Page 11

11

Vaylen

I watch Skysinger Wyndward closely. She puzzles me. Her moods seem to swing wildly from one moment to the next. Just now, there seem to be tears in her eyes, which she’s trying hard to hide. Whatever she was thinking about as she glanced out the window made her mood switch from relaxed to forlorn in a matter of seconds.

And before that, while the Chief Inspector strutted around the hall like a self-important peacock, she seemed anxious.

Why?

She had already secured a dragon. There was no reason to worry anymore. I can’t help but go back to that moment on the balcony when she noticed some sort of stain on her hand, then pointedly kept her hands behind her back. She seemed anxious then, too, though she quickly changed her demeanor to a flirtatious one, completely distracting me, sending my mind straight into the boudoir.

Hells! The woman is far too alluring. That black dress she wore gave a good preview of her full breasts and shapely hips and legs, which at last proved to be as seductive as I imagined when she donned the tight leather uniform. No one could blame me for my loose conduct. I’m a hot-blooded man, who was hoping for a… productive rendezvous. Tomorrow marks the first free weekend I’ve had in six months. I would like the feel of a woman under me before the new Skyrider training begins, and we’re promptly dispatched back to Fort Ashmire in Cinderhold. Maybe there’s still hope for it. Though the party was my best chance to find someone other than a lady of certain repute. Though beggars can’t be choosers.

Now that Skysinger Wyndward seems to have her emotions under control, she’s back to looking relaxed as she reclines against the corner of the carriage. She’s good at pretending when she’s not distracted. I’ll give her that. In a way, she reminds me of a younger version of myself. I did a lot of pretending during my years at the Academy, not to mention during the Rite of Flight. It wasn’t until Fragor chose me that I felt truly free. With him by my side, people’s contempt for my lack of status—for an orphan hailing from Ashen House—turned to admiration, and my goal to prove myself was finally accomplished. No more hiding needed. No more being nice to the bastards of the world. Oh, they still hate me, but I don’t have to be afraid of them anymore. They can’t use their influence against me. I’m, at last, above their pettiness.

But the outer armor Skysinger Wyndward wears isn’t unusual in the females who join the ranks, on the contrary. They also have something to prove. When dragons were plentiful—before Heratrix disappeared and the war began—women weren’t permitted to become Skyriders. With our dwindling forces, however, the Sky Order needs to seek out the strongest, regardless of gender. And women prove their mettle, time and time again. Some of the best Skyriders I know wear their hair up in a tight knot. There are several of them under my command, and I trust them with my life.

Will Wyndward become one of them?

The woman is, indeed, a puzzle. What transpired during the last test… I’ve never experienced or heard mention of anything like that.

What does it mean?

Does she?—

Dragon’s breath, Vaylen! Stop thinking about her.

Frowning, I glance out the window, trying to put her out of sight, though I can still see her out of the corner of my eye.

I shouldn’t have chosen her. For more than one reason, I should have selected Phoebe Breezehart instead. Her powers were fine, same as Drifttown’s, but the girl—she was a girl, not a woman yet—was shy, an inconvenient trait for someone who’s expected to mount a dragon and face hordes of Screechclaws. She might have done fine, but I couldn’t take the risk. I have a duty to protect my Clutch, my Skysingers. When decisive action is needed on the battlefield, I can’t have any of my troops hesitate.

Regardless of my curiosity over this woman, I made the right choice. Besides, I know how to keep a strictly professional relationship with my subordinates, men and women alike.

Skysinger Wyndward’s presence isn’t going to change that.