Page 63 of Wings of Destruction

It takes me a costly second to realize he’s talking to me although his attention remains pinned on Harbi.

My retort is right there and ready to be flung out. No doubt it will land accurately and infuriate my cousin exactly the way I want it to. He’s easy enough to rile.

It will be a waste to let it simply die without speaking it out loud. But Harbi’s insistent scowl silences me before I make a complete fool of myself and I fall into line beside Tristan. I clasp my hands behind my back, our shoulders touching.

Despite the warm late summer weather outside, Harbi has a fire crackling merrily in the hearth at my back and the flames burrow into my skin. Sweat slicks in places where it has no business slicking and if I’m not careful, I’ll get overheated and puke.

Not exactly the image I need to present.

My first debriefing and half of me figures Tristan did it to take me by surprise. Pulling me out of sparring class? What’s Harbi’s angle?

It shows Tristan is not truly in control of these sessions.

And I don’t want any more surprises like what happened in Professor Clark’s class.

We wait until Harbi adjusts herself, the only one of us sitting, with her palms up and open on her knees. Her staff rests against the arm of the wingback chair.

“My obligation is to the school and its students and mounts,” she reminds Tristan. “Whatever you have to say, make it brief. My professors only have a short measure of time before they’re needed back in class.”

Tristan’s handsome features twist in a disparaging grin at her admonition. “General Ryson is the one who dictates these debriefings, Headmistress. With all due respect.”

Sure, right. All due respect.

No one believes a word falling out of his mouth even if Tristan tries to gild it with gold.

Harbi scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Oh, absolutely.”

Condescension drips from every syllable.

I tamp back on my own grin. Harbi just rose a few notches in my esteem. It counts for a lot. Then my awareness deepens, the intensity of my thoughts sharpening and expanding.

Pay close attention to whatever it is your cousin has to say. I have a feeling it’s going to be important, Mozi says.

There really is no need to keep reminding me. I get it. I’m not as thick headed as you think I am.

He hisses out a chuckle. You are exactly as thick headed if I feel the need to remind you.

I school my features into familiar apathy, one of my most treasured skills, while Tristan clears his throat and puffs his chest out like he’s the most important person in this room. For these purposes, he may be.

“General Ryson has captured another town,” Tristan begins. “Fallkirk was the beginning. Onassis has fallen but the spread of the insurrection is greater than we thought. He’s moved on to Duenden.”

My stomach sours. “Captured”—what a pretty word for slaughter.

“Was there any particular reason to target Duenden?” Harbi asks in a controlled tone.

Tristan clasps his hands together behind his back to mimic me. “Of course. We caught rumors that the town harbored the leader of the hydra packs. We were correct. We targeted the area and found him, effectively squashing his resistance attempt before it launched. It’s a massive coup for our cause.”

I stiffen and although Harbi’s gaze dips to me, I doubt she catches the slight movement.

There it is, out in the open, and no one is surprised. The real reason for all the attacks on these seemingly random towns. It isn’t merely to target those who verbalize disgust with the increased taxes.

One by one, the strongholds are falling. A systematic dismantling of every power that isn’t dragon. It’s part of a long-term strategy of destabilization in the kingdom.

I hadn’t thought he was so close to finding the hydra leader.

A majority of hydras joined Ryson’s cause but not enough. I’ve heard him say it countless times when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.

Fallkirk went down because of the unicorns.