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“That was some impressive climbing.” The female skyrider steps up to me, her eyes wandering over my braided hair, leather armor, daggers, and down to my soft boots. “Ever thought of joining the skyriders?” she asks.

My eyes dance over the markings on the skyriders’ arms. That … is actually … a brilliant idea. While gifts are mostly hereditary, skyriders receive a gift when bonding their birds, whether they previously possessed magic or not.

“Don’t put such thoughts into her head, rider. My sister comes up with enough nonsense on her own.” Dar turns to me. “That is a no to that thought.”

“I didn’t say anything,” I protest.

“I know you well enough, so no!” He shakes his head, then embraces Ben. “How far along are the preparations for tonight? And where is Ian?”

Ben answers while I watch the stablehands relieve the birds of their harnesses, breastplates, and chanfrons.

Dar is right; the suggestion keeps playing through my mind.

“You can go over if you want to,” the female skyrider offers and pushes a strand of dark hair out of her face. My gaze catches on the markings running down her arm to the back of her hand.

Would it work for me, too?

Then I notice the markings on everyone around me. Gifted people surround me, and I forgot my gloves. Great.

I place my hands behind my back.

“I would love to,” I answer the rider’s question, and she accompanies me over to one of the Rukhs, who bends down to greet her. She lovingly runs her hand over its beak.

“This is Neven, my Rukh. Rukh and Strix are the most common and most approachable of the birds. As long as you treat them with respect, you’ll be fine.” She smiles at me.

“He’s beautiful,” I whisper. So close, the Rukh looks even more majestic and more than a little intimidating, his intelligent blue eyes fixed on me.

I approach cautiously and only dare to run my hand along Neven’s chest after his rider nods encouragingly.

The feathers are sleek and far softer than I ever thought possible on such a fierce-looking creature.

I keep the contact short when something inside me reacts to the Rukh’s magic.

“How long do skyriders train?” I ask the question that has bugged me since her first comment.

“Only two years, as all candidates come already trained in combat.” My chest becomes heavy. I don’t have two years.

“And you bond with your birds at the end of that?” I fight hard to keep the disappointment out of my voice. I really hoped for it to be an option.

“Gods no.” She laughs. “Picking is after three months.” I perk up.

Three months could work.

“Do skyriders start in winter?” I ask. “Like infantry?” The woman throws a cautious look in my brother’s direction, but he’s talking to Ian.

“Yes, Assessment is two weeks earlier, which gives the ones who don’t make it the chance to join the infantry instead.”

Maybe that is where the rivalry comes from. I grin to myself, suddenly feeling giddy. Maybe if I talk to Dar and Ian and explain the situation…

“Are there many women in the skyriders ranks?”

The woman snorts at that.

“No, only one or two out of ten recruits are female. That’s why I mentioned it earlier.” Her gaze flies to my brother again, and she falls quiet when she sees him watching us with narrowed eyes. Thankfully, his wife, Elena, and my niece come flying through the front door, drawing Dar’s attention.

“Thank you for letting me meet Neven.” I smile at the bird and its rider before taking my leave and heading to the infirmary.

Giving my mother what she wants is an excellent excuse to get out from under my brother’s watchful eyes.

The infirmary is at ground level and easily accessible from the courtyard. I hurry past a group of soldiers on horseback, getting ready to head out. The horses dance around, nervous because of the three huge birds launching into the air.

The soldiers are probably going to help with the preparation for the equinox festivities down in the village.

The voices, bellowed commands, and clacking of hooves on paved ground fall away as soon as I close the door behind me.

The scent of herbs permeates the air, and the soft murmur of my mother’s voice guides me to the back room, the one she uses to prepare medicine.

I find her and my brother with their heads bent over a big leather-bound book, probably working on improving the recipe of some salve or whatever else is cooking over the fire.

“Mom, you wanted to see me,” I say by way of greeting, but they keep on talking. I tap my fingers on the wooden worktable, waiting. They’ll ignore me until they finish, so I save my breath.

My eyes wander over the drying bundles of herbs and the meticulously neat workspace around me and end on the copper cauldron hanging over a flickering violet flame. Magic flames are more efficient since they need much less fuel and burn without sooting.

“Tamara.” My mom turns and smiles at me. “Perfect. I need to take your measurements. It’s only half a year until your birthday, and I want a whole new wardrobe for you by then.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing now?” I ask, and my mother laughs.

“No, none of your dresses will do when you are in Avina, and I will not send my daughter off to court wearing fashion from ten years ago.”

“Mom, we talked about that. We don’t think—”

My mom cuts off Luc’s quiet objection with a wave of her hand.

“Wait, you have been talking about me and didn’t think I should have been present for that?” I ask.

“Your brothers are just being ridiculous. We’re not going back on our promise.

Tamara will marry Frederick, and that is that,” she states.

My stomach sinks, my thoughts returning to the marking on my skin.

There is no way I can head off to court if I develop markings without having any magic.

And what if the markings of a cursed one don’t look like those of a gifted one?

Are they linked to anything else? I think of the way I sense magic now and become a little faint.

I’m not looking forward to marrying a stranger, but disappointing my family would be much worse.

“Go over to room two and get out of that ghastly armor,” my mother demands, and I do as asked.

I’m in my tunic and pants while she takes measurements. She runs the measuring tape down my arm and rubs over the still tender skin on my elbow during the process. I wince, and of course she notices.

“Did you hurt yourself during training? Let me see.” Mom reaches for my sleeve, and I pull my arm away.

“I’m fine, Mom. It’s just a scratch, and I’m quite adept at tending to my wounds by now, thank you.”

“Are you still prickly that we didn’t ask you to join us?” she asks.

“What do you think? Would you like it if we discussed your future without informing you?”

“It was by no means a planned meeting. Your brothers ambushed me… They think it isn’t safe for you to be at court, but I think once your intended cares, there will be no place safer.”

I have to tell her.

“But, Mom—”

“Don’t start,” she snaps. “This is important … for you … for us. If we pull out of this arrangement, there will be questions. With questions comes attention, and I hope I don’t have to explain it.

That is the last thing we want.” Her chest heaves, and she turns away to note down the last measurements with angry strokes.

“Simply do what you are told for once. Now go change, and I want to see you in a dress for the festivities.”

“Yes, Mom,” I sigh. I can’t disappoint her. I have to make this work, and the only thing I can think of so far is to become a skyrider.

The wind starts picking up when I leave the infirmary and head back to my room to change. I look up at the fast-moving clouds. A storm is moving in.

Two guards hurry by, ignoring me, but otherwise, the courtyard is empty and quiet, a strange sight since someone is usually always around.

Four riders pass through the gate. I don’t recognize them, but their uniform declares them part of my brother’s forces. One of them spots me and shouts something, but the wind sweeps his words away before they reach me.

The horses’ chests and flanks heave, their coats are slick with sweat, and steam rolls off their bodies.

Someone was in a hurry to get here. Poor horses.

The man who spotted me is marching in my direction now. He seems to be about Dar’s age and not much taller than me. His dark hair is short, and his face is in a scowl. He is broad-shouldered and fit like all the men here.

“Didn’t you hear me, boy? Our horses need to be tended to,” he snaps before his gaze travels down my body. He draws to a stop, realizing his mistake.

Maybe it’s my angular face or that nobody expects to see women in leather, but it’s not the first time someone mistook me for one of the stable boys. Not that I’m dressed like them.

I smirk while his slanted eyebrows relax, then wander up in surprise.

“Are there female soldiers in the army now?” the man asks playfully. Why are they all asking that today? The way I dress doesn’t even come close to their uniform.

“Not that I know of.” I smile.

“Well, that’s a damn shame.” His gaze wanders over my body again. “They would look much prettier in our uniforms than we do.”

I laugh. “Thanks for the compliment.”

“Who said I was complimenting you?” He sends me a wicked grin.

“Your eyes.” I wink at him and earn a rumbling laugh. “Come on, I’ll show you the way to the stables. I have no idea where everyone has gotten to.”

They follow me to the stables, and I enjoy the distraction.

“Don’t get them into trouble, lass,” our gray-haired stable master admonishes me as soon as we step through the door, and I roll my eyes at him.

“Damn, and here I was thinking about dragging them right off into the hay,” I say dryly. That earns me five sets of round eyes, making me laugh.

“Ara.” The growl comes from the stall next to me. A moment later, my brother Ian appears at the door. He doesn’t look happy.

I roll my eyes at him. “Relax, I’m just kidding.”