Page 63 of Ignite the Infernos

The big Thrasher shrugs cooly. “You’re not lying outright, but you’ve also proven quite adept at playing with the truth,” he contends. “It’s possible you’re being honest, or you could be manipulating my affinity like you’ve done plenty of times before.”

I stare up at him, at a loss for words. His statement stings like the aftermath of a hard slap. He’s not wrong, but he’s also a hypocrite, and I’m fed up with the incredulity and the jabs. Turning back around, I slam a lid on my ire and leave it to simmer as the elevator doors close. No one else says anything, and I cross my arms over my chest and pretend it doesn’t hurt as badly as it does.

The elevator drops down, and my pulse shoots up. “I swear on the all-healing Source, if anyone tries to put me in a cell, you’ll all be dead to me,” I warn flatly, hating the way my fury does little to hide my distress.

It’s bad enough that Aeson accused me of whatever just happened in the infirmary, but to take it further is skirting dangerously close to unforgivable. I’ve been more open in the past two days than I’ve ever been in my life, and if they’re going to continue to punish me for protecting those I care about, then maybe the other Syphons were right and trusting dragons is a mistake.

“We’re not going to the warren,” Aeson announces, his back to me in the tight space.

“Then why are we going to Thrasher Keep?” I demand, my stomach dropping in time with the plummet of the elevator car.

“I need to check on something,” he answers cryptically, and I throw my head back with an annoyed sigh.

Oh goody, we’re back to vague and elusive . . . my favorite.

“If this is another interrogation, there better be food,” I grouse.

No one answers me or addresses my demand, but we finally stop dropping and shoot forward instead. I count the seconds like it will help orient me to where we are underground, but it’s pointless. My shoulder twinges and I rub the spot where Healer Ramirez administered the serum meant to aid my healing. I only had to be held down by three drakes to let her get near me with a needle, so I’m marking that in the progress column. I’m sure I’ll relive all of it in my nightmares tonight, but that’s a problem for later.

An uncomfortable ache pulses through me, and I couldn’t say if it’s a result of the injection, stress crashing my nervous system, or something more innocuous, like everyone testing my patience, or the fact I slept like shit last night.

We come to a stop, and the elevator doors swoosh open instantly. The telltale earthy tones of Thrasher Keep come into view, and I’m escorted out into a massive corridor.

“How many did you pull?” Aeson asks, but I don’t know who the question is directed to.

“Thirty,” Ogdan answers, not suffering the same confusion. “I figured that would give us a wide enough pool to choose from in case she wants to make things difficult.”

Aeson offers his second an approving nod, and a sinking suspicion starts to tap urgently at my mind. Before I can open a mental door and shout, “What do you bloody want?” a large entryway materializes off to the left. It almost looks like the passage we took to the haptic simulator that time Aeson challenged me to a fight, but not quite.

“Fall in,” someone barks sharply, and then it hits me like a dragon tail to the face.

The Call to Arms.

How could I forget why Aeson and I were battling it out in the simulator to begin with? He was trying to encumber me with a Wing, and I’d bet my left tit we’re here to get those shackles locked firmly in place.

Like a lit fuse, indignation begins to burn down the wick of my patience, but I manage to keep myself in check when Aeson’s Wing moves to take up positions on each side of him, leaving just enough room for me to step forward and claim the space at the commander’s side.

Instinctively, I calculate the odds of successfully making a break for it. I could probably sprint halfway to the elevator before someone tackled me, but running is the wrong move. Aeson and his Wing would have no qualms about dragging me back here kicking and screaming, and as much as I don’t like it, I have to come to terms with the fact that this is inevitable.

Only the stars know if I can manage it, but if I’m going to build a life here, this is my reality. Wings, bonds, fancy food, fancier clothes, conclaves, nobles, powerplays, and sabotage, I’m up against all of it and more. It’s time to stop fighting reality, and instead forge my defenses against those that want to hurt me, and in turn the others.

With a deep breath that does nothing to chase away my apprehension, I step forward and take my place next to Aeson. Rows of faces devoid of all emotion stare back at me, and the gravity of what I’m here to do presses heavily against my shoulders.

I consider Aeson’s Wing, note the balance of ability and the ease of the relationships. I wish I knew if their comradery was normal or unique. I don’t recall how it worked for either of my parents. I was too young to care, too young to pay attention.

“Today is your Selection Day,” Aeson announces, his voice carrying loudly through the room that looks like it was built for heavy sparring.

In perfect synchronicity, the thirty figures standing before me pick up their left foot and stomp it hard on the ground. The clamor of the gesture moves through me like the thunder earlier, only this is less a percussive force and more of an intrinsic one. It’s as though we’re no longer standing in this training room but instead are gathered at some ancient clearing on the precipice of real battle. It reminds me of the Syphons and the last time Enslee addressed everyone.

Like the commander he is, Aeson surveys the gathered drakes—each of them seasoned and decorated Flight Leaders—with both respect and expectation. “For weeks, you’ve pushed yourselves to the limit; you’ve trained, tested, and at last been deemed worthy.”

Another stomp pounds through the room, and the rising anticipation skitters up my spine.

“Six of you will be selected for trial by Ever Tenebrae, daughter of the late King Merik Tenebrae, the last Syphon of her line, and my Bonded Mate.”

The stomp that fills the room is followed by another and another until the thundering thrum in the room matches the cadence thumping in my chest. Stares that previously looked through me now look directly at me, and they’re filled with so much pride and veneration my throat grows tight.

I’ve been wrestling painfully with where I fit. Foundations I once thought unbreakable have crumbled beneath my feet so much faster than I ever thought possible. It’s left me teetering between two worlds yet belonging to neither. I didn’t know how I was going to move forward. I had no idea where to even start, but maybe here I can rebuild something solid, something stronger, something meant just for me.