Page 157 of Wings of Destruction

I thought I had him tucked underneath a neat label of understanding with his quick smirk and the glint of mischief in his eyes. Coupled with an ego the size of the kingdom?

It’s hard not to understand a man like him on an intrinsic level. He’s dangerous outside of his bloodline.

Only he’s kept me on my toes in more ways than one. My heart spins into my throat as I toss the dagger in the air and catch it by the handle, every step onto the mat taking me farther away from what happened in the classroom.

Did he skulk off somewhere to wallow in his failure with me?

Did he go straight back to Harbi to do more dealing?

I toss the dagger at the long pole jutting like a finger from the floor. It burrows halfway up the wood and sticks firm. It doesn’t make me feel any better. There are frustrations to work off, thoughts to bully into order, and minutes ticking down.

The gym is empty, cavernous. The weapons wait to be used. I cross to the pole and rest my fingers on the handle of the stolen blade.

Kieran had been furious, not quite yelling, but certainly doing his damnedest to beat understanding into my skull with the harshness of his words.

And here we are.

Opposite sides of the same coin and neither one of us is willing to bend. He can’t justify my actions and I’ll never be able to sell out to the General and the King.

The dagger is well balanced. Sharp enough to slice through whatever I put it to work doing, as its previous owner intended. Does Kieran even realize it’s gone yet? Does he miss the weight?

“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter.”

Any bit of safety I clawed out of this place is nothing but an illusion. It will shatter, the way all illusions do, and when it finally happens at least I’ll know I braced for it. At least I’ll know I wasn’t taken by surprise, as so many people are when they stay optimistic.

It’s better, I think dryly, for Faye to stick with her friends, the people who are like her.

Better for Kieran as well. He has his group and a part to play which does not involve me. When I’m gone, he will slither back into his routine and in no time, I’ll be a better forgotten memory.

So, I’m going to work my tired muscles into a frenzy until they refuse to move because I have too much energy to sit and wait for the noose to snap tight.

Thirty-Three

Kieran

If I hadn’t gotten out of the classroom, I’d have done something worse than my many other foolish actions. Something like kiss Morgan Whyte senseless.

She is an intoxicating mix of demanding, intimidating, and utterly maddening, in no particular order.

Head down, I stomp down the hallway with the dull thud of my footsteps keeping me company, stopping at the slightly ajar doors to the dining hall.

My day began there. Now, the tables are packed with bodies, laughter and the clink of silverware in the air.

How many of these recruits will make it to graduation? I can’t muster the energy to count, or to care, but if history repeats itself then the number will be culled by at least half.

It’s the way of life and certainly at DragonSpear, on a smaller scale.

The warriors who come out of this place are tested and hardened and any last bit of hesitation hammered out of them. If the curriculum doesn’t do the trick, then infighting among students does.

I smooth a hand down the front of my leathers and push out a long breath.

And although I want to forget the last few hours, an image of Morgan Whyte’s face rips through my mind.

Growling, I force the image aside, but it snags somewhere before it disappears, like an imprint is left behind.

I’m pathetic.

Worse than a lovesick boy mooning over his first infatuation.