Page 117 of Wings of Destruction

Sabotaged on all fronts, but not defeated. Not yet.

I growl at the broom handle and the messy mandala of dirt and food in a circle at my feet.

“Aw, this is adorable.” Evie claps slowly and steps into the dining hall. “Is our wittle Morgan having trouble sweeping? We came at the right time, ladies.”

Her affected tone makes the clique of girls behind her giggle uproariously. I critique the scene in an instant. Evie, wearing her black DragonSpear tunic, her hair done up. No weapons. Her friends are dressed similarly and I wonder if they trail her in a gaggle on a normal basis or if she somehow had a gut feeling she’d need backup today.

“I find you knowing my name adorable,” I toss back. “How many people did you have to ask?”

Evie pulls up short, her pretty nose twisted up toward the ceiling. Her sneer is a thing of practiced beauty and I halfway wonder if she looks this polished and perfect when she isn’t wearing it.

Like armor. We all have our strengths and our weaknesses and make up for the latter in strange ways.

“It’s not a compliment, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she replies. “I try to know the names of every annoyance so I can look them in the eye when I crush them. I like to make it personal.”

I lean heavily on the broom handle, bending the bristles. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. It’s good to know I’ve gotten under your skin with so little effort. I didn’t have to try.”

Evie must be the type of woman who never goes anywhere without a group at her back. Is it a learned thing or is it a practice she’s adopted since she came to DragonSpear? Is it validation, or strategy?

Maybe she can’t be on her own.

Maybe she doesn’t know how to hack it without sycophants surrounding her.

Or maybe she understands that in a place like this, it’s better to have allies than enemies.

Evie lets out a snide laugh and steps directly in the center of the meager pile of debris I’ve gathered. She grinds it into the floor with her boot. “It’s not you personally. I’m sure you want to believe it is. It’s your existence. You should not be here.”

I stand my ground, refusing to let her sway me. “Trust me, I know.”

Today, her hair bothers me. The perfection of every glowing golden strand, the diadem around her smooth forehead, everything.

Evie has outlined her almond-shaped blue eyes with some sort of black kohl liner to emphasize their depth and color. Her tunic, her leather armor—if one can call it that—is cut to show off the lean lines of muscles as well as her cleavage.

She is built for attention. And the girls behind her are shadowy wraiths in her light.

How was she chosen by a mount instead of me? Do circumstances play a part or is it all about money? Who you know, what your family does… reputation.

The thought flashes through me and dies. It doesn’t matter. None of it does.

I drop my head and break eye contact first, going back to sweeping. Ignore her and she’ll go away. Head down. No more waves.

“I suppose it really does go to show you how right the General is,” Evie continues. “His campaign to cleanse the world of filth is the first step toward balance and peace. There’s no way for our kind to survive when there are riffraff overpowering the world.”

“You’re too right,” one of her clique answers in soothing tones.

“General Ryson is so wise to thin the herd. To cull the disloyal filth from the stables of Manifest.” Evie steps close enough for me to feel the pressing heat from her body.

She waits, marking her target, poised to spring. “The lives lost are not a waste. They’re a step in the right direction.”

She’s goading me on purpose. Pushing me where she knows I’ll go.

“Don’t,” I whisper.

She pinches my shoulder between her index finger and thumb. “Don’t what? Tell you it was necessary for your village to be burned? Any enemies to the campaign deserve to die. It’s the only way for the truly worthy to thrive.”

My restraint fractures inside me like glass under pressure. Every word about my family’s death becomes a hammer blow, until I shatter completely.

Everything hits me at once with enough of a rush to send the last thoughts scattering out of my head, replaced with a roaring wind.