Page 16

I grin. Even bad-tempered, Jared is fun to be around. But Jared’s speech about knowing me so long reminds me of the look Cassius threw Summer. I scan the forty runners resting in the shade and find the other two riders talking close to Summer and his flight.

“Cassius.” I beckon him over.

“How do you know Summer?” I ask once he reaches us. He looks taken aback.

“I … I mean, we grew up together, sir.”

“Is he a safety hazard?” I ask the question that has bugged me for a while now.

“No, sir.” His answer is immediate and truthful.

“That is all. Thank you, Cassius.” He nods and leaves.

“What was that about?” Jared asks.

“I told you Summer is behaving oddly. Now, I know he is not a safety risk, or at least Cassius doesn’t seem to think so.”

“You’re turning paranoid,” Jared comments.

“I got things left to do before I go,” I answer.

“What Mom said the other night—” Jared starts.

“Leave it,” I snap. When Jared opens his mouth again, I shake my head. “I mean it, Jared. Leave it,” I say softer now. He grinds his teeth but stays quiet.

It’s already late into the next day by the time we make our final camp. Quizzing our runners throughout the march showed that some are ahead, clearly prepared by their parents or instructors before coming to the Aerie. Others seem clueless and will have to make up for it.

Everyone is tired from the long walk. Some even look ready to topple over, and their heavy packs are not helping.

Once again, Summer sticks out of the crowd. He’s not fidgeting, and while he looks as beat as the others, he’s smiling and joking with Ilario instead of grumbling and brooding or falling asleep sitting up.

I’m not the only one watching him. Cassius sits a few places to my right, and his gaze is also fixed on the two.

“Okay, everyone.” I clap my hands. “I know you’re tired and hungry and ready to drop, but during Picking, you will have to provide for yourself with the things you find out here. Gather into your flights, please.” They do, and their squadron leaders take charge.

“Who is well-versed in edible plants?” A few hands are raised at my question. “Well, enough not to poison us by accident?” A few laugh at that question, but we soon establish that the two flights of squadron five are up for the job.

One flight of squadron four is going fishing, and the other one will look for game. The squadron leaders head out with them.

Jared and I stay back at the camp.

“You’re heartless to make them look for food now. They’re ready to collapse.” Jared grins and shakes his head. “We could have used provisions tonight.”

“Why didn’t you take on a leadership position? Then you could have coddled them.” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Nah, if I would’ve wanted power or responsibility, I’d have made you keep your position and make me an adviser or something,” Jared drawls.

I snort out a laugh. “Yeah, right.” I don’t know what’s funnier, envisioning him in such a position or thinking he could have somehow made me stay. He grins at me.

“I’m not interested in authority or responsibility, you know that. So I stick with what I do best, let you shoulder the burden while I throw in my five copper whenever I feel like it,” he says.

“I don’t know.” I look at him thoughtfully. “You showed excellent leading qualities while you talked me into at least half the shit we did as kids. I don’t know how I earned that nickname from Nan instead of you,” I tease.

He snorts out a laugh. “You caused even more trouble on your own before they let me join you in those boring functions.” He grins.

“I just knew how to play it right.” We both laugh at that.

When Summer’s flight gets back from the stream, the tension between him and Cassius is nearly visible. Summer is no longer smiling but stomps around, growling like someone insulted his mother or something, and Cassius is in a huff too.

“Cassius, get over here,” I call.

“Centurion.” He stops in front of me, his brows drawn, his muscles tight with tension.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Nothing, Centurion.” The denial is so dissonant it hurts my ears.

I raise my brows. “Don’t insult my intelligence here. You couldn’t be more obvious if you waved a red flag.”

He huffs. “Summer pulled some risky moves over at the stream. I called him out for it.”

Truth.

“It can be hard to command someone you’ve known since childhood,” I say, curious if he will open up. Cassius takes a deep breath, and when he releases it, some of the tension leaves his body.

“I don’t like it when … people take unnecessary risks,” he mutters.

“You’re worried about him?”

“Not for safety reasons. I meant what I said yesterday,” he says. “But … he just seems too … young to be here,” Cassius says, and I nod in understanding. But this dispute could bite us in the ass later and cause serious trouble.

“That’s all?” I ask.

He nods.

“Fine then. But if I have the feeling this causes trouble, I will reassign Summer to Flavius’s squadron. Do you understand?”

Cassius nods, his face grim.

“That won’t be necessary, Centurion.”

It’s nearly noon the following day when everything goes to shit. It starts when squadron four reports a runner missing. He was the last on guard duty and can’t be found when it’s time for shift change.

I don’t know him well enough to know how serious he would have been about his job.

They are still recruits after all. Maybe he just wandered off or even decided that the skyriders weren’t for him.

If someone considered deserting, now would be their best chance.

Still, the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach stays.

Jared is looking for him with Zephyr because there is also the possibility that an animal attacked him. We didn’t hear any commotion, but the mountains are home to a variety of wild animals—some magical, some not—and it wouldn’t be the first time one attacked a lone person.

A few others are out gathering firewood and some roots and herbs to complement the game that is up for lunch, while a runner from squadron four volunteers to cook.

“We’re under attack.”

Daeva’s warning and her screech reach me at the same time, only seconds before the first attacker breaks through the wood around us. The heavy forest around us served them well and hid them from our birds’ eyes.

Still, there is no mist and no bridgepoint close enough to surprise us that close to the Aerie without a patrol spotting them first. They must have used a portal.

All of our attackers are fair-skinned, their armor dark and mismatched, missing any signs of recognition, and apart from the sound of their bodies breaking through bushes, their attack is silent. It reminds me of another place, another attack in the woods.

The memories are so real that for a second, I hear the shouts of “Protect the heir” reverberate across the clearing. I shake my head to clear it.

Memories, nothing but memories . I blink, and slowly, the images playing in front of my eyes fade.

“We’re under attack,” I shout, repeating Daeva’s words, then rush to intercept the closest attacker, who moves toward the runner standing next to the pot with water hanging over the flames.

The runner only has the knife he used to prepare the food to defend himself, and he will be at a serious disadvantage against the sword his opponent swings.

He proves my assumption wrong by grabbing the pot and dosing his attacker with boiling water, splashing the fire in the process. When he follows through with his knife, I realize he doesn’t need me.

I don’t have time to look for who else might need help because two attackers are zeroing in on me. Okay, now there are three. This is one of the moments I’m happy I’m fighting with two short swords and that I have magic to wield as well.

Air gathers under my command, protecting my back, no more visible than a ripple in the air, but it will prevent anyone from stabbing me from behind.

One of the attackers makes a guttural sound that I take for a curse when he realizes that his blade is deflected by my shield without doing harm. The distinct sound of steel against steel rings over the clearing.

Worrying about Jared and how our recruits are holding up lets me slip into Daeva’s view for a second.

She is right, though, with her complaints earlier.

The visibility is shit from up here. Dark shapes flash between the foliage, often too short to make out friend or foe, and the missing overview makes it impossible to get a count on the attackers or a take on the situation.

“ I will come down.” Daeva sounds determined.

“ You will do no such thing,” I disagree. An arrow slides off the air protecting me. “Someone is shooting, too. You stay up there as long as I’m not in danger.”

“ Three against one sounds dangerous to me,” she snaps but obeys. I bury my blade in the throat of the one to my right.

“ Only two now,” I correct her.

“ I can see that for myself,” she grumbles, using my eyes to keep track of the situation down here.

The third attacker takes the place of his fallen companion.

He is abnormally fast. Maybe he has magic enhancing his speed.

Fighting fair is for tournaments or sparring, so I simply cut off his air supply.

He chokes, then stumbles. His fingers claw at his throat, but he won’t find anything tangible there.

“To your left,” Daeva snaps, and I block the sword coming down.

My attacker comes at me hard, doubling his efforts of cutting me down.

I feint a weakness in my defense, hoping he will go for it.

When he does, I use the opening it creates, and he scrambles back to evade my strike, aiming at his shoulder.

I make him stumble by solidifying the air around his feet and while he is off balance cut his throat without hesitation.

One look confirms that the attacker I suffocated with my magic isn’t moving anymore, and I release my hold.

Two more men are rushing me. The three bodies littering the ground probably drew their attention. A big shape dives down, snatching up one of them, and his cries fade into nothing.

“ I told you to stay up there, ” I grumble.

“ Can’t let you have all the fun.” A screech accompanies her words, sounding victorious. I chuckle. My opponent takes a step back and seems unnerved. I watch him contemplating. Maybe I’ll be able to get information out of him.

His gaze darts around, and I do the same, taking in the change.

There are numerous people on the ground, but only a few in gray.

All the riders are engaged in sword fights.

Some runners have assembled into groups, and we have the upper hand now.

Jared eyes meet mine over the clearing a vicious smile on his face, while he tugs his sword free, the man who faced him sinking to his knees.

I tackle the man in front of me to the ground, and send his sword flying with my gift.

“Who sent you?” I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wide. “Easssy tarrrget, they sssaid…” He sounds incredulous. He rolls his r, and his s is more of a hissing sound.

He is not from Belarra but could be from the Ice Coast. I curl my hand, the air mimicking my gesture around his throat, letting him feel the pressure without harming him … yet. His eyes meet mine. “Brrring you back alive …”

Not again.

White-hot fury burns through me, and I end his life before he can say another word. Those words only make sense if he knows who I am. Therefore, questioning him is off the table.