Page 7

Chapter

Four

TATE

I stand in my room and glare daggers at my best friend.

I didn’t sleep well, and my scars sting and itch.

We got back late from Nan’s last night, and since we have no duties today, my plan was to get up, help set up the inner courtyard for Assessment, then spend my day in the air.

Now, Jared single-handedly let that plan fly out the window.

“Oh, come on, Tate,” my best friend pleads while I get dressed. “It’s not that bad.” I only glare at him.

Assessment is once a year, at the beginning of winter. On that day, all academies open their gates to anyone who wants to try their luck in becoming a skyrider—like we did three years ago.

Belarra’s natural borders are mountainous. Patrolling them on foot would be time-intensive and require a lot of staffing. But it is manageable from up in the air.

So it is our job as skyriders to keep the borders of our kingdom safe. Most of us are stationed in one of the four Aeries, and some are at the bigger outposts scattered along the border.

Becoming a skyrider is hard work, and for a good reason. The downside of getting easily where the infantry can’t follow is that we are often the first and only line of defense against the creatures spilling out of the mist until they get there.

I still scowl at Jared while following him out of my room, closing the door with more force than needed.

We walk down the corridor, our steps on stone echoing off the bare walls.

“Couldn’t you at least ask before signing me up for this?” I huff out a breath.

“Why? You would have said no.” Jared evades the elbow I aim at him and snickers.

“Guard duties instead of a free day,” I grumble. “What a hard choice,” I say sarcastically. “Just for the record, I’m pissed.”

“Aw, no. You love me too much to be pissed at me.” He widens his eyes comically, followed by a goofy grin. He’s right. I do love his crazy ass, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do my best to stay mad a little longer. I send him another glare.

“You may be my brother in everything but blood, but that doesn’t give you free rein over my time.” I’m actually closer to him than my brother and I will ever be, especially since I don’t plan to ever go back home.

“No, free rein is what you handed your brother, and I don’t envy him,” he teases.

“Good one.” I fight a smile. “Now shut up. I’m still mad at you.”

He chuckles while we continue our way down to the main gate.

That Jared became a skyrider is on me. The stubborn bastard is too loyal for his own good and simply refused to let me slide off the deep end after I left my old life behind. Since his stubbornness rivals three Night Ravens, I often give up pushing before he does.

He bumps my shoulder, and I glower at him before I hurry down the last set of steps and push open the small door that leads into the inner courtyard, the atrium.

“Oh, come on, Tate, lighten up already. It will be fun. We get to see all the candidates first and can earmark the ones we would like in our division,” he says as if it is the most obvious thing to do.

“Yeah, right.” I snort, drawing a few gazes from other riders.

“Why not? Not having to put up with the worst of them later is an appropriate compensation for standing at the main gate for hours, don’t you think?” Jared gives me a mischievous grin.

“Like they would let you handpick our runners.” I shake my head at him. Runners—the new recruits who can’t fly yet—will be distributed between the divisions, squadrons, and flights by drawing their numbers, trusting that the fates will have a hand in their selection.

Every Aerie has four divisions, named after the cardinal points.

The new runners will be split into flights of ten and will make up two squadrons in every division. After they pass Picking and bond a bird, they will fill up the flights here at the Aerie, while more seasoned riders will be sent off to supplement the borders.

That way, new riders can gather experience alongside more seasoned riders during patrols in their second year of training, after which they will graduate and enter full service.

We cross the atrium, which is seamlessly surrounded by buildings. This creates an easily defendable place for landing and takeoff since the big main gate is the only direct entrance from the outside.

Today, the space is separated into two main areas. Temporary barriers have been set up to help retain order once hundreds of candidates flood the space.

We greet other riders as we pass them. They are busy setting up targets and racks full of weapons and marking down areas for archery, swordplay, and hand-to-hand combat.

Jared is the one who draws the smiles, while the greeting I get is more reserved.

I’m not here to find friends. Coming here was a strategic decision.

I watch the riders bustling around us.

Once they finish setting up, they are free for the day unless they volunteer for additional duties. I give Jared another glare, but he ignores me.

“You are going to do all the talking, jotting down their names and handing out the numbers,” I grumble while we continue toward the gate.

“Deal. It’s better if I do the talking anyway. But try to rein in your charming personality, or you’ll scare them away.” He smirks.

I bare my teeth at him in a mocking smile. I don’t see the benefit in trying to play nice. My reputation will make them wary anyway.

“Yeah, you have to work on that,” Jared tells me, shaking his head.

“ If they annoy you, I’ll come over for a snack and abduct you when I leave,” Daeva tells me. Her version of she has my back.

“ I’m fine. Jared is here with me.”

“ Tell him I’ll slice him into tiny pieces and feed him to the chicks next time he changes plans without consulting us.” Bloody pictures accompany her words.

I chuckle. “Very creative.”

Her pleasure floods me. Daeva is a constant presence in my mind unless I consciously block her out.

“What did the menace threaten me with?” Jared asks, then holds up a hand. “No, wait, I don’t want to know. Zephyr wasn’t happy either, and he is not half as bloodthirsty as your bird.”

That is not surprising since Night Ravens use fear to establish their social standing.

We enter the short tunnel connecting the atrium with the outer courtyard and stop at the main gate.

The heavy and iron-enforced wooden door is closed, a rare sight that casts the tunnel into darkness.

It seems no one deemed it necessary to light the magic-fueled lights along the wall since it’s a sunny day.

I hear shuffling and muted voices from the other side of the door, where candidates are waiting for sign-up to start.

“Let’s get this over with,” I say, pulling back the gate’s heavy iron bar. I use my gift to open the door with a blast of air, but I overestimate the force needed, and the doors hit the stone walls with a bang.

“Show-off,” Jared mutters and grins before he faces the first in line, ready to take the candidate’s name.

Jared’s gift of Illusion leaves him with fewer chances to use it for everyday tasks than commanding air. Unlike me, he didn’t have a gift before bonding.

I lean against the wall, facing the unbelievably long line of mostly men ready to risk their lives for the slim chance of becoming a skyrider. Only to risk their life some more as soon as they are.

The coldness of the wall seeps through my clothes, another occasion when commanding air comes in handy.

Since Jared took over the tasks concerning sign-up, my only job is to make sure no one passes without entering their name first and to keep an eye out for trouble.

At least we don’t have to check the candidate’s age since Professor Myrsky wards the gate so no one can enter Assessment unless they are old enough.

Time creeps along slowly, and I shift my stance for what feels like the hundredth time.

We have been at it for hours, and the candidates still keep coming.

Daeva circles above and sends me her view of the line, the people no more than little dots.

It is getting shorter but only marginally, and it’s already close to noon.

I curse Jared under my breath, but he hears me and grins, keeping his eyes on the boy in front of him. The boy’s pallid skin makes me doubt his desire to be here. Jared sidles up to me.

“If you keep up that face, this poor kid is either going to run or piss himself,” he whispers.

“If a certain someone wouldn’t have signed me up for this, he wouldn’t have to worry about that,” I reply dryly.

Jared snorts and gets back to work.

I feel eyes on me, but I can’t see anything unusual. I guess standing in front of a row of people will account for a few eyes finding their way to me.

The candidate with the sickly color leaves, and the next one steps up. The kid is slim and doesn’t look old enough to enter, but passes the warded threshold without a problem.

He moves well but looks like either one of us can push him over with a deep breath.

His thin frame and carefree smile remind me of Leo.

I slam down the metal shield in my mind as soon as the thought comes up.

I’m not going back there. It’s bad enough that he and the others keep popping up in my dreams.

Eyes of an unusual blue-green meet mine for a second, and I suck in a breath. I have no idea why this kid affects me that much or why he seems familiar. I push down my curiosity. I don’t want to know.

“Summer.” He fidgets. “Gray…Grayson Summer,” the boy mumbles. His voice is warm and husky.

I instantly know the first name is false, but the last name sounds correct.

Truth-telling is one of my gifts. Lies are dissonant, like someone playing out of harmony, and make my skin crawl if I have to listen for too long.

It is not like I instantly know the truth, but it gives me a hint that something about a sentence isn’t right.

That the kid stated his names separately is the only reason I’m able to make the distinction here, and it piques my interest.

Why would he make up a different first name?

I watch him closely. His voice sounds more relaxed now, and he jokes with Jared about how intimidating we are, surprising a laugh out of Jared in the process.

The kid’s gaze flicks back to me. He has big eyes with long lashes, freckles dust his nose and cheeks, and strands of straw-colored hair peek out from under his woolen hat. His cheeks are smooth. He looks not a day older than sixteen and unaffected by the bad this world has to offer.

Why the fuck did he end up here?

Our eyes meet for a second before he looks away again.

Summer takes his number, and while I want to say something to change his mind and send him home to safety, I don’t.

His eyes meet mine again. I can’t read his expression, but he doesn’t seem cowed by my glowering. Maybe there is more to this wisp of a boy than is apparent. He claims us to be intimidating, but clearly, that isn’t true.