Page 76 of Wings of Destruction

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Sure. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“Drop it.”

The immediate stony reply would shut any normal person down before they stepped foot in that conversation.

Not Astrid. She only chuckles.

“Oh, boy, did I strike a nerve? What’s her name, anyway, the redhead? The one you brought here?”

Normally I don’t mind Astrid’s teasing. We’ve been through enough for the easy banter to roll off of me.

I keep the name to myself and my lips thin into a severe line.

“Wow, more than a nerve. She’s got you riled up.” Astrid chuffs out a laugh before she socks me in the jaw.

Stars dance in front of my eyes, pain ratcheting up my jaw and into my skull. But my wild swing catches her shoulder, and she winces, rolling it out.

“Like I said. Drop it.” The repetition only cements it for Astrid.

She tips her head back in a full laugh and dances back from my wild swings. I land one solid hit to her ribs before she recovers, making her grunt and reassess.

“You really like her! You care about her. I see through your dung, Kieran.”

If she sees it, then others might, too. The pain becomes a secondary annoyance to the chilling flicker of nerves.

It will make Morgan’s life so much worse if people see her importance.

“Lock it up, if you’re worried.” Astrid drops her arms to her side. “You know what happens to people⁠—”

“Yeah,” I interrupt sharply. “I get it.”

I lost my mother for that reason. People die when you care too much. They are the perfect pieces of leverage, dangled like a bribe, until even the strongest warrior caves. I won’t let it happen to anyone else.

Sixteen

Kieran

Astrid and I battered each other senseless, exactly the way I expected and needed. Alone in the cave, the two of us, gives me the chance to work out my aggression.

It doesn’t stop my mind from whirring.

Every grind of knuckles, every blossoming bruise, disintegrates a knot of worry.

Astrid slings her arm over my shoulder and drags me into her with a groan. “When are you going to learn to keep your head in a fight?”

I push her away, an eyebrow rising. “I held my own tonight. For the pressure I’m under? I could really fall apart.”

“Please.” Her scoff is a thing of beauty. “You might be able to fool others but not me. They won’t look too closely at you.”

She backs up a few steps, still holding my gaze. “The shiny shield of the Great Kieran Ryson blinds them. I see past it. I see all the messy parts.”

It’s easier not to argue with her.

“Oh, by the way, I have a few hopefuls scouted. Think you’ll have time to meet with them in a few nights?”

“How many?”

“Two. Starting small. It’s a delicate vetting process.” Her lips thin.