Page 20 of Wings of Destruction

“Do you see? You left me no choice but to intercede. You were holding yourself back.”

The accusation lands true. I was holding myself back. It’s part of the reason why silence is my only recourse. The General will soon tire of the one-sided conversation, once he’s spent his frustration and found me a willing subject. We’ve been through these motions more times than I can begin to count.

Ryson rests his scarred hand on the glistening gem at the pommel of his sword and stares me down. The heat of his attention burns a circular hole at the top of my head, forcing me to at last raise my gaze to meet his. His shaggy eyebrows are drawn together and his face a picture of how I’ll look when I reach middle age.

I hate him.

I respect him.

It’s a terrible combination especially when begrudging love is in there, somewhere. It’s a love he doesn’t deserve.

“There is no going back to the way things were. We must do what we can to chart a new course for Manifest. We have a monarchy to protect.”

He’s too far away to grab me, but I feel his fingers regardless, finding the weak spots in my aching muscles and digging deeper.

I stare in my father’s eyes, and my throat closes a little further. “This is not just about our namesake and reputation, but for the good of the entire kingdom.”

His attention drops to the land below, and Omram releases a dull growl, caught between his teeth. A low roll of thunder rolls in the distance. Rain will follow, and I prepare for the first cold bite of water, wincing against it.

“You will be on cleanup duty,” he tells me with a certain degree of relish, his black eyes glowing. “A punishment, my son, for not killing enough unicorns.”

“What did you want me to do?” I blurt out, anger getting the better of me. “Personally slaughter every single unicorn?”

“Why not?” He shrugs, unbothered. “I did.”

“You were on the back of your dragon.”

My body screams from the effort of keeping my words contained, like bile, churning and burning and clawing to escape my throat and into my mouth.

“There are more traitors to the crown out there.” Ryson peels his gaze from the ground and shoots it at me.

There is only disappointment, resignation, and contempt in this gaze. Somehow, it’s much worse than his anger. I know what happens when Ryson gets angry, although he is a cool and freezing snow compared to Omram’s blistering inferno.

My father’s wrath waits for the perfect moment to chill you to the bone, and somehow, today, I’m not able to brace hard enough for it.

I pull Mozi away from Ryson and his dragon.

“Find them. Kill them if they fight you but take them prisoner if you can. It will serve a twofold purpose.”

“Which is?” I bite.

“It will show any other village considering revolt what happens to those left alive. Death is a mercy compared to what we will do with those punished with their life. It is not sparing them, it’s damning them. They will yield to the kingdom, or they will suffer.”

I can’t look at him anymore. I bite the inside of my lip and break eye contact first.

“I expect to see you actually do your duty this time,” Ryson calls out into the wind when I fly off.

That’s the only thing I do these days. Duty. Duty pelts me like a constant storm overhead and there is no escape.

Seems your father is in a good mood today, Mozi says in my head.

I grip him tighter. Charming man, isn’t he?

He’s always been a deadly sort. There is nothing soft about Roman Ryson and the only pleasure he gets is during these skirmishes.

I brace myself for Mozi landing and slip forward along his neck when he makes contact with the forest floor, his claws flexing and digging into the dirt.

Charming and ruthless. I’d like to say his attitude is dull and predictable but he continues to find ways to surprise me.