Page 100 of Tailwind

‘Then make yourself valuable, kid. Training here with me will prepare you to make the most of the opportunities you get, but it’s not going to open doors for you. I can only get you so far.’

He took the hilt, coupled it with his own and headed back towards the ranch buildings. Bach was good at that – dropping his opinions like facts and walking off before I could argue.

His words echoed around my mind. How was I supposed to make myself more valuable outside of flying? I was well aware of how much Kiestral didn’t want me around. I had devalued Thorne and their whole establishment by speaking out.

Thorne was a terrible rider sure, but he still brought in a legion of fans that the sponsors wanted to pander to. Martan had said as much. Thorne was popular. I wasn’t.

I groaned as I realized a way forward. I needed to be valuable and if I couldn’t convince Volitant and Kiestral of that through my flying alone, I had to go elsewhere. I had to become popular.

It wasn’t something I was naturally inclined to be. For some reason most people found loud competitive women off-putting. I wasn’t even sure how I would go about it … if I even could. However, there was someone who did know. Someone who didn’t even have to try when it came to winning people over.

If Bach was a legend for flying and Josie was a genius in strategy, then I needed an expert in being insufferably popular. Someone who paid attention to the fame and fed on it. Someone vain, charismatic and self-aware enough to milk it for all his worth.

‘This is going to be so fucking annoying!’

I needed Theo.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Up until I moved out of my parents’ house and in with Cam when I was twelve, the islands of the Crescent had felt more like a home to me than Gedeinia. They were certainly the most comforting. Home for me meant tension, waiting for someone to drop bad news that they’d got into trouble. Sitting between my mother and Cam around the dinner table was like waiting in the jaws of a dragon and hoping they didn’t get hungry.

This city though only held the best kind of memories.

I walked down the skinny streets from the train station to the edges of town along the coast. The setting sun was beginning to cast a golden glow over the white-rendered buildings. The more modern ones with giant glass panels reflected it in every direction, filling even the narrowest roads with fiery light.

It matched the glorious smells that began to fill the air. In between the tall skyscrapers of stone, metal and glass were the smaller, squatter buildings of the old town. They had their windows and doors flung open to the streets, letting out the scents of whatever was cooking inside.

I passed a dozen restaurants, each selling a variation on the mouth-watering fried foods the city was known for. A cheerful man was leaning out of his window with a towel wrapped around his damp hair, chatting with a woman passing by with her pet iguana draped over one shoulder. She could have been a neighbour or stranger, it didn’t matter. In a city populated by hundreds of thousands with only enough land for half that, the citizens lived on top of one another and never knew a person they couldn’t win over with a shared meal.

By the time I reached the fancy district of Theo’s home my stomach had shrivelled up in protest as I bypassed the delicious smells. Resisting a snack on the way was one of the hardest things I’d had to do all season. Harder still was the idea of facing Theo’s family after so long apart. Theo had insisted they wanted to hear from me, but that didn’t make it any easier.

It would be worth it though. I hoped.

The sweeping facade of the Vaspre family home was ablaze with outdoor lighting, making it look even more dramatic than it was built to be. The modern building was wider than it was tall, with floor-to-ceiling windows that somehow still protected the occupants’ privacy. It was also telling of their wealth that their home’s footprint covered several families’ worth just a few miles down the road.

It was all smooth sweeping lines, no harsh angles anywhere. Despite the elegance, purple Ballenir flags hanging from the eaves still fluttered in the coastal breeze.

Theo’s parents, Ophelia and Alesso, had never been anything but supportive. My heart sped up at the thought of seeing them after so long. I had no idea what Theo had told them of our falling out years ago.

I climbed the front steps and knocked on the too-wide front door. There wasn’t a handle, they were too rich for those. Instead there was a security augment at the side that wasn’t dissimilar from the ones used in Volitant headquarters.

The door swung open, deceptively light for one so massive. The first thing I saw was a familiar head of dark curls.

‘Lena?’ Ophelia, Theo’s mother, raised a hand to her mouth as she stared at me.

I was drawn in by her flowery scent as she pulled me into a hug. The sounds of more Vaspres reached my ears from further into the home. My throat thickened.

‘Theo said you’d be getting in touch soon! I didn’t realize it would be in person!’ Ophelia cupped my face in her soft, warm hands. She held it there for a long moment, even turned my head from side to side to check me over. ‘It’s good that you came, sweetheart.’

My shoulders released their tension, the guilt stirred inside, but was squashed by the safe feeling that was rapidly enveloping me.

I was corralled through the entry way – the great curved staircase wound lazily up to a mezzanine that hung over the doors leading to each area of the house. My gaze drifted upwards. I wondered if Theo was up there in his room, or if he would appear elsewhere. My heart picked up speed.

The wooden floor creaked underfoot, making the footsteps sound like there were twice as many people in the house as there were. The voices of the family became clearer, coming from the kitchen.

‘Dinner is almost ready. You can tell us all about what you’ve been up to as you help.’ Ophelia led me to the heart of the home.

Nerves crept upwards as I prepared for the questions. Then the heat washed over me the moment we crossed through the open doorway into the kitchen. The floor was a deep orange tile, a hexagonal pattern that Ophelia used to complain about not liking, yet had kept for decades.