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Rhea

W hen I open my eyes, I can do nothing else but close them right back. My head is splitting in two. I’m sure of it.

“Rhea, are you all right?” Phoebe asks, her voice brimming with concern.

“I… I guess,” I moan.

“Let me go,” Silas yells. “I should kill the bitch.”

“Calm down,” Nate hisses. “You’re angry.”

“She dares insult my family. That’s off limits. I'll…” His voice grows dimmer until I can’t hear him anymore.

—He will pay for this.

My eyes shoot open, the light from the torches tearing at my brain like spears. I throw an arm across my face, disoriented by more than the chasm fracturing my skull.

—How are you talking to me right now? I ask Zephyros.

—The Pyrewings are a blight , he replies, ignoring my question.

Though I’d love to know more, I can’t even begin to process the intriguing quality of that statement. My head is killing me, and the entire plateau is spinning. Bile rising to my throat, I roll onto my shoulder and throw up.

“Goddess!” Phoebe exclaims. “We need to take her to the infirmary. Help me, Adelaide.”

Between the two of them, they hoist me to my feet and start dragging me.

“N-no,” I protest. “Not the infirmary.”

At the infirmary, they will ask questions, and they’ll likely punish Silas. I prefer to take care of my own problems.

We stop moving.

“Just take me to my room,” I add. “I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know, Phoebe,” Adelaide says. “She’s probably concussed.”

“You’re right,” Phoebe replies.

We start moving again. I try to argue, but I’m sleepy. I’ll tell them when I wake up.

* * *

This time, I come to in the infirmary. The first thing I see is a woman’s face only a few inches from mine.

“Goddess! Don’t scare me like that,” I mumble.

“Follow my finger.” She lifts her index and starts moving it from side to side, then up and down.

I do my best to track it, but my head hurts like all Seven Hells.

“Are you dizzy?” she asks.

“I’m fine. It’s the rest of the world that’s spinning.”

“What is your name?”

“Rhealyn Wyndward.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Sky’s Edge. Infirmary.”

“How did you hit your head?”

“Si—” I stop myself and wag a finger at her. “You’re not going to trick me.”

She rolls back in a wheeled stool. “She does have a mild concussion, but with some rest, she’ll be fine, High Prime.”

High Prime ?

I focus past the medic and find Vaylen towering over my bed. He stands with arms crossed over his massive chest, glaring at me with disapproval.

Shit!

I close my eyes and let my head fall to the side, pretending to pass out.

“I’ll keep a close eye on her for the next few hours,” the medic says, then rolls away further, leaving me with the grumpy giant. I sense him move. Maybe he’s leaving, too.

“I know you’re faking,” his deep voice whispers too close for comfort.

It’s hard not to flinch, but I manage to keep my charade.

“You’re going to tell me what happened,” he assures me. “Violence amongst the ranks of the Sky Order isn’t allowed. Our enemies lie outside our borders, not within.”

My breaths even out. Faking is getting easier. I think I’m ready for another nap.

“We’ll talk later, Rhealyn.”

What? I open my eyes, searching, but there’s no one there. I must have imagined it. He wouldn’t call me by my first name. No way. I must admit… I do like the sound of my full name in his deep timbre.

* * *

“Who hit you?” Vaylen asks for the third time.

I stand across from him in what looks like some sort of strategy room. There’s a large oak table in the middle, and a set of shelves replete with rolled-up maps behind him. My chin is held high, my back straight. I still have a slight headache, but nothing I can’t handle. Yesterday, I spent the entire day in the infirmary. That is two days of training missed. I can’t afford more. Bonded or not.

“Who hit you?” he insists.

Honestly, he should know better. I’m not going to answer him.

He sighs. “Why are you protecting him, Skysinger Wyndward?”

Him? He must be assuming. Women, civilized as we are, don’t solve our problems with our fists.

Again, I offer no answer.

“I know it was Silas,” he says.

Wyrm’s rot! Who in all the hells told him?

“Of all your mates, he’s the one who needs your protection the least.” He sounds tired.

“With all due respect, High Prime Stormsong,” I say. “If you already know, why question me?”

“I expect my Clutch members to fully communicate about all issues.”

“I’m not a snitch and can fight my own battles. And besides, what purpose would it serve to report him? It won’t make a difference.”

“That isn’t true,” he says with certainty.

I frown, hoping he’ll elaborate, but he doesn’t. He just gives me this knowing look. Lord Basil Pyrewing, Silas’s father, is a powerful man. He owns a fortune and is close to the King, but it seems Vaylen knows something I don’t.

“If that is all, Sir,” I say, “I’ll go back to my room to review signaling and formations.” We learned all of this material at the Academy, but I need a refresher. The other Skyriders are already flying and putting into practice what, up until now, has been nothing but theory in our heads.

“That is not all,” he says, coming around the table.

I stop and turn to face him, my expression aloof. Cold.

Standing in front of me, he looks me up and down, blue eyes scanning me from head to toes. The force of his gaze gives me a shiver that I fight to conceal. I’m reminded of his mouth on mine, of the pressure of his manhood, and a thrill of desire spirals to my core.

Ignore it, Rhea. Remember, this man isn’t part of your plans anymore.

I look straight ahead, giving only indifference away.

“Chief Inspector Cragmere will be here to talk to you tomorrow,” he announces.

The heat I’m fighting to conceal dies as if doused by a bucket of icy water, and I’m grateful for the indifferent expression I’d put on, or I might have given away more than mere surprise.

“May I ask why?” I say in an even tone I can only be thankful for.

“I don’t know. A Boltgram arrived earlier today announcing his visit, but it mentioned no details.”

—Is everything all right? I sense you’re in distress, Zephyros asks inside my mind.

I can’t formulate an answer. My thoughts are moving too fast.

—Oh, I see , Zephyros adds.

Wait, was he able to discern my thoughts from that jumbled mess?

—Yes .

All right, that’s convenient, I suppose. What about my privacy?

—I can only see what you allow me to see.

—Can you see what I can’t see?

—I’m not sure what you mean.

I guess that’s a no then.

“Do you have any idea what the Chief Inspector may want?” Vaylen asks.

“Not in the least,” I lie.

I suspect the file told Cragmere that Cindergrasp was my Neutro, and my mother died during the procedure. The Chief Inspector now knows I had a motive.

—Can they prove anything? Zephyros asks.

I shake my head, unsure. Vaylen regards me through narrowed eyes. I stare at the floor. Damn! I need to learn not to react when Zephyros speaks inside my head.

“I want to be in the room when he interviews you,” Vaylen says.

“What? Why?”

“As I explained before, I like to be aware of all issues pertaining to my Clutch.”

My thoughts race as I try to come up with an excuse why he can’t be there.

“They… didn’t find your file,” Vaylen says carefully. “It was missing.”

My gaze snaps to meet his. So the message did contain details. All the tension leaves me. They don’t know who performed my Cleansing, and I’ve already told them I don’t remember the name of my Neutro. Except—the tension returns with full force—what if they ask my father?

I swallow and do my best to react the way an innocent person would. “Why was my file missing?”

“A clerical error, most likely.”

“But what does the Chief Inspector want with me? I don’t understand.”

“I suppose he wants to rule you out as a suspect.” He shrugs.

“I… didn’t kill Neutro Cindergrasp. I didn’t even know who he was.”

“Is there anyone else who might know who your Neutro was?” He adds, “Your parents, perhaps?”

I shake my head. “My mother took me to my Cleansing. I remember that much. My father didn’t come. He’s a law clerk and was busy with work, so I have no idea if he knows who did my procedure.”

“What about your mother?”

“She…” I swallow again. “She’s dead.”

“I’m… sorry.”

I shrug as if it doesn’t matter, but it matters. It has always mattered.

Vaylen speaks with care, navigating through the pain he must see on my face. “Any… siblings.”

There’s a hairline crack on the stone floor. I stare at it and slowly shake my head, bracing myself against the awful pain unfurling in my chest.

“Forgive me,” Vaylen says in a hurry. “If you want me to be present when Cragmere questions you, I’d be glad to. If you don’t, I respect that.”

I shrug in non-answer.

“You can stay here for as long as you wish, if you need a moment.” He leaves, his steps silent.

Emotions churn inside me. Sadness, fear, anger—everything as fresh as the first day. People say that, with time, the wounds heal, but it must be a lie because whenever my thoughts veer toward that day, I want to rail against the world. Killing the culprit hardly seems enough. There are others who hid what Cindergrasp did. They need to pay, too. Need to die.

Suddenly, a soothing sensation spreads through my mind. It’s almost like the purr of a cat, a vibration. For a moment, I’m confused, then realize it’s coming from Zephyros. I close my eyes and let it spread all over me. My mind clears, all the raw emotions retreating, hiding in the various corners where I normally hide them.

—Thank you, Zephyros .

His response is only a feeling that conveys a simple message: there’s no need to thank me.

I leave the strategy room and head to my room. Training starts in only fifteen minutes, so I have that long to study. Once I’m done reviewing the material, I hurry to the lifts. A Claw salutes me, and I’m still surprised by the deference. She opens the metal doors and allows me in. The clanking sounds of metal echo through the shaft as I ascend.

—You’re different with me , I say.

—We are bonded now .

—So you would still be a jerk to me if we weren’t?

—I know you now. I have seen your soul. You are fierce and fight for the right reasons. I can trust you. My instinct to bond you was true.

A feeling of peace descends over me. I know it comes from Zephyros, but part of it comes from me. Can I trust it? Ever since my mother died, I have lived with my guard up. I had forgotten what peace was, and the feeling is foreign now.

I think for a moment, then shake my head. No, I can’t stop looking over my shoulder. I have to protect myself.

—You are not alone anymore, little one. No one will ever harm you again.

The lift stops, and I open the door. Sunlight bathes the enclosure, blinding me. I step outside, a hand over my brow. When my vision clears, the first thing I see is Zephyros, his silver scales shining like a beacon. I head in his direction. He follows my every step. I sense the connection between us, a Tether much stronger than the ones that fastened us two days ago, so strong that I know only death could ever break it.

Vaylen and Phoebe face their dragons, their backs to me. I step next to Phoebe, and she startles.

“Rhea! I’m glad you’re here,” she says.

“Thank you, Phoebe.”

Vaylen turns from Fragor. “Skysinger Wyndward, do you feel well enough to join us?”

“I do, Sir.”

“Good.” He addresses Phoebe. “Go and practice maneuvers with Trueno. I need to go over the basics with Wyndward.”

“Yes, Sir.” She takes off toward Trueno and is atop his head, securely Tethered, in a matter of seconds. Then Trueno jumps off the cliff, and they’re gone.

I smile at the sight, eager to join her.

Vaylen’s gaze lowers from Trueno’s shrinking shape to me. That same electric feeling that struck me the first time I met him assaults me again. He is achingly beautiful, from his strong jaw to his perfectly straight nose, to those intense blue eyes that always seem at the verge of glowing with power.

A vibration goes through me, different from the one I felt earlier. It’s an acknowledgment from Zephyros. He’s letting me know he sees whatever this is between Vaylen and me. Does the dragon disapprove? I can’t tell one way or another. I only perceive uncertainty. Either way, I hide it all from Vaylen, showing only disciplined attention.

“You were Tethered securely the last time,” Vaylen begins. “I’m sure Zephyros was controlling those Tethers since you were completely immobile. However, you need to be able to control your own Tethers and keep them to a maximum of two. I trust you’ll have no trouble since you’re bonded. It’s a lot easier for us. Now, get up there and show me you can do it, so we can get to the fun part.”

He gives me a crooked smile. It surprises me. He’s always so stern, I was beginning to think his lips didn’t know how to curve upward. But why is he being friendly now? Is it because I’ve been indifferent to him? Because he doesn’t see me as a threat anymore? And the inevitable question… is he glad or does he miss the attention and wants to reignite it?

Whatever the case, it doesn’t matter. I’m ready to fly. I start toward Zephyros, then notice someone walking in our direction. A Claw.

“Sir,” she stops and salutes Vaylen, “An urgent Boltgram just arrived for you.”

Vaylen takes the message and frowns at the seal. As is customary, the Claw waits in case there’s a response.

After breaking the seal, Vaylen reads. His expression changes slowly, growing somber.

What? More bad news?

Vaylen addresses the messenger. “Deliver a message back, reply that we’ll be there shortly.”

The Claw leaves, and Vaylen turns to face me. “We have to go.”

“We?”

“Yes, you and me.”

“Where?”

“Stonefall Castle to see the King.”

* * *

Vaylen and I ride in a carriage. I thought we would fly on Fragor, except King Stonefall is not in Emberton, but in Eastwatch Manor, which is only a thirty-minute ride from Sky’s Edge. The manor serves as a place for the King to vacation and get away from the capital.

I fidget, bouncing my knee. We’re both out of our leathers and in formal uniforms.

“I don’t like this,” I blurt out.

Vaylen raises an eyebrow.

I cross my arms and force my leg to stop moving.

“You’re a bonded rider, Skysinger Wyndward. It’s an honor. The King wishes to congratulate you.”

Scrutinizing his face, I try to decide whether or not he believes this. “Is that what he did with you? Congratulate you?”

“Yes,” he says dryly.

“I don’t know. This seems… out of the blue. Besides, we don’t have time to waste. I should be training, learning all I can. I’m already behind as it is.” My stomach feels as if a snake is slithering inside it.

“He’s the King,” he offers as explanation, implying that, as such, he can do whatever he wants. We’re quiet for a moment, then Vaylen lets out a sigh. “My advice to you, Skysinger, is to say little and bow deeply.”

I wait for more, but he looks out the window.

“That’s it?” I ask, puzzled. “That’s your advice?”

“You’re smart, I assume. Top of the class and all. Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”

Given all the rumors about the King, Vaylen’s message is clear. Talk little and bow deeply means I should be nothing but subservient in front of King Craven Stonefall. For Embernia’s sake, I must pretend that a man who requires constant flattery to bolster his fragile ego holds all the power—all while sharing a bond with a dragon capable of blowing anyone across the realm. Of course, I don’t need Vaylen to spell anything out.

I sigh. “I just thought we could talk about it since we’re… the same. Bonded, I mean.”

He flicks a lint off his black trousers.

“But,” I add, “you don’t seem to be much of a conversationalist.”

“You’d be wise not to make the King a topic for conversation, Skysinger.”

A cogwing! I swear the man is a cogwing.

* * *

The heavy oak door creaks open as Vaylen and I step inside, the scent of oiled leather immediately filling the air. My gaze sweeps over the room, taking everything in. Polished crossbows, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and what look suspiciously like uncut gemstones, are mounted on prominent wall fixtures, more like trophies than tools. Quivers with meticulously fletched arrows and gleaming tips hang from the walls, along with jeweled swords polished to perfection. The scene is completed by several tapestries depicting large stags brought down by lone, regal figures who bear a striking resemblance to the King, though sporting larger muscles and stature than in real life.

To the side, two hounds lie on plush cushions, their coats gleaming as if they’ve just been brushed. They lift their heads to watch us, before settling back down.

King Craven Stonefall sits at the end of the long room, the focal point of this carefully constructed scene. A young Claw, looking utterly mortified, kneels on the floor, struggling with a pair of new hunting boots. Behind the King, ten guards stand at attention, all men of high rank, far above a Claw. They watch us closely, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. Ten guards? He could have a hundred, and it would still be a pathetic force against two bonded Skyriders, even if one is untrained. It speaks volumes about his paranoia.

Vaylen and I stop a respectable distance from the King, waiting for him to acknowledge our presence. He continues to watch the struggling Claw with a furrowed brow, seemingly oblivious to our arrival. It’s a transparent act though, another layer to the performance he’s so carefully orchestrating in this room. Finally, after a deliberate pause and a dismissive wave at the Claw, his shifty gray eyes flick upward, as if only just now registering our existence. The Claw walks away backward, his head bowed deeply.

“Ah,” the King drawls, his gaze settling on Vaylen with thinly veiled contempt. “Vaylen. You’ve brought... it.”

It? What am I? A new cloak for his collection?

His gaze flicks to me, raking me up and down with those cunning eyes of his, acting as if I’m mud on his new boots. My skin crawls.

“This is the new bonded rider?” he asks, his tone dripping with disdain.

“Yes, Your Majesty. This is Skysinger Rhealyn Wyndward. She has bonded Zephyros. She’s this year’s top graduate from Aerie Academy.”

The King sneers as if this means nothing—not to someone of royal blood passed down a millennia-old lineage.

He stands, stamps his boots, and gestures to the Claw, who hurries back with a short leather jacket. The Claw holds it, and King Craven stuffs his painfully thin arms into the sleeves.

“Very well,” the King says, “We will have an official announcement at some point.” He rolls his shoulders, settling into the jacket, then walks off, snapping his fingers at the dogs. They jump from their cushions and follow him out the door. The guards follow, marching in unison and never looking at us.

Vaylen and I stand there until we can’t hear their heels striking the floor anymore. We exchange a glance, then leave Eastwatch Manor as quickly as we arrived.

I fume the entire way back. The bastard made us waste hours for his petty game of superiority. What a ridiculous, pompous weasel. What did he think he would accomplish with that act? Make us fall to his feet in adoration? Idiotic, because if I didn’t dislike him before, I surely dislike him now. A smarter man would treat us with decency and keep us on his side.

When we arrive back at Sky’s Edge and get out of the carriage, dragons swirl above us, my mates training, getting ahead of me.

“He didn’t even say congratulations,” I tell Vaylen.

He says nothing in reply, but his expression makes up for the lack of response. He looks angry, and I suspect that if he didn’t have a rule that prohibited him making Craven Stonefall a topic for conversation, he would have a few choice words for the jerk.

Instead, he says, “Come on. We have work to do.”