Page 139 of Wings of Destruction

I match her laughter. “Why would she hold the whip?”

There is no way Morgan will say no to this, not after I put myself on the line for her. She’s intelligent. She has to have at least some concept of what went into making this deal possible?

I put everything on the line for her. “Morgan? Look at me.”

Harbi sips her wine with the ease of a person attending a lecture on social commentary. If I had half her practiced poise, I’d have a much easier time with my classes.

I’m better on the field.

Without my father there to watch me, I slip on the mask and I pretend I’m cold hearted, exactly the way he wants me to be.

My heart feels all too real right now while my mouth dries and I wait for the important answer I crave. Yes, she’ll say yes.

She’s a servant, a lowly soul who will snatch at a hand extending in mercy and compassion.

“I would serve the kingdom?” She jerks and her braid twitches. “In what capacity?”

Harbi swallows down her wine. “In the usual way; the way all our students at DragonSpear are equipped to be productive members of society. We will sharpen your intellect, expand your mind, and empower you to make decisions.”

Morgan circles her wrists. “The right decisions, you mean. The King’s decisions.”

I’ve watched her try and slip through the bindings since I wrapped them. There’s no way for her to do it unless she wants to cut off her hands. Or if she somehow manages to not only get to the wall of weapons but slice through the leather without one or both of us stopping her.

“King Lochlain has the best interests of his people in mind. He too has been trained since infancy to lead Manifest. I make no claim to bear equal responsibility but I will uphold the demands of the royals. So will you, by the time you are ready to graduate.”

“Like you said,” Morgan adds through her teeth. “The kingdom killed my mother. Lochlain sanctioned it.”

Harbi’s smile is grim. “I have my doubts that the king personally signed her death warrant.”

There’s an edge to Morgan which hasn’t been there when I’ve watched her before. It isn’t just the blood dried on her skin or the way she carries herself, hitching slightly to the side to make up for the pain in her opposite leg. It’s not the cut on her cheek or the sleepless nights written on her face like purple paint beneath her eyes.

“He might not have been there riding the dragon, but he’s responsible for her death, and the way the rest of my home burned to the ground.”

Morgan whips around to glare at me.

Even if it’s a matter of convincing myself I’ve done the right thing, I know it will all work out. It has to work out. There are no other options. Harbi would not have agreed to give Morgan a place here if she thought it was a bad investment.

Harbi has the necessary foresight to see an asset in front of her.

“I’m not here to discuss philosophy with you.” Harbi glances at the ticking clock on her bookshelves. “You’re nearly out of time to give me your answer. What will it be?”

Silence stretches between us and solidifies in the air. The room constricts around us, smaller and constricting, and the domed ceiling feels close enough for me to reach out and touch.

My brow twitches while I wait for Morgan to speak.

“At least consider it.” I shatter the silence and although I hadn’t spoken loudly, she flinches.

She feels my stare on her skin, aware of it through the entirety of this meeting. I’ve caught the way she nibbled her lip, the way she kept from looking in my direction out of spite. But now, her gaze flicks to me beneath a sweep of her red hair and there’s no weak smile. There is no jarring grin to break up the brutal beauty of her features.

There is none of the pretense of bravery. She is as bone weary as the rest of us.

“I would rather take the whip than serve under a tyrant. It’s no choice. I will not give up my morality for a nicer room.”

Her words land aggressively, and it takes a long time for me to realize what she’s said. What she’s done. My horror grows.

“You… you what?” I grunt out.

She’s made her choice.