” Olive regards me with
pinched brows. “Remember, that’s the guy you were all torn up about less
than eight hours ago. Now you’re going to walk right up to him? And say
what? If anything, that alicorn’s ass should come to you begging for a
second chance.” Olive eases me back.
Nick leans closer, confusion on his face. “What alicorn’s ass? What did
I miss?”
Olive slaps her hand on his chest and shoves. “Go away. This is girl
talk. Go find someone to dance with.”
She drags me a few steps away, putting a safe distance between us and
our Nick’s curious ears. “Thorne’s still staring.”
I train my gaze on the opposite end of the ballroom. “Is Celeste Dawson
still draping herself over him like a wet blanket?”
Olive shakes her head. “No. She keeps touching his hand, but he’s not
even looking at her.”
The hot ember of jealousy burns in my chest. Ridiculous, because I
have no claim to him, but my logic always flies out the window whenever
he’s involved.
A cute guy with curly brown hair and hazel eyes approaches Olive and
smiles. His gold emblem marks him as a dragonrider. “Would you like to
dance?”
Olive hesitates, biting her lip. “Thanks, but I’m hanging out with⁠—”
 “Go. Dance. I’ll be fine. I need a few moments alone to think, anyway.”
After another half-hearted protest, Olive takes the rider’s hand, allowing
him to lead her to the dance floor. “If you need anything, you know where
to find me.”
I wave her off, happy at least one of us gets to enjoy the party. They join
the other couples and glide across the floor. Olive’s smile lights up her face
as she spins beneath his hand.
My skin prickles with awareness again, and I search the sea of faces
until I find Thorne’s. When his gaze latches onto mine, I suck in a breath.
All my feelings for him surface, and the onslaught has me battling the urge
to approach him.
As I move in his direction, his cruel words from last night echo in my
head. I freeze. What am I doing? This is madness. He made his feelings—or
lack thereof—perfectly clear.
All of a sudden, my head spins. The room turns claustrophobic. There
are a lot more people here than just Flighthaven attendees and instructors.
The loud music and laughter seem ill-fitting for the situation. Every year,
people get injured and die in the trial, yet here we are, acting like it’s cause
for celebration. My spine tingles. I don’t know if it’s paranoia or if people
truly are watching me, but I sense eyes on me from all directions. Even if
Thorne hadn’t behaved like a prick, the last thing I need to do is risk a
scene.
Couples dance by, blocking him from view. When visibility returns,
Celeste has her dainty hand on his forearm. While his head is cocked
toward her like he’s listening to her words, his eyes stay fixed on me.
I press my hand to my chest. My inhalations grow shallow. Breathing
becomes difficult. Too much noise, too much perfume, too many invisible
threats. Far too many intimate memories of Thorne taunting me.
Sensing my hesitation, Thorne shakes Celeste’s hand off his sleeve and
steps toward me. My heart lodges in my throat. Whirling, I take off in the
other direction. I don’t know where I’m going. I just know I need to escape
this ballroom. Escape his presence, which tortures me with regrets and
threatens to stop my lungs from functioning properly.
I aim for the nearest exit. The crowd thins the closer I get to the open
door. I pass a group of fledglings drinking mead and a couple locked in an
embrace in the shadowy corner. By the time I burst into a hall, my lungs
and eyes burn. My nose too. I can’t fall apart here, though, not out in the
open where anyone could witness my breakdown. I need privacy to screw
my head on straight and lick my wounds.
I try the first door I pass. Locked. The next one’s locked as well. I keep
trying until, finally, a doorknob turns, and I slip inside a salon-like room. A
single lantern provides minimal light, just enough for me to declare the
space empty and to avoid collisions with the furniture. There’s a fireplace,
overstuffed sofas, and bookshelves crammed full of books. There’s a large
desk that appears unused.
I reach the desk first and trace the wood grain with my fingers. I’m still
catching my breath when the door squeaks open. I know who the intruder is
without turning around. “Why did you follow me?”
His quiet footsteps whisper across the floor until he’s standing behind
me. His body heat engulfs me, and his breath flutters the loose hairs on the
nape of my neck. “I told you why yesterday. You’re my obsession. After
you left last night, I couldn’t sleep. All I could remember was your taste and
how beautiful you look when you’re moaning my name.”
My heart lurches before squeezing into a tiny ball. I brace my palms on
the desk, inhaling through my nose. It’s either that or spin around and
throat-punch him. “You have some nerve. You said this was just a fling. You
told me we were nothing. You told me to leave Flighthaven. So let me
return the favor…leave and return to your pretty blonde advanced battle
maneuvers instructor, your alicorns, to literally anyone else. I don’t care
where you go as long as you leave me alone.”
Of course, Professor Contrary does the exact opposite. Instead of
walking away, he comes closer, crowding me until he has my stomach
pressed against the desk and his body plastered to my back. “But you didn’t
listen, did you? You didn’t go.” Frustration laces his words, but then his
voice softens. “You didn’t go, and now it’s too late. You’re stuck here.
We’re both trapped, and as long as that’s true, I plan to enjoy the one good
thing in this godsforsaken place. And that’s you.”
“Fuck you.” My voice quakes. “I hate you.”
“Good. You should hate me. But you want me too.”
His lips graze the nape of my neck, and a shiver ripples through me. His
hands circle my waist and slowly slide up my ribs. When he reaches the
underside of my breasts, he pauses, giving me plenty of time to protest or
push him away. I should. I know I should. But my heart and body are
ganging up on my mind. Two against one’s not a fair match. And what’s the
point of resisting, anyway? My life is a shit show. I might die in the trail
tomorrow. Hells, I could die tonight. For all I know, more assassins are after
me, and the king might want me dead. Elijah or one of his pals could come
for me in the middle of the night and slit my throat in my sleep.
Basically, everything is chaos right now and there are no guarantees. Is
it so wrong to enjoy the moment while I can?
When I don’t tell him to stop, his hands continue their leisurely journey
upward until they’re cupping my breasts. Over the flimsy fabric of my
gown, he brushes my nipples with his thumbs. When I arch into his touch,
he groans and rolls them into hard points between his thumb and finger,
shooting a bolt of need straight to my core.
I offer a weak protest. “Someone might come in. “
“They won’t. I locked the door.” He slides my left sleeve down my arm
and slips his hand beneath my bodice. At the feel of his warm, calloused
fingers on my naked skin, my legs tremble. “Turn your head and give me
your lips.”
I do as he asks, and his hot mouth devours mine. Kissing him is like
nothing else in this world. He owns my senses. Possesses me. I can’t get
enough. I could kiss him for hours. Days. A lifetime. But I know better now.
We only have this moment in time to share, and I’m going to milk it for all
it’s worth.
He breaks off the kiss. I whimper in protest. “Shh,” he whispers.
“Patience.”
Silk rustles, and then a draft hits my ankles…my calves. I feel him slip
the fabric upward over my knees and thighs. He pauses. “Tell me to stop,
and I’ll do what you asked earlier. I’ll walk away. It will kill me, but I’ll do
it.”
The moment of truth has arrived, except I’ve already made my decision.
I don’t know what his true feelings are for me. I’m almost positive he lied
when he said he didn’t care and that some convoluted logic convinced him
of the rightness of sending me away. Or maybe that’s just a fantasy and I
should take his words at face value. I can’t know what’s in his heart. I only
know what’s in mine. Despite his abhorrent behavior yesterday, I love him,
and this is very likely our last chance to be together. Maybe that proves I’m
weak but whatever. When everything’s said and done, I think not following
my heart would be my biggest regret.
“Stay.”
OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Forty-Three

Sterling shudders. A moment later, he hikes my skirt up to my waist.

Gripping my undergarment, he tears the fabric down the middle.
The unexpected violence of his action ignites my body and makes my
pulse throb between my legs. “Gods.”
“I am an impressive specimen, but referring to me as a deity may be
overkill. Sterling,” he rasps. “The only name I want to hear on your lips
when I’m buried inside you is Sterling.”
He slides his cock between my legs, stroking the velvety head against
my clit. “Fuck. It makes me so hard when you’re sopping wet for me like
this. Brace yourself.”
I try my best, pressing my palms into the wood. My muscles tremble in
anticipation.
He presses his palm into the small of my back, flattening my belly to the
desk. His cock nudges my entrance. That’s all the warning I get before he
slams home, bottoming out inside me, his hips smacking my ass.
I cry out, and he stops immediately.
“Lark? Fuck, was I too rough? Did I hurt you?”
For some stupid reason, a lump forms in my throat at his alarm. I shake
my head. “I’m good. Please, don’t stop.”
Growling, he thrusts his hips. “You don’t ever have to beg. You feel
incredible. Like you were made for me. I could live inside you and die a
happy man.”
 His declaration winds the pressure in my lower belly up even tighter. I
like the possessive nature of his fingers digging into my hip. The bossy
hand pinning me to the desk. I love how he takes charge, and I also love
knowing he’ll stop the instant I ask. He might be hazardous to my heart, but
I trust him with my body.
He pulls all the way out and slams back in. The delicious friction has
me moaning. Listening for my nonverbal cues, he adjusts his position until
he hits the right spot every time. With each thrust, I climb higher. My body
belongs to him, but the connection I feel with him inside me isn’t just
physical. It runs deeper than that, like something deep within him calls to
the very essence of me.
My release closes in. Sensing it, his fingers slip between my legs. He
circles his thumb once, twice. Three times. The fourth time unravels me,
and with a curse, his thrusts turn frantic as he follows me into bliss.
Breathing hard, he collapses on top of me, pressing a kiss to my
exposed shoulder. His heart pounds against my spine. I savor the weight of
his body and warmth while I still can.
A minute passes while he strokes my hair. “I wish we could stay here all
night.”
Voices outside the door interrupt my answer and snap me to attention.
Someone knocks on the wood. “Instructor Thorne. I need to speak with
you.”
Fear ices my skin. Torno.
Sterling’s fingers tighten on my shoulders. “Fuck. How does she know
I’m here?”
Wiggling until he stands up, I yank my sleeves back up my arms and fix
my bodice. I straighten my skirt next and comb my fingers through my hair.
“How do I look?”
Thorne’s eyes graze over me, and the emotion in them spurs my pulse
into a gallop. “You look like the woman I’d give anything to have. You look
like you’re mine.”
A soft gasp escapes my lips. “I don’t…that’s not what I meant, but
okay.”
Buttoning his trousers, Thorne presses a kiss to the tip of my nose. “I’ll
go first. You can wait a little bit and then come out after me. I’ll try to get
back to you tonight, but if I don’t, good luck in the trial. Watch your back at
all times, and stick close to your flight unit.”
 I nod. “Okay.”
With one last lingering glance, he spins around and heads for the door to
meet a grumpy-sounding Torno. “Took you long enough. The king would
like a word.”
The door clicks shut, leaving me alone in the room with just my
thumping heart. Scurrying across the floor, I crack open the door, peek into
the hall, and find Torno and Thorne disappearing around a corner.
Slipping out, I creep down the hall after them, pausing once I reach the
corner. Another peek shows Torno slipping into the second door down. She
glances behind her, and I duck just in time.
I count to twenty and then tiptoe around the corner. The door they
entered is shut. Inhaling a steadying breath, I reach for the doorknob,
turning it bit by bit. I send up a silent prayer and ease the door open the
tiniest crack, sagging a little in relief when it doesn’t creak. Pressing my ear
to the crack, I strain to hear the conversation. Torno’s speaking.
“…worried about him when she first arrived, but he must have known
what he was doing…caught her leaving…quarters…and pretty sure he
just…with her in the salon.”
The booming laugh that follows almost makes me jump. “Leave it to
Sterling to have his cake and eat it too. Nothing wrong with getting a hot
piece of ass while on assignment.”
In the lingering pause, my heart sputters. Dread floods my veins like ice
water. The king resumes talking. “What’s that look on your face for? Don’t
tell me you have feelings for her.”
Thorne chuckles. “The only feelings I have are the ones between my
legs when I’m buried between her thighs. Pretending to return her
infatuation was the easiest way to get close to her, and there’s no denying I
enjoyed the perks.”
Torno scoffs in disgust. “Can you please save the gory details of…
conquest for when…not in the room?”
“So? What did you find out? Is she the dragoncaller?”
“I don’t know. It’s possible, but I’m leaning toward no. She shows an
aptitude with fire, but I haven’t noted any connection or effects on the
dragons or alicorns.”
“Hmm,” the king says. “Well, let’s hope the trial gives us a more
definitive answer.”
 “If that’s all for now, I’m going to head to my quarters.” Thorne’s voice
grows louder.
“That’s fine. I need to speak to the vice commander, anyway.”
Shit. He’s heading toward the door.
I don’t wait to hear any more. Pulse pounding, I flee down the hall and
round the corner. I swear I hear a noise behind me, but I don’t stop to check.
I race down the next hall, desperate to rejoin the safety of the crowd.
Footsteps pound after me. “Lark. Where are you going? Wait up.”
Near the end of the hall, he catches up and reaches for me. The moment
he touches me, I jerk free and shove him as hard as I can. “Don’t touch me.
Don’t you ever fucking touch me again.”
A baffled expression pinches his brows together. “What the hells has
gotten into you? Are you upset that I left you so suddenly? I’m sorry, but I
couldn’t leave Torno waiting.”
Reaction is setting in. I’m shaking from head to toe. If I don’t get out of
here soon, there’s no telling what I might do.
The smart thing to do is feign ignorance, but the outrage and hurt
battering my chest demand an outlet, however small. “I heard you. I heard
what you said about me…about us.” His face falls, but I’m not done. “Now
you hear me. I hope you enjoyed this hot piece of ass while it lasted,
because you’ll never enjoy it again. Don’t look at me. Don’t talk to me.
Don’t think about me, and trust me when I say that I plan to forget you ever
existed. I knew you were broken, but I never realized you were completely
soulless and empty inside.”
His skin is ashen. “Lark, you don’t know…come with me, please. We
can’t talk here.”
As he gestures for me to follow him, a bitter laugh scrapes up my throat.
“Didn’t you hear me? We can’t talk anywhere. I refuse.”
I dart past him, but he catches my sleeve from behind. I stop. “Let me
go, or I swear I’ll scream the place down.” My voice sounds funny. Dead.
“Lark, please⁠—”
“Three. Two. On⁠—”
Once he releases my gown, I race away, but not before I hear him curse.
“Fuck!”
If I didn’t know better, I could almost believe he sounds genuinely
broken up and tormented. I do know better, though. I know he’s a charlatan.
A beautiful face covering a rotten soul.
 I slip past the ballroom, out the door, and down the trail leading to the
dorms, not stopping until I reach my room. The pain in my chest is
excruciating, like someone’s carving pieces from my heart, strip by strip,
and shredding them into confetti. I curl up on the bed in the fetal position
and drown in the agony of his betrayal.
Sterling Thorne didn’t just want a fling. It was worse. So much worse.
He used me. Tricked me. Took advantage of my feelings so he could spy on
me for the fucking king. He crushed my trust beneath his boots and
stomped it into dust. He’s working with the very people my sister tried to
warn me about. The people who want to exploit me for purposes I’ve yet to
discover.
I will never forgive him for this. Never.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Forty-Four

Gray clouds blot out the sun as I sit atop Zephyr, the drizzle dampening my
flight leathers in a stark reflection of my mood. All the flight units have
mounted in the temporary arena between the magic practice area and the
eyril field to await instructions. Last night’s pain retreated, leaving a
hollowed chest and a pervasive sense of numbness. That said, I made Olive
saddle Zephyr and fetch him from the stable. I have zero interest in ever
laying eyes on Sterling Thorne again. She knows something happened
between us, but no specifics. If this has proven anything, it’s that the
dragoncaller information is dangerous. I refuse to put my friends at risk.
From our position in the middle of the arena, we face five tiers of
seating stuffed with strangers from all walks of life. Several of them I tag as
nobles, looking regal in their velvets and silks, with their ample jewels
sparkling in the sun. Flags bearing the king’s crest and those of Aclaris
wiggle in the faint wind.
On the highest tier, Xenon’s thronelike seat dominates the others. Two
royal servants dressed in emerald green tunics stand at attention behind
him. His jewel-encrusted gold crown and deep scarlet tunic stand out from
the rest, as do his broad shoulders, long gray hair, and handsome face. His
smooth skin and physique put his firmness on par with a much younger
man’s.
Everything about him fills me with dread.
 Trumpets announcing the beginning of the trial blare. Spectators shift in
their seats, their muffled comments rippling through the crowd. A latecomer
—a noble woman in a hooded black cape threaded with silver—follows a
royal servant toward the king’s platform.
Once there, she takes the empty seat next to Xenon, lowers the hood,
and raises her face.
My heart catches, and I huff out a mirthless laugh.
Besides Sterling, the last person I want to show up smooths her skirts
and settles in to watch.
My fucking mother is here.
I search her familiar face, wishing I could peel back her skin and reveal
the truth and the lies. I wonder if she’s in league with the king too. If she
hates me because I’m Tirenese, and if that’s why she locked me away in the
castle for most of my life.
If the king decides I’m not the dragoncaller, I wonder whether she
believes she can cage me again.
My stomach churns.
No. I’ll never allow anyone to restrict my newfound freedom. Not
without a fight. I’m a warrior now, whether I like it or not, and this new
version of me battles for what she wants.
Her gaze scans the crowd and finds me. The smile she offers is fake.
Worried.
I wonder what she reads in my eyes.
Commander Bigley and Vice Commander Torno climb the steps to the
fifth tier, stopping to flank either side of King Xenon’s throne. Clad in their
immaculate dress uniforms with the gold buttons and matching braiding on
the shoulders, they remind me of a pair of human-sized bookends with their
erect spines and perfectly styled hair. Actually, giant dolls might be a more
apt comparison. Gods know their frozen, expressionless faces are every bit
as creepy.
I’m relieved when Bigley finally moves, raising his right hand
overhead. The excited chatter dies out.
“Fledglings, welcome to your first trial. Today is the day all the blood,
sweat, and tears you’ve invested into your training will pay off, where
you’ll showcase what you’ve learned.”
Nerves and eagerness radiate from my peers in equal measure,
permeating the air with palpable tension. My muscles twitch with a
combination of both. Shocking, really. The only eagerness I ever expected
to feel was a hunger to finish this trial with all my limbs and sanity intact.
And I do feel that, but despite everything, a part of me also wants to prove
myself too. To show myself, my mother, Elijah, or any of my doubters that I
can hack the program.
“Make no mistake, this trial is meant to test your limits. While your
weapons have been blunted for safety, and intentionally causing severe
harm to your fellow fledglings is forbidden, accidents can and do happen.
Some of you will incur injuries. Potentially life-threatening ones. In past
years, we’ve had students who’ve lost fingers, eyes, limbs, incurred third-
degree burns, frostbite, broken bones, suffered spinal paralysis, head
injuries, and, in very rare cases, death. There are no guarantees that you will
finish this trial without bloodshed.”
I rub my arms to dispel the goose bumps pebbling my skin. Gods save
us. This guy could really use a primer on inspirational pep talks.
Sensing the rising unease in their riders, many of the alicorns toss their
heads and sidestep. A shrill whinny rings out to my left, followed by a
pained cry and shouting. Heads swivel toward the source of the drama. A
dapple gray alicorn lunges at a golden alicorn. Whites show around the
golden alicorn’s eyes as the animal attempts to retreat and—oh, shit—I
think the gray one gored him. Blood trickles down its neck from a big round
wound.
Vice Commander Torno cuts in. “Fledgling Brixton. Please control your
alicorn or remove yourself from the arena. Space yourselves out, everyone,
and remain calm. Nerves are running high, and these animals are sensitive
to their riders’ emotions. We don’t need to start tallying up the injuries
before the trial even begins.”
As I chance a glance at the king, every hair on my body bristles. King
Xenon’s watching me. Whatever I do, I need to ensure my dragoncaller
abilities remain hidden.
Once the alicorns calm down, Bigley continues. “The trial will
challenge each of you and test a range of skills, including flying prowess,
map navigation, weaponry talents, magic while flying, critical thinking,
decision-making under pressure, use of teamwork, and other various skills.
For this year’s trial, each flight unit will be given a map. Using that map,
you’ll navigate to the next map, and the next one, with the final one leading
you to a box. Your mission is to recover that box and bring it to the finish
line.”
Behind me, one fledgling whispers to another. “That doesn’t sound so
terrible yet.”
‘Yet’ being the key word. If they believe the powers-that-be made things
easy on us, they’re even more naïve than I once was.
“You will encounter perils and obstacles along the way. Each member
of the flight unit will receive a single weapon of choice. All weapons will
be dulled and doused in a special transferable dye, and each team will be
assigned a unique color. While returning to the finish line with the box is
the biggest criteria in determining the success of a team’s mission, dye
marks on both flyers and their mounts will be tallied at the end of the trial
and taken into consideration for assessment purposes. Instructors and
volunteers out on the course will carry weapons as well. Their assigned
color is red, and they can and will attack.” Bigley cracks a tiny smile. “For
those of you who’ve been a pain in the ass during classes, you’d better pray
for a forgiving instructor. Otherwise, this is the perfect opportunity for them
to take revenge.”
Several fledglings laugh. Bigley waits for quiet to descend before he
resumes speaking. “In addition, some instructors will view the trial from
various locations and share feedback about what they witness, good or bad.
Does everyone understand?”
Elijah’s hand shoots up.
Bigley dips his chin in Elijah’s direction. “Fledgling Durand?”
“Can a flight unit get extra points for stealing boxes from other teams?”
“Yes. Each team can acquire the boxes however they see fit, and only
the unit who crosses the finish line with the item will get credit.”
Well, that sucks.
The evil grin spreading across Elijah’s punch-worthy face sets my teeth
on edge. Of course he’s the one to ask that question. Abel and I trade
glances, our train of thought requiring no words.
We need to steer clear of Elijah’s unit.
“If there are no further questions, we’ll take a quick break while
volunteers pass out maps and weapons and reconvene in fifteen.”
Bigley turns to converse with Torno. Voices rise as fledglings share their
thoughts on the trial. The noise level swells so high, people resort to
shouting. I’m yelling at Olive when a familiar shrill whistle assaults my
ears.
I wince. The alicorns look pained. All the ruckus shuts off like magic.
Kinneck drops his fingers from his mouth. “All right, people, listen up.
When you hear your name called, please go to that volunteer to collect your
first map and your weapons.”
A man in the back starts by calling for the members of Theo’s flight unit
and another one with people I don’t know very well. Our navigation
instructor calls Elijah and Helene’s team.
Resnick is up next. “Fledgling Axton.”
We pick our weapons—I choose a bow and arrow, Olive picks throwing
stars, Abel goes with a dagger, and Nick a sword—and learn that our dye
color is turquoise. Lucky for us. Another team got vomit green.
We’re given five minutes to study the hand-drawn, freshly inked map.
Instead of well-known geographic locations or obvious markers, like the
mess hall, most of the illustrated points of interest are foreign.
Abel scratches his neck. “They sure don’t want to make this easy on us,
do they?”
Olive rotates the map sideways. “Easy? Of course not. What’s the fun in
that?”
“Your definition of fun must be different than mine,” Nick mutters.
“It could be worse.”
An incredulous Nick gapes at Olive. ‘How?”
She lifts a shoulder. “We could be completing this trial while flying
blindfolded during a huge lightning storm while under attack from actual
enemies.”
Abel chuckles. “Fair enough. Although, with Elijah’s crew out there, I
think we’ve got the enemy part covered.”
While they confer, I continue to study the map. “I bet they created a lot
of those geographical markers specifically for the trial, which means we
don’t have a chance of locating them until we’re up in the air. To start, we
need to focus on the couple we do recognize and use those to orient
ourselves.”
Abel nudges me. “Smart. I knew I liked you for a reason.”
Kinneck whistles again and orders us to reassemble by unit near the
starting line. My stress climbs. So far, no one has paid me any undue
attention. I hope it stays that way, but I’m scared it won’t. Not after what I
heard the king say last night.
King Xenon rises from his throne. “Fledglings, I wish you all the best of
luck. The trial begins…now!”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Forty-Five

Powerful wings flap in unison, creating wind tunnels as alicorns and flyers
compete to hit the skies first. Caught off guard, Zephyr’s hooves are still on
the ground when the first alicorn to take flight slams into an invisible wall
horn-first and bounces back.
Abel gasps. “By the heavens! What’s happening?”
Cruder variations of Abel’s exclamation echo all around as more and
more flyers get repelled by the barrier. The translucent wall glimmers in
spots, bringing unwelcome memories of Elijah’s attack on the beach.
Worry crawls along my skin. “I don’t get it. They trapped us in an air
shield, but what’s the point? It seems silly to force us to break out right off
the bat like this.”
A moment later, I get my answer. Three consecutive booms rattle the
ground. Thick, purple fog explodes out of nowhere, obscuring our vision
and consuming the dome with a sweet, musty odor.
Nick hacks. “What is this shit?”
“No clue.” Coughing, I wave my hand in front of my face in a futile
attempt to clear the air.
The shriek of an enraged alicorn gives us our first hint, and a bellow
from the opposite direction our second. Soon, the air shrills with the chorus
of pissed off animals. I can’t tell what’s happening, though, because the
fucking fog makes visibility impossible.
 “Shit! Easy, girl. No, no, stop!” Beside me, I can hear Olive’s mount
acting up as she tries to calm her. Abel and Nick seem to be struggling too.
Something bumps Zephyr from behind, and my usually chill boy starts to
lose his cool.
He rears up, but I can barely focus thanks to a sudden avalanche of
alicorn fury crashing into me from every direction. The intensity of their
rage beats against my skull like a giant boulder intent on smashing my brain
to a pulp. Never before has this much emotion assaulted me. Especially not
from the alicorns.
“The fog,” I wheeze. “It’s somehow engineered to piss off the alicorns.”
It’s fucking pandemonium. Yelling. Furious shrieking. Agonized cries.
The coppery tang of blood perfumes the air. A constant barrage of images
featuring alicorns attacking each other with horns and hooves pummels my
mind.
If we don’t shut this down fast, our trial might be over before it even
begins.
Zephyr squeals and lunges. I yank on the reins, but the alicorn resists.
His bloodlust blazes through my veins, stirring my own rage.
No. I can’t lose control. Zephyr needs me to keep calm.
Reaching out, I soothe Zephyr via our connection. The fight gradually
drains from his body. I start to do the same for Olive’s alicorn but stop
again. If I alleviate the rage from only my flight unit’s mounts, that will
look awfully suspicious. I’ll save that option as a last resort.
What I can do is try to bring down that air shield. Once the fog
dissipates, the effects will wear off.
I hope.
While everyone else focuses on reining in their mount, I do just that.
Like that day on the beach, I blast the barrier with my fire. The flames eat
through the shield, destroying it. As soon as the barrier vanishes, the fog
rises up toward the clouds. Riders get their animals under control, but not
before damage is done. As I take in the other fledglings and their mounts, I
shudder. Two, four, six, seven. I count at least seven wounded alicorns. Two
sport ugly, gaping wounds that draw a pair of healers straight to them for
emergency treatment. The others will likely wait until after the trial.
Abel’s the first person in our group to check in. “Are all of you guys
okay? Hey Nick, Solara’s neck is bleeding.”
 Though none of us say a word while Nick curses and swipes his tunic
over the wound, our collective concern is palpable. We all understand that a
bad injury now could ruin the trial before we even start.
Despite that reality, I find myself more worried about Solara. Nick
adores his alicorn. A serious injury would devastate him.
His loud exhale breaks the tension. “It’s just a scratch. Long but
shallow. She’ll be fine.”
He murmurs in Solara’s ear while the rest of us express our relief. Both
Nova and Thorin appear unscathed. Zephyr too. All in all, we got lucky.
Abel directs his mount over to Nick. “Ready? I say we get the hells out
of here before they decide to spring some other horror on us.”
I nod. “Agreed. Let’s go.”
Snapping the reins, I urge Zephyr into the air. He gets a running start,
the flapping of his wings lifting loose tendrils of my hair. My muscles
remain tense until we all reach the sky.
For the first several minutes, we all keep glancing over our shoulders.
Who can blame us? The possibility of Elijah and his fuckwit crew sneaking
up on us and tossing weapons at our heads sounds like a nightmare and a
half. It’s not a matter of if he’ll take the opportunity to attack without
repercussion, but when. Unless the gods bless us with a minor miracle and
we manage to avoid him for the entire trial, we’re bound to clash at some
point.
Nick yells at Abel. “Hey, navigator! Are we still headed in the right
direction?”
Nick volunteered to lead this mission, and Abel agreed to keep the maps
and guide us. Our leader arranged us in a diamond-shaped flight
configuration, with Abel positioned out front, him in the rear, and Olive and
me forming the points on the sides.
“I think so! Unless I’m holding the map upside down.”
Nick’s voice climbs in pitch. “You’re joking, right? Olive, Lark, tell me
he’s joking.”
A burst of laughter from atop the head alicorn answers his question. “I
had you going!”
Nick curses. “You’re such a dick sometimes. Can’t you take anything
seriously?”
“Yes! I take finding the first location very seriously, which is why we
should start descending. Is it just me, or does that look like a red crescent
moon to you?”
He points toward a cluster of trees up ahead. Only one features red
foliage. The rest form a green outer ring, while the outlier towers in the
center, its deeply hued leaves a shock of color.
Nick hollers. “Good catch! Let’s go in for a closer view.”
After tossing our leader a cheeky salute, Abel guides his alicorn toward
the red tree. Upon confirming that the top does indeed resemble a crescent,
Nick directs us to land. While a tight fit, we find just enough space between
the ring of green trees and our target to land our alicorns without risking a
collision.
Before Zephyr’s hooves even touch ground, Abel shouts. “Found it!”
A piece of paper nailed to the tree trunk waits in plain sight. No hunting
required. No tricks. “You know, I really thought that was going to be
harder.”
Abel plucks the map from the bark. “Maybe they decided to cut us some
slack and start us off easy.”
Nick’s frown matches mine. “Maybe. They won’t all be like this,
though, so let’s mount back up and start flying.”
Everyone remounts. Before a single one of us can go airborne, the
clearing fills with crackling and crunching noises.
Olive palms a throwing star. “What the hells is that?”
Nick and I whirl, searching the surrounding forest for the source. A
predator. Another team. Something to account for the odd sounds.
Abel tips his head back. “Uh, guys? Look up.”
Olive, Nick, and I copy Abel. My stomach drops out.
“Oh, shit,” Olive says.
Oh, shit is right. The source of that ungodsly ruckus? The trees. Their
branches grow and multiply at an alarming pace, stretching and twisting to
form an impenetrable canopy. Thorns longer than my middle finger burst
from the bark, jutting down from the canopy with spikes that look sharp
enough to cut through bone and stab halfway into our brains.
A high-pitched yelp just about makes me jump out of my skin. The
culprit is Nick. He’s cowering away from a tiny twig that’s tickling his face.
Olive giggles.
Nick glares. “What? I don’t like the idea of murderous greenery. Is that
a crime?”
 Abel tries and fails to hide his snicker. “It’s okay, Nick. No judging
here. We’ve all had that moment where we suspected a leaf was plotting our
demise.”
Nick flips him off, prompting another giggle from Olive. Though I
appreciate my team’s ability to find humor while stressed, I kind of want to
knock their heads together and order them to focus.
My heart rate climbs. “Sorry, everyone, but I’ve got to side with Nick.
Those trees are plotting against us. If we don’t stop them soon, we could
end up skewered and at their mercy, and there’s no telling what a pissed off
tree will do.”
Olive’s and Abel’s howls come to an abrupt stop when the crunching,
rustling, and slithering gets louder. There are branches everywhere,
blocking every potential escape route, high or low. But do they stay
satisfied with that? Hells, no. They start dropping from the canopy and
crawling down the trunks. I swat one off my head when it attempts to snag
my hair. Olive wrestles with another one that’s grabbing at her tunic.
Out of the blue, a memory springs to life, one from the night Royce’s
son and I were attacked on our way out of the village. Our attacker
commanded a tree in a similar fashion. Was he truly a winged warrior from
Tirene? And if so, is it possible he was searching for me?
Pain scrapes my cheek, yanking me back into the present. I leap back,
dodging another strike by one of those enormous thorns. When I touch my
face, my fingers come away wet with blood. These dickhead trees are really
starting to piss me off.
Nick swings his sword at a branch that launches at his face. As his blade
slices the bough in two, the cursed thing shrieks. “What the fucking fuck?”
I second that, because screaming trees? Unacceptable.
Abel ducks a shoe-length thorn and shoots Nick a horrified look.
“Whatever you just did, please never do it again. That is not okay.”
“I’d rather it screams than us!”
Abel huffs and holds his dagger in front of him at the ready. “Valid
point. I swear there are twice as many as there were a minute ago.”
Five branches dive-bomb Olive’s head. She blasts them with a gust of
wind, but they fight back and keep coming. “We need to quit reacting and
come up with a plan of attack.”
Abel drops and rolls to avoid a particularly aggressive branch that
seems determined to crack his skull. “Any ideas? I’m open to suggestions?”
 “Have you tried praying to your earth god to knock this shit out?” Nick
hollers.
“Multiple times. Terro doesn’t seem to care.”
We cycle through our elemental magic. Taking another stab, Olive
targets the canopy with a burst of air. Leaves rustle and float to the ground,
but nothing else happens. Water magic fails, too, as does earth magic,
surprisingly enough. Probably because whoever’s responsible for this leafy
horror show possesses stronger earth magic than Abel.
Nick slices another attacker in two, and we all flinch at the shriek.
“Lark, I think you’re up.”
My turn, right. It’s like my brain shut down in all the commotion. “It
can’t hurt to try. Unless we all catch on fire and burn to death. Then it could
hurt a ton.”
“There’s that optimism I love so much.”
My laugh at Abel’s deadpan humor cuts off when something claws my
back. Yelping, I spin and summon fire in the blink of an eye. The branch
goes up in flames and retreats.
“Hey, I think it worked!”
“Great. Can you make it work a little faster? Death by asshole tree isn’t
the way I wanna go.”
The branches continue to multiply and descend like a herd of the ugliest
snakes known to man. To avoid their sharp, grasping fingers, we’re forced
to crouch low to the ground. Despite my appreciation for the magic
wielder’s vision—it’s kind of a genius trap—I can’t say I’m a big fan.
“Everyone lay flat on the ground. The bigger the buffer zone the better.”
My team follows my suggestion without question. When they’re as low
as they can get, I stoke the embers inside me and let the fire rip.
The first strike fizzles out too quickly. So does the second. By the third
attempt, panic has set in. This time, the sparks ignite into a blaze. The
shrieking is so terrible that I clap my palms over my ears. After a brief
reprieve, I push more magic into the branches. A pungent odor of
woodsmoke mixed with char envelops us. We dodge the crispy, blackened
bits that rain down from overhead. I flick one Olive couldn’t avoid off her
shoulder. The trees finally admit defeat and retreat, freeing up enough space
for us to leave.
Abel dusts his pants off and grins. “Well, that was a real hoot. Remind
me to never go hiking or fishing or honestly, do anything outdoorsy ever
again. Crocheting and finger painting. Those are my new hobbies.”
When I climb into the saddle, fatigue sinks into my bones. I want
nothing more than to hole up with Zephyr somewhere and take a long nap.
“Are we done yet?”
“You wish.”
As the rest of my team mounts, Olive starts giggling again.
Nick groans. “Do I want to know what you’re laughing about now?”
Olive gasps her reply. “D-death by asshole t-tree. Th-there’s no t-telling
what a p-pissed off tree will do.”
She loses her shit, collapsing onto Nova’s neck as she sobs with
laughter. Abel joins in next. My lips start twitching, and next thing I know,
I’m giggling too.
Nick’s the last man standing, but even he can’t keep a straight face.
“You guys have all lost it.”
We take to the air, thankful for the transient palate cleanser. I only hope
we can find the humor in the rest of the day’s challenges.
The next map leads us to a snowman-shaped boulder located at the
bottom of a tree-lined ravine. Soaring in, we manage to skirt the magical
cyclone by using our flying skills alone. Abel makes short work of grabbing
the next map, and we take to the air in no time.
We find and claim our box with surprisingly little trouble beyond
dodging a stray weapon here and there and a fire trap that Olive, Nick, and
Abel combined their elements to overcome.
The trouble strikes during the home stretch, as we close in on what we
believe is the finish line.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Forty-Six

The attack comes out of nowhere. One moment, we’re laughing at one of
Abel’s stupid jokes as we skim over the treetops just outside campus with
the arena in sight. The next, three alicorns burst from the trees carrying
Elijah, Mark, and Milton on their backs. Elijah sits atop his dark mount and
nocks an arrow.
Nick screams. “Evade!” The command alerts our flight unit of an
impending enemy attack and instructs us to take any measure necessary to
avoid a direct hit.
I steer Zephyr into a steep dive between two tall trees, my adrenaline
pumping. Elijah is hard on our tail. Straightening out, we zigzag through the
forest. There’s not much room to work with, but flying in a straight line is
just asking to get hit. Wind slaps my cheeks, and despite the fact that I
loathe the idea of Elijah winning by marking us with dye with every fiber in
my body, exhilaration tingles my skin. Hard to believe after my rocky start,
but I love flying. The freedom, the thrill. All of it.
A sudden stinging pain in my back makes me gasp. At first, I think
Elijah hit me, but no. This stinging pain runs beside both shoulder blades.
The temporary distraction gives Elijah his chance. Only instinct and a
faint whooshing help me avoid the arrow. I yank Zephyr into a sharp turn,
banking left and diving at the same time. I glance over my shoulder and
watch the arrow embed itself in a tree trunk.
 Ice crawls across my skin. The arrow embedded when it should have
struck and fallen to the ground. That’s no blunted, trial-issued weapon.
The fucker is cheating and using real arrows.
Closer to the ground, the foliage becomes denser. Zephyr’s wings clip
the branches, jerking me in the saddle.
A fiery burn explodes along my left bicep. One glance confirms that an
arrow sticks out of my sleeve. It’s lodged in my arm, but I don’t think it’s
very deep. More of a graze considering the arrowhead feels like it’s hanging
on by the skin of its teeth. Bracing myself, I take a risk and yank it out. My
arm hurts like hells but I don’t feel my muscle tear, thank goodness.
Okay. Now I’m pissed.
From somewhere up above, I hear a pained cry. My stomach plummets.
Olive.
Nick yells. “Return to formation!”
I keep zigzagging to avoid another hit, giving Zephyr his head now that
he knows what I want and ducking my own to avoid branches. I know
Nick’s command means regroup as soon as possible, but I won’t lead Elijah
up so he can attack another member of my team. My mind races as I
consider and discard options. I could hit Elijah with fire, but I don’t have
eyes in the back of my head, and that could get out of hand. As much as I
hate him, I’m not quite ready to char him to a crisp.
My arrows are useless. Unlike him, I played by the rules.
That leaves only one possibility. Something I’ve never tried and don’t
even know for sure I can do.
Zephyr and I make a hard right just as something whizzes past my left
ear. I catch a glimpse of a small silver object disappearing into the forest.
My pulse quickens. That scum-sucking cheat has throwing stars too.
Without giving myself a chance to second-guess what I’m about to
attempt, I open my mind and reach out with my consciousness. Zephyr’s
familiar presence hits me first. The impact forces the air from my chest.
Maybe the connection is much stronger because this is the first time I’ve
ever fully embraced my dragoncaller ability. Zephyr’s emotions flood me.
Thrill over flying. Anxiety over my safety. Desire to return to the open sky.
I let him know how proud I am to be riding him, then let him take
complete control as I reach for the second closest presence.
A branch scrapes my injured arm, making me gasp, but I grab hold of
the mental connection. Elijah’s alicorn’s mind harbors more darkness than
Zephyr’s, and like his owner, he’s full of aggression. Fear lurks behind that,
along with pain, prompting my concern that Elijah mistreats him.
As much as I loathe the thought, I can’t worry about that now. Instead, I
focus on grabbing hold of the alicorn’s mind and forcing my command
inside.
He fights me. Hard. Much Harder than I anticipated. Our mental battle
spears my skull with sharp pain, but I keep pushing. The sensation reminds
me of banging on a locked wooden gate. Though the structure yields a little
with every attempt, the barrier holds strong.
I clench my teeth and continue the invisible attack. Sooner or later, one
of us must admit defeat, and I’ll be cursed if I bend the knee to a
godsdamned alicorn.
Knives join the spearing party in my head. My stomach threatens to
revolt. Only pure stubbornness keeps me pressing until, with a silent pop,
the alicorn’s resistance vanishes. Without any obstruction, swooping in and
seizing control is as easy as cake.
A moment later, Elijah curses. “No! What are you doing, you stupid ass
beast? Stop!”
The alicorn’s pain reaches me, and a pit opens in my stomach. I hate
that Elijah is hurting him because of me.
I tug on the reins to slow Zephyr and check behind me. Elijah yanks on
his mount’s mane, kicking and cursing, but the alicorn refuses to budge
from where he stands on the ground. Elijah shouts for the rest of his flight
unit to come help him.
My hands shake as Zephyr and I fly up to rejoin my team. I have no
idea how long the effects will last, so we need to get out of here quickly.
I’m shocked it worked. Relieved, but also sickened. What I did leaves an
oily, icky residue inside me.
When Zephyr and I free ourselves from the trees, the rest of my team is
waiting.
“What took you so long?” Nick grumbles.
“Elijah came after me with live weapons. I had to disable him first.”
Abel shoots a concerned glance at Olive. “Yeah, Mark too. He got Olive
on the leg with a dagger.”
“It’s only a graze. I’m fine.”
I check for myself, releasing a relieved breath when I don’t spot any
perfuse bleeding. “Let’s get out here before they regroup.”
 We resume formation and fly the short distance to the arena. Other
teams linger outside the entrance. I note Helene has joined them and
wonder how that happened, but I’m distracted by what’s happening in front
of me. “Why are we waiting here?”
Theo answers. “Torno told us to. Not sure what’s happening in there,
but I’m thinking we’re not done with the trial yet.”
My nerves shriek louder the longer we wait. Before long, Elijah, Mark,
and Milton arrive. Though less of a threat now with a crowd surrounding
us, we keep a safe distance between us and their rule-breaking, battle-sharp
weapons.
Finally, the arena doors open, revealing eight tall, thick stone columns
inside.
Bigley appears in front of us, his typically stoic expression absent. His
pinched brow and forehead creases signal worry. “Inside, you’ll face a
series of challenges to get to the finish line. You must face each of the eight
pillars before your trial concludes. Flying is required. Your alicorns may not
land.”
Once he steps aside, alicorns and their riders surge forward on a flurry
of wings.
My team takes up the rear, where we watch as the quickest two units to
enter approach the nearest pillar. Countless fist-sized rocks burst from
sudden openings in the obelisk, one striking a blond fledgling’s knee. A
crack sounds. Her shriek cuts through the air. The male fledgling fighting
against her banks his tan alicorn right, left, up, then down to avoid the
hurtling stones, some of which graze his long brown hair…though none
touch his alicorn or the fair-haired girl’s gray one.
The earth magic’s hunting humans, not their beasts. Once the assault
ends, the male fledgling raises his sword. With the blunted tip pointed at the
woman—who flies well below him—he dive-bombs toward her.
Her earth magic shakes the ground beneath the first column. With a loud
groan, it tilts toward the male fledgling, threatening to crush him beneath its
weight as it falls. At the last moment, he dodges the column, which springs
back to its original position as if the previous seconds never happened.
I break out in a cold sweat.
This is going to be a nightmare.
Metallic clangs fill the arena as more flight units engage with the
challenges. The throwing stars strike the second column, their metal
creating sparks on the stone. Fire erupts from those areas and rolls forward,
melting the female fledgling’s blade, the molten mess falling on her thigh.
Skin sizzles. An agonized wail rings out. Smoke infused with the stench
of charred human flesh curls from her wound while I breathe through my
nose and do my best not to puke. Other fledglings standing too close to the
fire shout and slap the flames from their tunics and pants.
Nick’s voice is grim. “Keep your senses sharp and stick close together.
Follow me.”
We follow him toward a pillar. Mist begins to pour into the arena, the
moisture thickening in spots and hindering visibility. A scream rings out
from the densest area. Metal clangs. Red soon tinges the edges of the vapor.
Blood.
A throwing star cuts through the mist and lands close to the stands.
Several in the crowd yelp and skitter back.
My throat tightens, and I struggle to swallow.
The patter of rain draws my attention. My mind immediately assumes
Thorne, but the source comes from a pillar to my left. Beneath the shower,
Mark Levine has cornered an alicorn and rider from another team. “Give
me your box.”
“No.” The rider attempts to fly around him. The blur of something
whizzing through the air leads to a scream. The dagger rams into the
fledgling’s right eye clear through to the back of his skull. His mouth falls
open, his good eye blinking as confusion colors his gaze.
“This isn’t real.” The wounded noise Olive makes is echoed by my soul.
“Oh gods, it’s not supposed to be real.”
It is now. I wait for someone—anyone—to call the trial and remove
Mark for violating the rules, but no one does. I glance up and find the king
watching. He sees what’s happening, and yet allows these horrors to
continue.
Bastard. Him and every last one of the Flighthaven staff who do nothing
to stop this.
The fledgling slumps over his alicorn, slides from the saddle, and
plummets to the ground, his bones cracking…his blood gushing.
My heart hurts. I can’t breathe.
Olive reaches over to me and squeezes my fingers. Flapping noises call
my attention overhead.
 Torno flies an orange dragon toward the stands. The beast perches on
the stone awning above Xenon’s thronelike seat, saliva dripping from its
open jaw and serpent’s tongue.
Rage, fear, and sorrow bombard me—eliciting a flinch and a shiver—
each emotion bursting from the dragon’s thoughts and tearing at my mind.
My heart quickens, and my throat clenches, the beast’s proximity allowing
the assault.
As nausea overwhelms me, the arena I’m in disappears.

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 Chapter Forty-Seven

My mind is taken to the Cyne mountain range, with snowcapped peaks,

crisp air, howling winds. Images snap on and off in my head, no different
than my dreams, as I experience what the dragon does…
Flying over the range.
Landing near the cavern the beast calls home.
Fire spilling from its mouth to heat its eggs, making certain the warmth
isn’t too hot or cool, ensuring some of the offspring hatch as females, and
others as males.
Air spills from my lungs. Earth magic in all forms ambushes me—or
rather the dragon—in rapid-fire images.
Water magic drenches then freezes the beast’s wings to prevent flight.
Fire magic pushes against flames pouring from the creature’s mouth, its
human adversaries trying but failing to cow the dragon this way.
Mountains rumble from earth magic. Loosened boulders tumble down
and seal the entrance to the creature’s cavern…trapping the well-tended and
loved offspring inside where they’ll die instead of hatch.
Air magic pushes the dragon off the cliff it clings to and into a metal net
held by humans, imprisoning the magnificent creature born to be free.
Sorrow grips me at the awful scenes, at the memories of this traumatic
time the dragon endured. My queasiness returns, and I struggle against the
dimming corners of my vision. I can’t vomit, weep, or lose consciousness.
Fighting is my only chance to succeed and someday free the dragons.
 The ground beneath the column trembles. Unlike other times, the pillar
doesn’t tilt right or left in an effort to smack those on the course.
The earth’s groans startle me back into my own mind. The pillar in front
of us doesn’t budge.
“What the fuck’s happening?” Fear and bewilderment lace Nick’s
question. “What’s the column going to do…Oh, shit.”
Beneath us, the earth separates and eyril tendrils shoot up, their tips
curling like fingers as they try to latch onto our alicorns’ hooves to pull the
creatures below the…
No. Those aren’t tendrils. They’re roots from trees and other vegetation
surrounding the arena, which isn’t much better.
“Climb!” While Nick, Abel, and Olive are on my tail, the other unit is
too.
“Shit!” Olive dodges an opponent’s throwing star, then uses her air
magic to stir up dust, creating a tornado that surrounds the prick who hurled
the weapon, blinding and choking him with dirt.
“Watch out!” The roots keep following me and the others no matter how
high we fly, which is two hundred yards or more above the field, the ground
beneath us covered in these vegetation-type predators. One root wraps
around Solara’s hind leg. She kicks to break free but can’t.
A quick burst of fire magic burns through the restraint, liberating the
alicorn. “Higher. Go higher.”
“So the roots follow? Fuck that.” Abel unleashes his own earth magic,
creating deep gorges in the ground with quicksand at the base. Several roots
struggle against the intense sucking motions, but then drop into the
openings and disappear. Others persist in their pursuit of my unit and our
opponents.
Unlike us, some of those fledglings still prod their alicorns to climb
with the roots in pursuit. Others veer to the right or left, attempting to trick
the vegetation which dogs them. Fledglings shriek as the roots wind around
their alicorns’ legs and yank the animals down.
“Screw these fuckers following us.” With his upper lip curled, Nick uses
his ice magic to freeze those roots nearest us. As they glisten in the sun like
gems, Olive’s air magic blows them to bits. I set the remaining roots on fire.
Applause breaks out in the stands.
Our opponents use our tactics to free themselves…or they try. The
vegetation has somehow learned what to expect and dodges their fire, air,
water, and earth magic, writhing away from those elements—or releasing
more roots—to return and attack again.
I gape. Olive heaves. Nick and Abel curse.
One by one, the roots wrench each screaming fledgling and snorting
alicorn toward the ground for them to crash into the surface or be crushed
far beneath.
I cringe. “We should do something to help them.”
“So we lose?” Nick sniffs. “No, thanks.”
“Lark’s right.” Olive flies to my side. “I’ll help you…what the hells?”
The roots retreat on their own.
My team flies toward the next column. The air changes well before I
reach it…as it did with the ice magic in the last column. Here, intense heat
stings my face. “Fire magic!”
Afraid Zephyr’s feathers will burst into flame, I prod him into a series
of somersaults to roll away from the column. The crowd gasps at my
maneuver, while the pillar’s heat follows us. Shit. “Nick, ice!”
He freezes the column, but the unbearable heat only grows hotter, nearly
blistering my skin.
Stunned, I prod Zephyr into a climb toward the higher, cooler air. The
heat races after us and transforms into orange flames.
When Zephyr and I near the pillar, he snorts and rears. Startled, I clamp
my thighs against his body to avoid falling from my saddle, my leg
throbbing from where the rock hit. There’s also a gash in my shoulder,
blood streaming from the wound. How and when that happened, I don’t
know.
“Easy, Zephyr.” I stroke his mane.
He rears again.
“Guys, careful!” I twist in my saddle to holler at the others who’ve
almost reached me. Behind them, the opposing team gains ground toward
us. “Zephyr’s spooked. He⁠—”
A thunderous moan assaults my ears. I wince then gulp. From the
ground in front of the column, a stone wall rises mere inches from Zephyr’s
wing, reaching high into the sky.
I wheel Zephyr around to fly in the other direction.
Another stone wall rises there, as tall as the first, boxing Zephyr and me
in.
My pulse jumps. Sweat stings my eyes. “Olive! Nick! Abel!”
 They fly to either side of the two stone walls. “Come here.” Paler than
she’s ever been, Olive extends her trembling hand, urging me to join her.
“Now!”
I prod Zephyr to fly as fast as he can, his wings almost grazing the
opposite walls. When he and I get close enough for me to almost touch
Olive’s fingers, a third wall rises, cutting off my exit. Olive’s hand jerks
back, her face freezing in terror at what’s happening.
Features pinched, Nick and Abel hover on the fourth, still open side.
A deafening smack precedes intense vibrations as a stone slab drops
across the top of the three walls, cutting off the light. Falling debris, no
larger than pebbles, rains down on Zephyr and me. I cough and wheeze at
the dust. Zephyr sneezes.
On the only open side, Olive, Nick, and Abel gawk at me from outside
the stone walls—alarm in their eyes.
Their fear doesn’t come close to matching mine. I’m quaking to the
point my teeth clack, and my heart pounds so hard I can’t pull in a full
breath. Desperate for freedom, I nudge Zephyr toward the opening.
It narrows until I’m no longer sure it will allow his wingspan to pass
through without injuring him.
I gasp and rein Zephyr in.
Loud rumbling causes the surrounding walls to tremble…while the top
slab descends at a rapid pace, determined to crush us in here no matter how
far we descend…or how fast I lead Zephyr to the sole opening.
I suck in a startled breath. “Nick, ice now.” He has to freeze this damn
thing before it kills me.
His power transforms the three walls into solid ice, but the top slab still
descends. Shit.
“Olive, air!”
Try as she might, her air magic doesn’t do shit to blow the walls away.
The slab keeps descending.
Terrified, I struggle to breathe and think.
“Try to fly out here.” Abel gestures me toward the opening where he
and the others hover, his face stricken. “It’s your only chance.”
“No. Fuck, no!” Olive’s terrified voice cuts through me like a blade as
the side she and the others are on trembles, a fourth wall now rising from
the ground.
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 Chapter Forty-Eight

A spear whizzes past Abel, almost grazing his shoulder. Arrows fly as the
other unit attacks.
With a screech, the top slab slides lower, almost touching my head. At
the same time, the ground rises beneath our feet. If they continue on their
current trajectory, they’ll eventually meet in the middle, crushing Zephyr
and me in the process.
A terrified cry rises in my throat. I push it back and gape as the fourth
wall keeps rising, my gray-faced friends blocked from the waist down on
the other side. “Everyone’s magic now! Bombard this thing!”
Air, ice, and earth magic from Olive, Nick, and Abel blast my stone
prison as I shoot fireballs at the slab above me. Sparks fly, crackling the air,
and dust trickles down while the other team continues their assault, this
time with throwing stars. One slices Olive’s right bicep. She hisses.
“Leave me.” They have to save themselves. “Go!”
“Screw that.” Olive grips her injured bicep, staunching the blood, and
gives me a pissy look. “I’m not leaving you.”
Abel and Nick say the same. Together, we blast the walls with our
magic. I unleash as I haven’t before. Squeezing Zephyr with my thighs, an
inferno streaks through my veins and blazes into the wall. Within moments,
the structure buckles beneath my power and, little by little, the slab above
me yields and eventually tumbles over the top of the second wall.
 A loud smack cuts off a fledgling’s scream. More shouts. The ground
vibrates.
As one, the walls surrounding me lower, showing a dead alicorn
crushed beneath the stone slab. His unmoving rider is trapped beneath him,
blood pouring from her caved-in skull. Her teammates circle overhead,
sobbing and arguing whether to try to retrieve the body or leave her and get
the hells out of there.
The macabre sight induces me to get my ass in gear. Once I free myself,
I don’t waste a single moment aiming Zephyr to the next column and
battling its power, which consists of more earth magic.
The next pillar combines the four elements, switching from fire, to
water, to air, to earth so fast that while we’re battling one power it’s already
morphed into another.
“Fuck!” Nick bellows. “I’m tired of this shit.”
So am I, but we still have the eighth and final column to conquer. I
dread what surprises it might hold, but I don’t lose hope as I fly Zephyr
toward the pillar. Success is within our grasp⁠—
A screech rends the air, and my gaze flits up to find the orange dragon
making a low pass overhead.
Except Torno’s not on her back.
What is she doing?
Circling above, the magnificent creature unfurls her massive wings and
swoops over the crowd.
A reverent hush settles over the spectators.
Steam blasts from the dragon’s nostrils, eyes menacing and barbed tail
swishing as she looks right at me. Goose bumps pimple my flesh, and dread
sinks like a lead weight to the pit of my stomach.
With a deafening roar, the dragon dives toward my unit. Terror clogs my
throat and steals my breath. Zephyr paws the ground, huffing out a nervous
snort. On either side of me, Olive, Nick, and Abel sit in stunned silence,
trying to calm their restless alicorns.
What else can we do? Fleeing from an incensed dragon would mean
instant death.
Soaring toward us, the dragon opens her mouth and flicks her forked
tongue. Surely, the rogue dragon can’t be part of the trial.
Can she?
 Shouts from the crowd filter into my consciousness, breaking through
the ringing in my ears.
The dragon barrels closer to my unit, opening her massive jaws and
revealing two rows of wicked teeth as tall as I am.
Nick leans down and pats Solara’s neck, but the dark bay alicorn refuses
to settle. “What the fuck? This can’t be part of the trial.”
Test or not, the vengeance gleaming in the dragon’s eyes tells me her
intentions are less than friendly.
As she soars closer, I freeze.
Flames erupt from her mouth as she lands twenty feet in front of us, and
a blast of heat skims my left cheek.
“She’s going to kill us.”
Olive’s whispered warning is all I need to get my ass in gear.
“Split up!” I wheel Zephyr around as the rest of my unit takes off
around me.
So much for not fleeing.
After a few paces, Zephyr unfurls his silvery wings, and in mere
seconds, we’re in the air. Twisting around in the saddle, I check for our
pursuer.
The dragon’s not far behind.
Dammit. Today wasn’t supposed to end this way.
I turn back around and urge my alicorn to fly faster. Not that he needs
my encouragement. Zephyr’s powerful muscles coil and uncoil beneath me
as his feathery wings beat the air into submission.
But he’s no match for a dragon.
Flames lick the air beside us, heating my skin. That’s twice the dragon’s
missed me. There’s no way her aim is that inaccurate.
She’s toying with us, like a lioness hunting her prey.
Panic blooms in my chest. “Help me!”
“Use your magic.” A blur of chestnut and flapping wings whir by me as
Abel passes me on Thorin. “I’ll distract her.”
Use my magic? What will fire do to an animal who can breathe fire?
Maybe nothing. I really don’t know, but I have to try.
“Okay.” Wind whipping my braid, I nudge Zephyr with my heels.
He stretches his neck out, putting on a burst of speed. I don’t dare twist
around again to see if the dragon’s still behind us. At least none of my body
parts have been roasted off.
 I make a wide circle on Zephyr and breathe a sigh of relief when the
orange dragon is nowhere near us. But she’s after my friends.
Tailing Abel and Thorin now, the dragon opens her powerful jaws. Fear
zips through me at the sight of the white-hot flame in her throat.
“Watch out!” It’s the only warning I have time to utter as fire erupts
from her mouth and shoots toward Abel.
Swerving Thorin to the left, Abel leans forward and flattens his body
against the animal. The blaze licks across the tip of the alicorn’s right wing,
igniting the feathers. The flame flickers to life and spreads.
No. This can’t be⁠—
“I’m coming!” From somewhere above us, Nick dives down with
Solara, hurdling toward Abel and Thorin.
He’ll put out the fire. The alicorn will live. Abel will be fine.
If I hadn’t yelled…if Nick couldn’t wield water…
I can’t even finish those thoughts. I did yell. Nick can wield water. And
I will not lose my friends today.
Warmth hums just below my skin as I call on my magic and focus my
ire on the orange dragon. Hovering on Zephyr, I lift my hands. The heat
intensifies as my will becomes one with the fire inside me. Flame erupts
from my fingertips and engulfs the beast.
The creature’s roar drips with pain and rage. Thrashing her blazing
wings, the dragon plummets toward the ground.
Some fifteen feet behind the dragon, Nova lands. Much like I did, Olive
lifts her hands. Cupping them to her mouth, she blows out a gust of wind
that fans the already blazing inferno.
Clever thinking.
Hands raised and aimed at the dragon, Olive and I exchange a glance as
I ride Zephyr to the ground. She flashes a distracted smile before refocusing
on the dragon.
In the back of my mind, something I learned weeks ago niggles its way
in. Dragon scales protect against undiluted eyril. They’re also fire resistant.
Does that mean the dragon is slowly being cooked alive from the heat
without actually burning?
The thought makes me nauseous. I don’t want to kill this creature, and I
certainly don’t want to torture her. But what other choice do I have when
confronted with a dangerous, out-of-control dragon? If I don’t put her out of
her misery, she’ll go after my unit until every one of us is dead.
 An onslaught of images and emotions slams into me, and my body
trembles. If I weren’t on Zephyr, I know my knees would buckle.
Anguish, rage, terror, desperation. I lock eyes with the creature, and
somehow, I know this is all from her. Just like with the black dragon before
he escaped. Before I freed him.
In her right mind or not, I can’t let this dragon die.
Something inside me snaps. “Rein in your magic!” I lower my hands,
pulling the flames away from the dragon. “We’re killing her.”
“What?” Olive shoots me an incredulous look. “Lark, she’ll kill us.”
“She’s in agony. I think…I think I can connect with her.” I hope I can
connect with her. “Just trust me.”
“I do trust you.” Shaking her head, Olive lowers her hands. “I just hope
I don’t regret this.”
The wind stops, and the flames die out. Remarkably, the orange dragon
appears relatively unscathed. She tucks in her mighty wings and settles her
tormented golden gaze on Olive.
The dragon opens her mouth, releasing a blast of fire aimed right at my
friend. The blaze engulfs alicorn and rider before they can so much as
flinch.
Horror fists my heart and squeezes.
Nothing remains of Olive except a pile of ash.
She’s gone.

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 Chapter Forty-Nine

The friend I always dreamed of but never thought I’d have. The person who
welcomed and accepted me when I arrived at Flighthaven clueless and
terrified. The woman who trusted me with her life.
She’s dead because of me.
A knot of raw emotion clogs my throat, but I don’t have time for a
breakdown. I can’t let anyone else I care about die. Not today.
Get your shit together.
Wrangling the storm of emotion threatening to consume me, I lock it in
a neat little box to unpack when I have the luxury to do so.
The dragon flexes her wings, causing Zephyr to tense under me.
Sliding off the alicorn, I lower my gaze and take slow, cautious steps
toward the creature who just incinerated my best friend.
My heart thunders in my ears. So loud, so all-consuming, I’m sure the
dragon can hear it too. But I’m not afraid. Not for myself. A hollow
numbness settles over me, emboldening me to continue my foolish trek.
Blasts of steam from enormous nostrils hit my face. I keep walking.
Seconds crawl by and the air stills, the sounds of the crowd fading into
nothing.
The dragon huffs out a breath, and I know I’m near. I chance a peek
up…and tortured golden eyes lock on mine. She’s so close that I could
reach out and touch her colossal scaly foreleg.
Holding her gaze, I empty myself of all thought.
 Breathe in. Breathe out.
Unblinking, the dragon lowers her head until she’s eye level with mine.
Glistening black horns protrude from her head. Every part of this creature is
lethal. I have no idea why she hasn’t incinerated me.
My breath hitches as images flicker in my mind. I take a staggering step
back.
The creature’s mind is a seething pit of dark, unspeakable torment.
Shocking memories flash from her to me…
Men in Flighthaven uniforms chain the dragon to the ground, then force
her head between two pieces of wood attached to a wall. There she remains
for days…a week, without food and little water, with no hope of her misery
ending until she obeys her human masters.
Roaring, the beast breaks free, setting fire to her cage and injuring one
of the men.
I wish they’d died.
Water magic from the tallest man puts out the blaze, and his power
encases Aine’s head in thick ice, cutting off sight and the ability to breathe.
After the creature falls to the smoldering straw in her cage unconscious,
men surround her, allowing her some air to live but not enough to grow
alert. They whip her back, flanks, and legs until blood flows from between
the orange scales.
Fury simmers in my veins, and I have to tamp down the magic rising to
the surface.
Injured and starving, the dragon becomes docile, no longer fighting the
men as they pour a dark, burning liquid down her throat.
With hope and will crushed, the dragon takes her place next to her kind
in the aerie…until today. In severe pain from captivity, beatings, starvation,
and whatever the liquid does to her mind and body, she lashed out.
Again, rage storms within the creature, unadulterated hatred swimming
in her eyes.
Willing myself to remain calm, I close my eyes and conjure one of my
happiest memories. It’s the flight home with Sterling and Zephyr, where
I’m at peace and utterly free. I channel that feeling into this unseen
connection with the dragon.
My eyes pop open.
Aine blinks, appearing confused, then wary. Head lifted, she roars.
 The air trembles around me, and the ground shakes from the unearthly
volume. My heart stutters. Somewhere behind me, an alicorn snorts.
Retreating to a place deep inside myself, I imagine ethereal cords
shooting out from me and connecting me with Aine. Snatches of my fondest
memories cascade through my mind. I hold onto the feelings they bring of
peace and calm, of happiness and warmth.
The dragon stills, golden eyes again locking on mine. Slowly, the
tortured, haunted look ebbs from her gaze, replaced by a newfound serenity.
Aine’s anguished images and emotions cease. Now all I feel is an
overwhelming sensation of relief. Of peace. Of freedom.
The breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes in a whoosh.
“That’s right,” I murmur, still envisioning the silken cords between us.
“Go. Be free.”
Lowering her massive head in a gesture reminiscent of a bow, Aine’s
gratitude channels through our connection. She turns her head, giving one
final, ear-splitting roar.
Then she backs away, semitranslucent wings unfurling as she beats the
air and takes off with a gust so powerful, I stagger backward.
Utterly drained of energy, I can no longer fight my lightheadedness. My
knees buckle, and I start to fall.
Strong arms catch me before I hit the ground. My back’s pressed against
a hard chest, and in a matter of seconds, I’m on a black alicorn and soaring
upward. The scent of leather and soap envelops me, and I don’t doubt for a
second whose arms I’m in.
“Are you hurt?” Husky concern laces Sterling’s voice.
“Only a few bruises and scrapes.” I know I should fight him, but I think
I’m in shock. I’m too tired to do anything but sag against him. Now that I
revealed myself as a dragoncaller, no doubt he’ll deliver me directly to the
king. I can’t find it in me to care.
His grip tightens around my waist as we soar above the crowd. When I
glance toward the king, I see his satisfied grin. Beside him, my mother’s
face has gone pale, a silent plea in her eyes. When they lock on mine, she
mouths, Run.

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 Chapter Fifty

Run where? I have nowhere to go.

And does she mean from the king? From Fligthhaven?
The fear that wasn’t present when I faced down the dragon seeps into
my bones, mingling with exhaustion.
To the north, the sky darkens like a storm’s rolling in. Sterling tenses
behind me but says nothing as the sky grows darker and an eerie quiet fills
the air.
“That storm came out of nowhere,” I murmur, mostly to myself.
“This isn’t a storm.” Sterling’s words are so quiet, I have to play them
back in my head to be sure I heard him right.
What the hells is he⁠—
A siren blares.
Within minutes—or maybe seconds—alicorns and riders have joined us
in the air.
The dark mass to the north is much closer now, except it isn’t a mass.
It’s a myriad of creatures, their powerful wings beating as they come
straight toward us.
Winged creatures. I take a good, long look at them. No, not winged
creatures. Winged humans. Just like the one who hunted me down before I
came to Flighthaven.
Oh, shit.
My fear grows into a living, breathing entity. Tirenese.
 In the blur of the next few minutes, too many winged flyers to count
arrive. Through it all, Sterling remains unnervingly silent, his entire body as
tense as a deadly weapon ready to strike.
Except he doesn’t.
As the fighting ensues, he does everything he can to avoid contact with
the Tirenese. And miraculously, they leave us alone.
He flies Balasar right, left, up, down. No matter his direction, there’s
always an airborne fight blocking our escape. At last, he puts his alicorn
into a hover as he surveys the surroundings.
Beneath us, shouts merge with the sirens. Aside from those already in
the air, Flighthaven instructors, recruits, and others scramble toward the
weapons building to arm themselves against the attack.
Screams and grunts flood the air, amid the clang of weapons.
Several of the winged Tirenese swoop close to the ground.
Below us, chaos breaks out.
Several Flighthaven structures burn, including the weapons building,
the alicorn stable, and the dragon aerie. The Tirenese, now in control of the
creatures, fly the animals away from the camp, leaving this area
defenseless.
Instructors and recruits on the few remaining alicorns—along with our
units on the ground—fight against the Tirenese in a lopsided battle.
Fury tears through me. Trembling in outrage, I don’t want to be up here
with Sterling. I need to fight down there before anyone else⁠—
My breath whizzes out.
On foot, two Tirenese circle Theo.
My magic hums and rises to the surface, raw power bursting from my
fingers as I point at Theo’s attackers.
Sterling whips his alicorn around, jerking me before I can try to help.
He executes a series of senseless maneuvers…avoiding Flighthaven
warriors so fast I keep getting dizzy, then flying toward the Tirenese
without brandishing any weapon or using his magic against them. As if he
hopes they’ll let us pass through.
Each time we reach the periphery of the battle, the winged flyers swoop
in to block us…yet they don’t attack.
It’s almost like they’re…protecting us. But that’s impossible.
He flies through an open spot in the battle, navigating Balasar past a
wailing Tirenese warrior. A female recruit thrusts a blade deep in his thigh,
then his belly. At last, there’s another opening in the battle, with no one
blocking us from leaving the scene.
As he directs Balasar on a path that will leave the carnage behind, an
arrows streaks through the air. The weapon strikes flesh, piercing the
alicorn’s neck. Blood spurts like a geyser from the wound.
Horror clogs my throat.
With an agonized grunt and flailing wings, Balasar tumbles from the
sky, and the ground rushes up to meet us.
Shock ripples through me.
Short of some miracle, Sterling and I won’t survive this.
A snap fills the air, followed by another. I squeeze my eyelids tight. We
jerk upward—away from Balasar—as if we’re attached to an invisible
string. Then we hover in the air, accompanied by a gentle flapping as we
hang suspended.
What just happened?
My eyes snap open, and the air whooshes from my lungs.
Enormous feathered wings protrude from Sterling’s back, streaked with
silver as if forged from the finest metal.
I gape. “You…” Shock makes forming words difficult . “You’re…”
A broad-shouldered winged flyer with piercing blue eyes and tied back
red-brown hair approaches, hovering in the air beside us. The man’s about
Sterling’s age, his handsome, battle-scarred face sporting a faint dusting of
freckles.
“Prince Silver.” He dips his head in tribute. “We’re here to provide
escort to King Jasper.” The man flicks his gaze to me before returning his
attention to Sterling. “Your brother’s eager to meet your new…friend.”
Friend.
I fight the urge to scoff at the use of the term. Friends don’t lie about
their identity. They don’t betray each other.
Bile rises in my throat as the events of the past hour weigh on me. Olive
has died. Xenon wants to exploit me. Sterling—or whoever the hell he is—
betrayed me. He gained my trust and won my heart so he could use me.
Mustering all the force I have left, I throw my elbow back into his gut.
With a grunt and a swear, Sterling grips my wrists and holds them in
one hand against his chest.
The other man heaves a sigh. “It’s in your sister’s best interest for you
to accompany us without resisting.”
To Be Continued…

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 Acknowledgments

I enjoy a variety of different genres, but romance owns my heart, with

fantasy a close runner-up. Getting the opportunity to combine my two
favorites into a single story makes me a very happy writer. As all writers
know, the amount of work involved in creating a book from that first
inkling of an idea up through final publication is no joke. The journey
requires the support of a lot of people, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t express
my appreciation.

Thanks to my editing team for helping me make the book stronger and for
bonding with me over Merriam-Webster’s odd, hyphen-phobic ways
(rescued, MW? Really?) Shout out to my cover artist, because no one
should ever be subjected to my art-challenged creations. A huge thank you
to RoseHarbor Publishing for making my dream come true by taking a
chance on a new author.
Beta readers, I appreciate your enthusiasm and feedback so very much.
Also, thanks to the small group of writers that adopted me into their fold
and shared their knowledge along the way.
I’m so incredibly grateful to my family and friends for standing by me
while I pursue my dream. Much love to you all, muah!
A final shout out to you, the reader, for downloading my book and granting
me the gift of your attention and time. I appreciate each and every one of
you!

Nina

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 About Nina Frost

Nina Frost’s passion for creating stories began in elementary school when she started rewriting the
book endings that made her cry. She loves fantasy worlds, laugh-out-loud banter, plucky heroines
who never give up, and the infuriating yet irresistible heroes who fall head over heels for them.

A native California, Nina spends most of her non-writing time outdoors, enjoying the sunny weather
while periodically bemoaning the lack of seasons. She enjoys reading, waterfall hikes, and couch
surfing with her husband, kids, and fur babies.

Discover more about Nina Frost on her website.

www.authorninafrost.com

Connect with Nina online

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