Page 138 of Wings of Destruction

Harbi nods as though she’s filing my answer away for later before adding carefully, “If you decide to join the student body, you will serve the kingdom. You will be taught by the best and brightest minds of Manifest. You will be trained and you will have the opportunity to be chosen by a mount. Not just a unicorn, although if that is the route of your heart and your fate, then so be it. This opportunity does not belong to everyone.”

Not just a unicorn…

The way she says it, like being a part of the herd is somehow less important than any of the other mounts…

“Like I said.” My lips purse in disgust, a muscle twitching at my temple. “Pass.”

“Fine. It is entirely up to you. You have a place here, if you want it, or you accept the punishment for servants who strike a noble.” Harbi continues like I haven’t spoken. Her eyes, though. A begrudging respect? “This includes a whipping before you’re sent to work in the worst part of the mines. You will die. There is no situation where you make it out of there alive.”

“I’ll survive the whipping,” I insist hotly.

Kieran clears his throat. “The whip will be held by the noble you accosted. It bears mentioning.”

I stop, the skin of my wrists raw from attempting to escape. Evie will be the one holding the whip? In that case, it’s either death by whip without even making it to the mines or serving the people who killed my family.

Going to school here, being an actual student, will mean a completely different trajectory toward my goals. It will give me the space to execute my revenge.

“There’s no third choice, if that’s what you’re considering, Miss Whyte.” Harbi sounds conversational as she sets the object on the desk in front of me. “Those are your options. This time, it is quite black and white.”

Far enough away to force me to take a step closer.

I tuck my raw wrists into the folds of my dress as I approach.

Harbi had two things hidden in her hands. The first is a letter, like the one I’d gotten in the mail before the battle of Fallkirk. My acceptance to DragonSpear. The second is a stamper in gold, the flat bottom portion glittering with the school crest.

Dueling dragons chase each other and eat their own tails, a coat of arms nestled between them.

How many official proclamations has Harbi used this on to show her authority?

She grabs the slender handle of a brass pitcher and a glass from one of her desk drawers while I stare open-mouthed at the unlikely objects.

“Do I get a little time to think about it?” My dry throat aches for a sip of whatever it is she’s going to pour.

A stream of wine fills the interior of the hammered glass. I nearly groan when she lifts it to her lips and the room fills with the scents of rich red wine with notes of oak and clove.

Harbi knows it, too. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

The question is, do I know what I’m doing by refusing? There’s really no other choice. I’ve already resigned myself to death. Does it really matter how it takes me?

“By all means,” she says calmly before taking a sip. “You’re the only one dealing with the expiration date. Not me.”

Twenty-Nine

Kieran

She’s going to agree.

Seriously, what kind of fool would do anything but agree, even if they aren’t certain of the terms?

I settle my weight evenly on both feet until my knees cramp and I shift to the left. The pause makes me uncomfortable.

What is there to think about? It’s cut and dried, or like Harbi said, it’s black and white. It’s death or it’s life. It’s an opportunity or it is a full stop.

Don’t be a fool, Morgan.

The overwhelming desire to grab her by the shoulders and shake her literally curls my fingers.

“An expiration date?” Harried laughter trickles out of her. “An invitation is an invitation, isn’t it? Not to mention you’ll need time for your precious Evie to recover from what I did to her. If she’s going to hold the whip.”