Page 143 of Wings of Destruction

A shock of red hair flashes from somewhere down the hall and I step closer⁠—

Astrid grabs my leathers. “Stop.”

I vibrate in her hand, my attention torn. “What?”

Those keen eyes bore straight through me and uncover the ragged bits I’m trying to hide. “This isn’t like you.”

Her voice is soft, confused, and disparaging.

“Remember everything we’re trying to build and ask yourself again if she’s worth it. If she’s⁠—”

I lift a hand and Astrid stops mid argument.

“I’ve heard enough, okay?” I say quietly.

“Have you?”

“I’ve indulged in your opinions often lately and I’m putting an end to it. You’ve made your analysis, Astrid. Enough.”

She forces a smile. “Just trying to give the great general’s son a little advice.”

“Lower your expectations. Otherwise someone might accuse you of being too optimistic.”

“I normally don’t have to beat you upside the head with this much logic. Something has gotten into you. Something unusual.” She takes a step back and stares curiously at me.

My composure splinters apart. “You’re wasting your breath.”

Astrid flings me away from her and turns back the way we’ve come. I wait until the echo of her footsteps up the stairs has disappeared. At this point, I’ve lost Morgan. There’s no way for me to make any headway through the maze and my last sight of her isn’t enough to give me a direction.

You’re wondering if Astrid is right, Mozi adds.

Of course I am. She’s never failed me before. She’s the one person I can count on without question. And because I am a fool, I turn tail and retrace my steps as well.

I only hope you know what you’re doing, too.

I’m sick of everyone questioning me, mostly because I’m not entirely sold on my choices myself. My muscles stiffen on my way back to the entrance panel.

The sight of the familiar hallway in the main portion of the castle fills me with relief the second I step free. The claustrophobic and musty maid’s corridors would drive anyone out of their mind.

Can I blame Morgan for being a little unhinged? Or a lot unhinged.

I duck my head, carefully considering my next move. She’s a young woman who’s lived in constant upheaval and upset since her village was torched. War is a brutal business and my father murdered her family.

She had her future ripped away and her movements crippled since I brought her here. It might have satisfied my ego to think she’d play along but reality is very different from conjecture.

At least I still have a chance to convince her to join me. Still…

The future feels incredibly dim. How long have I been lost in my thoughts with too little sleep and a disturbing fascination for a redheaded warrior who wants nothing to do with me?

What role am I really supposed to play in this game? Harbi’s pawn? My father’s weapon? Or something else entirely?

“Dragon’s teeth, Kieran, have you been tussling with a dust mop? You’re covered in cobwebs.” Tristan’s voice curdles my blood.

In response, I sneer at him. “I’m not the one skulking around in corridors.”

Tristan pushes away from the wall with an innocent shrug and a simpering smile, one I’ve seen on his face quite regularly.

He clamps a hand on my shoulder and his fingers bite hard enough to get me to cry out. He’s used the tactic on people before to bring them to the ground when their knees buckle.