Page 134 of Wings of Destruction

The ropes bite deep enough to cut off my circulation.

I wiggle my toes and feel nothing. My fingers are similarly numb and I work my wrists to get the blood flowing again. Kieran certainly knows how to tie a knot. The bindings only get tighter when I work to free myself.

I push up on tingling feet to connect the chair to the stone wall. If I can break it, then I’ll limp out of here still attached to the cursed thing, but I’ll be free.

Whatever Kieran wants to say to the headmistress, I don’t care. Even his cold friend Astrid thinks whatever plan he’s formulating is a terrible one.

So it won’t be good for me. I feel it in my bones.

Sweating, bleeding, I work the leathers. They’re worse than the ropes, and Kieran’s knots are superior to Tristan’s.

Doomed.

The word circles in my head again.

Stomping footsteps grow louder and I glance up at the ducked heads of two of the professors in their matching black academic robes.

“Please. Please help me.” I lean forward, straining. “Please let me go.”

They lift their voices to drown out my pleas. And hurry their steps to get past me sooner. That’s how this place works. And I’ve done a poor job of blending in the way I needed to.

I bounce in the chair but the old wood is sturdy and well made. Not entirely comfortable but then again, it’s not supposed to be. It’s meant to put the person gracing the seat in a state of nerves before Harbi swoops in for the kill.

I’ve heard about her before.

My lip peels up as I watch the professors’ retreating backs.

I know the headmistress once went to school with the general and that she was so fierce even her teachers couldn’t tell her no. Not much is known about her beyond her old reputation, but it’s served her well for years, a well-made shield, almost impenetrable. No one has questioned her.

I’m a subject in her domain and maybe I should be happy to not have our orbits cross until now. Because my knees shake.

Kieran is probably petitioning her to let his dragon eat me or something.

The murmur of voices in the distance gets louder and a rush of students cuts through the corridor beyond.

“Help!” My throat hurts from yelling. “Someone, help me! Please!”

There’s laughter and conversation, there’s yelling and stomping, and sweat pools underneath my arms. Stupid girl. When are you going to learn? No one is coming to help you.

The tears threaten to spill, and I bite my cheek hard enough to taste copper, using the sharp pain to force them back. I’ll never learn.

Searching my soul, I have no excuses. I’m in this position because of my choices and no one else’s.

But Kieran is worse than I am. There’s a glimmer in his eyes when he looks at me, something like compassion, and it’s the dirtiest tactic anyone has played. He makes me believe he actually does care even when he has me on my back.

People like him don’t care. They use and use until there is nothing left for them to take and then they throw people away like they really are tools. Disposable.

What does he want to do with me? The question plagues me and the sweat drips from my arms down my sides. The dress fabric is too poorly made to absorb most of it. Beads of moisture slick down to my legs and I shift on the uncomfortable seat.

“How much longer will I have to sit here and wait?” I scream.

Hopefully Kieran hears me.

The corridors slowly clear out and the sun marching outside the window at the end of the hallway marks the hour. I wasted too much time in the dining hall cleaning. The dinner bell will toll any second now and the process will start all over again once the elite have had their fill of heart clogging richness.

The door to the office swings open after an eternity. Heart skipping a beat, I stare at the sliver of darkness from the other side.

Even if it’s my cue to enter, I’d rather not; I don’t want to see what’s on the other side and hear them tell me their decision on my fate. I don’t know if it’s changed or not. The way Kieran overpowered me, the way he took control⁠—