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“We can help you make up the classes you’ll miss,” Mariel joins in. Every runner in the room nods in agreement, and my throat closes up. They are unbelievable.

The following morning starts early for me, and while the time is nothing new, the amount of training I undergo by the time we stand in formation is staggering. I’m ready to go back to bed.

My flight surrounds me while we attend Gorgon’s funeral, a friendly barrier against all the hostile stares. If I had any doubt left about his father’s position, it’s moot now. The funeral for Gorgon is far more elaborate than anything we have had so far.

It is definitely more than just saying a few words and giving us time to slip into the temple between formation and the start of classes.

Even the start of classes has been delayed for half an hour, and they expect us all to attend. I stay in the back of the temple, far from anyone close to him, like Livia.

I’m still not sure how to feel about Gorgon’s death. It’s not like we were friends or he was a likable person at all, but was it my fault? Am I to blame for his death?

Livia stands in front, right next to Gorgon’s decorated body. Tears keep pouring down her face, and she sniffles. I have seen her and Gorgon together, but I didn’t know it had been that serious between them.

When she catches me watching, she glares at me. I huff out a breath.

At least I tried to do something.

Livia’s glare drew attention, and quite a few unfriendly stares are aimed my way now, most of them from runners and riders of the eastern division.

It’s not like I’ve seen them rushing to his help. I didn’t intentionally harm him. They have to realize that at some point, right?

“Ignore them,” Mariel whispers from my right.

My gaze wanders back to Livia. An older man in a rider uniform follows her gaze, landing on me.

He leans over to her, and they exchange words.

His gaze hardens, and his jaw tenses. Whatever she said seems to have gained me another person who isn’t fond of me.

“Who is next to Livia?” I lean to my left and into Calix to get his attention. His gaze searches the crowd until he finds the one I’m talking about. He exhales.

“You mean the one glaring at you?” he asks.

“Probably.” I keep my gaze averted, trying not to be too obvious.

“That would be the deputy commander, Gorgon’s dad,” Calix whispers.

“I’m officially garnering enemies in executive positions.” I sigh.

“Yes, you have a polarizing effect on people. Maybe it would be good to keep your head down for a while?” he suggests.

“That’s what I was doing all along,” I grumble.

“I hate to tell you, but you’re not doing a very good job of it,” he answers.

No, it doesn’t seem like I am.

Joel is still angry with me. I don’t blame him, but I don’t feel bad for what I did, either—despite the consequences.

Mariel is still alive, after all. She expresses her gratitude by being practically glued to my side whenever I’m around.

With the extra training, keeping up with classes, and everything else that shifted in my daily routine, it’s hard to find time to keep up my research, but not being in his squadron makes it easier to evade Joel.

Yes, we are back to that.

Oh, I’m aware that he tries to catch me by myself. I’m also aware that he will probably shout at me and start planning to smuggle me out again. It’s just easier to avoid him altogether.

I slump down into the soft cushions of the well-used armchair and just sit there for a moment, enjoying the quiet of the library.

It’s only been two days since I joined the riders of the beak flight of the first squadron, and I’m already exhausted.

I was paired with one of the female riders, Zaza, and she took me on a training flight today.

It was only a couple of hours, but my back and thighs made themselves known.

I have no idea how I’ll survive being on a bird for the better part of a week soon.

I open the book I retrieved from its hiding place and continue reading where I left off. The fable is dark, all doom and gloom just like all the others. It’s about a cursed girl who leaves her village to find someone to teach her. But one sentence catches my attention.

And while she grows into her power, magic etches patterns into her skin.

It’s the first mention of markings on a cursed one, but the story ends in death and destruction, like always.

Even if I try not to, it’s starting to trouble me. Is it her curse that taints her? Is it the master she chose? Is it her revenge? Is the story only designed to scare, or is there truth to it?

I haven’t found any mention of a time when cursed ones weren’t hunted, either.

Calix is already teasing me about all the history books I check out.

I keep the more obvious ones hidden behind other books until I’m done reading instead of checking them out.

It's not the only thing I’ll get in trouble for if I’m caught.

I look guiltily at the honey cookies I smuggled in, sitting next to a flask of hot tea.

I pick up my steaming mug and take a sip.

The library is quite chilly, and I’m thankful for the warmth.

I dive into the next story. It’s about a cursed man hunted down by the king's men for killing innocents. I sigh.

Why do we have to be the bad guys in all of them?

A throat clears, and I know who it is even before I look up. Tate leans against the bookcase opposite the armchair I’m curled up in. His gaze is on the cookies and the steaming mug of tea in my hand.

“You look comfortable. Do you plan to stay longer?” he asks.

I nod toward the cookies.

“Want one? I charmed them off the kitchen staff.” To my surprise, he comes over and settles down in the chair next to me but declines the cookie.

I scan the titles in his hand. They are all about the Ice Coast again.

So he’s still researching the Tracers. I want to ask him about it, want to know why he had a pair of them with him the last time I met him here, but I don’t.

I want him to stay, so I go back to my story and smile to myself when I hear him rustling through his books next to me.

We stay like that, both reading in comfortable silence.

I only realize the warmth once I step out of the little nook, the cool air pebbling my skin.

I look back at Tate, but he doesn’t look up. I spot a slight glimmer in the air around the armchairs.

He must have a gift for air.

Knowing he shared his warmth with me ignites a glow inside me.

The same repeats the following evening. We spend it in comfortable silence.

Not exchanging a word, just smiling and nodding at each other as a way of greeting.

No questions asked even though I see his curious looks, and I’m sure he notices mine.

It’s like both of us know the other might bolt if pushed.

The evening after that, I find a blanket on the armchair I normally use, which makes it cozy even though Tate doesn’t show up.

Guilt coils in my gut at his thoughtfulness, knowing I won’t be here tomorrow because I’ll meet Sloan despite everything Tate did to keep me out of trouble.

Not going just isn’t an option. If my letters stop coming, at least one of my brothers will come down to check on me, and I can’t have that.