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His cloud familiar vibrated with anger, and she refused to stop. It took Leap an hour to convince her to take him back, and when they finally returned, she would only dip low enough to allow him to see what was going on from a safe distance.
Ignoring the pain radiating through his chest and back, Leap pulled his goggles down, then adjusted them so he could zoom in. The recruits had returned from their march, and were running around the camp, putting out fires and cleaning up debris. But there was no sign of the griffin riders, the other students, or Mavlyn. Heart pounding, he summoned a wind current and sent it down to sweep through the training camp, collecting the conversations and bringing them back to his ears.
“Those blasted kids!” someone seethed, his rage so potent that the hair on Leap’s arms stood straight up. “They’ve destroyed our rations!”
“We should punish them,” another soldier growled. “I saw which way their tracks went—they can’t be more than an hour north, faster if we took the horses.”
“No,” said the third soldier, this one sounding older and gruffer than the rest. “We have more important problems to solve now. Besides, the griffin riders captured their leader. She’ll be taken to Lady Mossi and put on trial for her crimes.”
Leap’s stomach turned leaden. He wanted to believe they weren’t talking about Mavlyn, that one of the others had been captured instead. But even if it hadn’t been her, one of their number had been taken, and if he didn’t do something, they were going to be executed.
“Please,” he pleaded to Cirra. “Take us north. We have to find the others.”
28
Mavlyn
Mavlyn groaned as she returned to consciousness. Her ribs ached, her head pounded, and something sharp and uncomfortable poked at her through her shirt, making her skin itch. Cracking open her eyes, she found herself staring at a dark stone ceiling illuminated by the thin sliver of daylight filtering into the room.
It took her several minutes to find the strength to push herself up to a sitting position so she could look around. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, allowing her to see the room more clearly. She was in a bare bones prison cell, the only comforts within the moldy straw that had been poking into her back, the chamber pot in the corner, and the narrow, rectangular window set into the top of the rear wall, thin and high enough that there was no chance she could use it to escape.
Her memories came rushing back to her then—the military camp, setting fire to the food stores, running from the griffin riders. Leap had been busy fighting off two of them, and she’d held off the other two so the students could escape. She’d used her vines to lash out at the griffins and block the soldiers’ arrow strikes, but the two riders had overpowered her, knocking her to the ground with a well-placed kick from one of the griffins.
“That strike should have killed me,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her tender skull. They must have gotten her back to the castle and to the healers at lightning speed. But why bother treating her, if Lady Mossi was going to have her executed anyway?
She was just wondering if they would bring her any food or water when the prison door opened and a soldier walked in. Mavlyn’s eyes narrowed—she recognized the male as the one of the griffin riders who had captured her. He was tall, with orange hair and green eyes, with the same light, compact build all riders were required to have. Even so, he made himself look plenty intimidating as he came to a stop outside her cell.
“Good,” he said gruffly, surveying Mavlyn through the bars. “You’re awake.”
“By some miracle, yes,” Mavlyn groused. She pushed herself to her feet and walked over until they stood a scant few inches away from each other. “It’s a good thing you confiscated my seed pouches, or I’d be throttling you through these bars right now.”
The rider gave her a withering stare. “I should cut you down where you stand.”
“Why don’t you?” Mavlyn challenged. She wasn’t sure what was pushing her to be so reckless, but something feral had awoken inside her. The exact fate she’d been so fearful of when she’d returned to Domhain was playing out, and now that she was in it, she had nothing to lose. She might as well give these bastards as much hell as she could before they killed her.
“Because we’re not barbarians,” he growled. “Even war criminals deserve the right to a trial.”
“Do we deserve food and water, too?” Mavlyn crossed her arms over her chest. “Because if you don’t give me any, I might perish before the trial can even begin.”
The two stared at each other for a long moment, hatred sizzling in the air between them. “I’ll have it brought to you,” he finally said through gritted teeth, “but first, you need to answer some questions.”
He opened the cell door, and two prison guards entered the cell, one holding handcuffs. Once secured, they escorted her out of the dungeons and into a small, dingy room with only a metal table and two chairs. She thought the griffin rider would come in, but he left her chained up in there for an interminable length of time, forced to sit in that hard chair with nothing to drink or even a chamber pot to piss in.
By the time he wandered in, carrying a glass of water, she was fuming.
“Sorry for the delay,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. He set the glass of water on the table, which she snapped up and promptly drained.
“Is it normal for soldiers to apologize to hardened criminals?” She considered chucking it at his head, but knew the punishment she would get for that would outweigh the very temporary satisfaction she would get.
“No, but that’s the thing I can’t wrap my head around.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her over steepled fingers. “You’re not a hardened criminal, Mavlyn. You’re a bright young girl from a small village who, by all accounts, has never stepped out of line her entire life. I spoke to Talamh University’s Dean of Students—she said your test results were impressive, and that in your interview, you seemed enthusiastic about learning to use your talents to impress others. And to top it off, you’re a distant relative of Lady Mossi herself.” He leaned forward. “How does someone like you go from all that to being a war criminal in the span of a few weeks?”
“Some things are more important than university grades and pristine records,” Mavlyn said. “Like opposing a war being fought for nefarious reasons.”
His lip curled. “And what nefarious reasons would those be? Your silly story about Lady Mossi’s granddaughter being controlled by a Shadow? I read that article in the paper, and I’d love to know who is feeding you such lies.”
“Lies?” Mavlyn said. She was thankful she’d hidden her hands under the table so the officer couldn’t see her fists clenching and unclenching in her lap. “Are you really telling me you haven’t noticed anything strange about Lady Gelsyne?”
The rider’s eyes flickered. “It’s not my place to comment on the behavior of my betters, especially to a criminal like you.”
