Page 179 of Wings of Destruction

I shiver.

I never knew. I always thought the mounts and the riders reached some sort of accord and that the riders had more of a choice in the matter.

The way Harbi makes it sound⁠—

There’s no choice at all.

What did that massive, bloodthirsty dragon of General Ryson’s see in his heart?

“I’ve heard you come from a village of unicorns. As long as you are prepared for the potentiality that you may not follow in your family’s footsteps. And that we expect great things from you.”

Harbi lays out her expectations in mincing, exact tones. And they are overwhelming. Finally, I take both the heavy stamp and the letter from her, unsure of what to do with both.

“Cross me once, disappoint me once, and you’ll find yourself in chains bound for the mines,” she finishes.

Annoyance is all it takes to be expelled? So, if Harbi doesn’t like the way I walk, or the way I dress, then it’s goodbye?

I scowl at her, my stomach clenching into even tighter knots than the ones I’d been forced to carry. If my future paths were dashed this morning by Kieran and his games, then they are buried now that night has fallen, and I’m not sure I have the strength to resurrect them.

Harbi nods to Astrid. “Since it seems not one but two of my students are sticking their necks out for you, then I’m assigning you to Kieran’s squad. You’ll be under him, Astrid, and Evie Fortescue.”

I blanch, feeling the last ounces of blood drain down to my toes. Me… and Evie?

Sure. That’s going to end well. She’ll kill me the first chance she gets, and my gut tells me Harbi won’t care.

Harbi watches me process her ultimatums before reaching into the pocket of her dress. From it, she draws out a small rectangular pad. She lifts the lid, revealing fabric soaked with blue ink.

Me and Evie. Me and Kieran.

Without looking at Astrid, I press the stamp against the ink pad, watching blue seep into the carved dragon sigil. The letter trembles beneath my fingers as I bring the stamp down—sealing my fate.

I’m in. No matter what happens. Now there’s no going back.

Thirty-Eight

Kieran

Ican’t bring myself to move yet.

Not when the molecules of air have turned as heavy as lead in my lungs and I’m sinking through stone. Nothing adds weight to a body faster than guilt. Shame does an equal job but guilt is a weapon of its own.

It accomplishes miracles and needs no man’s hand to wield.

Shame is certainly better than my dragon ejecting me from this overlook and watching me scream my way to a terrible death. Or maybe it’s not. Shame is insidious and small as it carves inroads in your psyche. You barely realize it’s damaging until you look back at yourself and see there are empty places.

By then, you can’t remember what you’ve lost, only feel the absence like phantom limbs.

Your struggle is noted. Even though you’re young, it’s no excuse to act irrational, not when the stakes are high, Mozi reminds me.

He arches his neck against the wind.

Ether take me if I have to listen to more of his lectures. He cranes his face into the wind as the first droplets of moisture slap my overheated skin. The first wave of rain brushes softly, then drives home with every passing second.

Mozi flicks his wings without looking at me but he isn’t leaving yet. He’s waiting for something, his tail flicking faster than an agitated cat, ready for me to reach the inevitable conclusion he’s already found.

I’m too slow to do it.

You don’t have to stick around and watch me. I hunch against the rain but I’m not willing to go inside yet.