Page 6 of Tailwind

‘Kiss my ass, Vaspre.’ I shrugged my bag back onto my shoulder and forced my way through the crowd, fans be damned.

People pulled away from me like a receding tide, happy to let me leave so they could get closer to Theo Vaspre and his massive ego. I stormed onwards, leaving the crowd behind.

No longer stuck with me? That was rich coming from him. I was the free one. I was better off without him. I’d let go of him a long time ago. Perhaps I should have said as much. That our decade of friendship wasn’t just dead, but buried and rotted through.

Maybe he’d forgotten that he’d been the one to betray me. Very fitting, now that I knew the type of person he really was. Not a good teammate. Not a loyal friend.

The gloom of the cliffside caverns matched my mood as I entered into race headquarters, leaving the sunshine and fresh air behind. The staff of other Volitant Chroma teams buzzed around me. Their faces were blurry as my mind offered up memories that only made me feel worse.

Meeting Theo for the first time at eight years old, only a few miles away from here at the Junior Drake track, where we’d ridden the small wingless lizards. The same summer sun beating down on us as we shook hands, agreeing with childish earnestness that we would be friends forever.

Lying on the grassy clifftop behind Cam’s house at sixteen, watching the clouds drift by as the grass made our legs itch. Planning on how we’d make sure to be teammates in the coming race season.

The look on his face at eighteen as we dismounted after our final race in the Wyvern Cup. The dimpled smile as he celebrated his win, not caring that he’d used me to get it.

It all came rushing back, caving my chest in and increasing the heat behind my eyes. I rubbed at them, desperate to hold myself together. I rushed forwards and bounced off someone in my path.

‘Watch where you’re going!’ I snapped, pushing my hair out of my face.

My stomach dropped. The angry fire Theo had awakened was doused with fear as I met the hollow eyes of Huwin Thorne.

Thorne was unmoved by my crashing into him, but the crags of his face morphed into a scowl all the same.

‘What did you say?’ Venom dripped from his words and their paralysing effect crept through me.

For one long moment I held his gaze, torn between fight and flight. Both were natural for me. I could punch as well as I could ride a dragon.

Then I saw the colours of the team crews around us, the blues, greens, purples and whites merging together. I heard the whispers as they passed, their heads on a swivel to watch what happened. Worst was the few people dressed in the same orange as me – they were the ones who looked away. I deflated.

‘Nothing.’ Heat flushed my cheeks and an acidic pit opened in my stomach, devouring me from the inside out.

‘Get your act together,’ Thorne spat. ‘Stop running around like a child. You’re an embarrassment to the team.’

He grabbed me by the sleeve, as if he would rip the orange right off me.

‘What a waste of space.’ He dropped me again and wiped his hand on his trousers, cleaning me off himself. ‘You simper in the corners of every room you’re in and now you’re trying to mow down riders before the race.’

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. That was a mistake though, because all I saw instead were the faces of other Kiestral crew. Two strategists hurrying to the team briefing, casting glances behind them until they caught my eye. All of a sudden I was the last thing they wanted to be looking at.

‘Look at me when I’m talking to you!’ His shout bounced off the polished floor, making my ears ring.

My hands curled into fists, my right drawing back slightly. I blinked and for the split second my eyes were closed I saw Gottyk’s big brown eyes looking back at me.

I swallowed the rage and did what Thorne demanded. His pupils were wide, the whites streaked with red at the corners. I wished he would pop a blood vessel and keel over, leaving me and my dragon alone for good.

His nose wrinkled, as if the sight of me disgusted him. ‘Fuck off before I tell Moss to get rid of you.’

Name-dropping the team boss sent a trickle of fear down my spine. Enough to make me slink away in shame.

The polished floor of the aviary did nothing to help me as I rushed from the main thoroughfare to the briefing room. Not only had Thorne humiliated me, but he’d delayed me too. By instinct I took the racing line through the sandstone tunnel: brushing the inside corner where two corridors met and speeding up on the exit.

Disappearing into a race, even an imaginary one, was all I could do to steady myself.

Not that it helped me find where I was going. As I took a second left, then a third, I saw a flash of orange disappearing in the opposite direction. The team briefing must be wherever they were going.

Cursing the identical tunnels I sped after my Kiestral teammate, hoping they weren’t one of the ones who’d seen the mess with Thorne.

I followed them to the right and staggered to a stop. He’d reached the briefing room, his hand on the door ready to go in. My heart rate picked up even while still, the same as it did every time I saw him.