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Rhea

D espite the time wasted, I get a chance to ride Zephyros and practice Tethering. To my satisfaction, I find that Vaylen was right and creating and controlling my own Tethers, limiting myself to two, turns out to be as natural as breathing—for the most part. For what is left of the day, we soar through the sky, first freely, then following Vaylen’s lead in complex maneuvers. My quick overview of all the signals and patterns helps me perform to perfection. Not for a moment does it appear as if I’ve missed two days of intense instructions. When my memory falters, Zephyros whispers the necessary cues into my mind, allowing me to remain in perfect synchronicity with Vaylen and Phoebe, banking left and right, diving, ascending, spiraling, feeling pure exhilaration pumping in my veins.

When we finish, my arms and legs feel like rubber. Though I tried to relax and rely on my Tethers while flying, it seems I remained tense most of the time. I imagine it will take some getting used to being a Skyrider, a creature of land and sky.

“Impressive work from both of you,” Vaylen says when we dismount, four hours after we first took to the sky. “You’re free for a shower and a meal. At fourteen hundred, there will be a meeting in the main briefing room. Don’t be late.”

He turns and leaves, his gaze lingering on me a little too long. Fortunately, Phoebe doesn’t notice. She’s too busy writing things down. It seems her annotation habit is back.

“Did Vaylen approve that?” I point at the booklet.

She gasps. “Don’t call him that.”

“Why not? That’s his name, isn’t it?” I hide my mistake behind nonchalance.

“You know why. It’s disrespectful. You’ll get in trouble if he hears you.”

“ Bah! ” I put an arm around her and guide her toward the lifts. “We were something up there, weren’t we?” My eyes and brows point skyward.

She forgets her grievance and lights up with a smile. “We were. Trueno is the best.”

“No, Zephyros is the best.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree.”

We both laugh. Phoebe slows her pace and flashes a look toward the lifts. Silas is there with Nate and two Skyforges: Robert Silverin and Lysander Oreton.

People at the Academy also used to hover around Silas, imagining his friendship would grant them some sort of benefit. I thought we were friends, but I guess he only saw me as one of his sycophants, a spendable acquaintance that helped him look better.

These two were never close to Silas before. Of those who used to surround him, only Nate made it here. Instead, Robert and Lysander led their own packs, both great students in their own right, and already looking good as Skyriders. I caught a glimpse of them flying their grays. They looked strong and in control.

At the sight of them, Phoebe won’t budge and gives me a pleading look. Please don’t get into a fight , her green eyes seem to say. I want payback. I can’t let Silas get away with punching me. He’ll think he can bully me, but?—

—One flick of my tail , Zephyros says.

—I can take care of him myself .

He huffs, which feels like a brush across the surface of my brain. What a strange feeling!

“Don’t worry, Phoebe,” I say. “This isn’t the right time.” I’m not going to do anything that delays our departure to the front lines.

She grimaces. “There is no right time, Rhea. The best thing is to ignore him.”

The lift in front of Silas arrives. He glances in my direction with a mixture of contempt and triumph. He thinks I’m afraid of him. He has no idea. Zephyros huffs again. It seems we’re in agreement. Silas Pyrewing doesn’t scare us—not even with Ignemara as his dragon, who is said to be formidable.

Phoebe and I take the next lift. On the way down, I suddenly remember the Chief Inspector’s impending visit, and panic returns. I’ve already told them I don’t remember who my Neutro was, and I will stick to my story. Now only my father can give me away. He tried to denounce Cindergrasp in the beginning, but the Neutro’s story held. For years, my father dreamed of exposing him. But Neutros protect their own and their reputation, and every time he complained, they dismissed him as the weak, grieving husband, who lost his mind due to an unfortunate event.

So when Cragmere questions my father—if he hasn’t been questioned already, and the Chief Inspector is only coming here to arrest me—he won’t hesitate to accuse Cindergrasp.

My throat tightens. I pull on my collar, swallowing with difficulty. My breaths come short and fast. When we reach the bottom and a Claw opens the door, I hurry out and head for the lavatory.

“See you in the mess hall,” I call out to Phoebe.

I bar myself in one of the stalls, trying to control my panic. All that I’ve built could come crashing down.

—It will not , Zephyros assures me.

—They’ll lock me in a cell.

—They will not.

—I killed him, Zephyros. I’m a murderess.

—He deserved it for what he tried to do to you.

—That won’t matter to them. They’ll want to make an example out of me. I’m a… Weaver. My panic redoubles. I bend over the commode as my stomach churns.

—None of that will happen.

—How can you be so sure?

—Because you will visit your father tonight and will ask him to keep your secret.

* * *

No matter how many times I ask Zephyros to tell me how I’m supposed to visit my father when it’s forbidden for Skyriders to leave their post in Sky’s Edge, he refuses to answer. All he says is for me not to worry, then proceeds to give me the silent treatment.

Leaving the privy, I expect to be consumed by worry, but by the time I reach the mess hall, a strange calm has settled over me, thanks to the constant, soothing vibrations emanating from my dragon.

As I take a seat next to Phoebe and Adelaide, I’m still curious, but not anxious. It seems wrong for him to manipulate my emotions this way, but I can’t say I really mind the peace of mind.

Shrugging it off, I devour my steak and vegetables, barely coming up for air. The fare is considerably better than what we used to get at the Academy, which is saying a lot. I look up, considering going for seconds. My gaze catches on a set of blue eyes firmly set on me. The intensity of Vaylen’s expression catches me by surprise. Something stirs inside me, a wave of desire accompanies the strange feeling.

Damn! I lower my eyes to my empty plate. I don’t need him anymore, but would it be so bad if I?—

—Don’t even think about it, Zephyros pipes in out of nowhere.

—What?! Get out of my head. This is none of your concern.

—He’s a weakling.

—A weakling? He’s the most powerful man in Embernia.

He huffs, which seems to be one of his favorite ways to express himself. I imagine him blowing air through his large nostril, wherever he is.

—In my lair, in the bowels of the plateau , he says .

—Then take a nap and let me worry about my own affairs.

—A female must select a strong mate.

—How dare you? You have no ? —

Nate stands in front of me across the table, holding his food tray. My shoulders tense as I ready myself to jump to my feet. Phoebe and Adelaide mirror my reaction.

“I’d like to sit here, if that’s all right with you?” His dark eyes purposely meet everyone’s gaze.

“Nate,” Phoebe says, “we don’t want any trouble.”

“I don’t either. I just… well, let me say, I don’t see eye to eye with Silas anymore.”

I frown. I’ve always thought of Nate as a good guy, but I don’t feel I can trust him. “Get back to your friends, Nate.”

“They’re not my friends. Robert and Lysander never were, and maybe I never knew Silas.”

“Did he send you here to spy?” I ask.

Nate shakes his head. “Do you really think that poorly of me?” He pauses, giving me a chance to answer. When I don’t, he continues, “I’m not one of his lackeys, Rhea, but I understand. You’re right to feel suspicious.”

He turns and starts to walk toward an empty table. From across the room, I notice Silas’s intense look of contempt toward Nate. It could all be an act, but I have to trust my gut, and it’s telling me my good opinion of Nate hasn’t changed despite Silas’s actions.

“Nate,” I call.

He glances back over his shoulder.

“I’m good with you joining us if Phoebe and Adelaide are.”

Nate consults with the others, expression hopeful.

“Of course.” Phoebe nods.

His eyes light up.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Adelaide puts a finger over her mouth and taps it, making a show of considering. “He tells the worst jokes.”

“He really does,” I agree.

“That’s not true.” Nate returns and sets his tray on the table. “Phoebe appreciates my sense of humor. Don’t you, Phoebe?”

She giggles, blushing.

“See.” Nate pulls a chair out and sits. “She must be remembering the one about the dragon who quit his job at the bakery because he was sick of getting burnt out.”