Page 37

37

Rhea

W hen we arrive atop the plateau, training is in full swing. All thoughts of Cragmere fly out of my mind at the sight of fire and dirt erupting in two distant points of the training grounds. A bolt of lighting strikes the valley below while the Skybolts fly overhead at a safe distance from us. I wish I could see an attack from a dragon, but they’re not exactly subtle. They are used in large battles with care, lest they hurt our own troops. Skyriders can be more precise and controlled, which is why humans and dragons make a good team.

A huge grin stretches my lips. I exchange a glance with Vaylen, feeling elated.

“Time to show me what you’re capable of.” He winks and walks toward our awaiting dragons, who stand next to Phoebe and Trueno.

When she notices us, she pulls away from him and salutes. “I’m looking forward to today, Sir.”

“I can imagine.” Vaylen greets Fragor with a head nod.

I do the same with Zephyros.

“Apologies for our delay, Breezehart,” Vaylen adds. “We had to take care of a few things relating to Skysinger Wyndward’s bonding announcement.”

Breezehart? No Skysinger? Maybe he’s loosening up a bit.

I don’t know why Vaylen would lie for me. I imagine it’s because he doesn’t want gossip and speculation to run rampant through our ranks, but I’m not sure. Perhaps there’s more to it. I frown, unsure of whether I like the idea.

“I’ve never been the type of man to do anything in half measures,” he said to me, making me wonder what a full measure means to him.

Vaylen’s eyes rove over the plateau. “The others are getting ahead of us. We can’t allow that.”

“Damn right,” I say, earning a scandalized look from Phoebe.

“I appreciate the enthusiasm,” Vaylen says, “but let’s adhere to our rules of conduct, Skysinger.”

I shrug, and Phoebe shakes her head.

Rubbing his hands together, Vaylen paces in front of us. “The first thing we’ll do is practice blunt attack techniques. Breezehart, according to our training books, what should we begin with?”

“Wind Blast, Sir,” she replies.

There are a number of attacks that require little precision and basically involve blasting the full force of one’s power at the opponents. Those techniques are considered blunt and unrefined, but they’re the easiest to master and can still prove effective, especially against hordes of Screechclaws.

Without warning, Vaylen pivots on his heels, crouching and extending his arms. When he’s facing the cliffside, a pure white glow starts around his hands, then spreads all over his body. I squint but watch as a prodigious mass of air explodes from his hands with a boom. Dirt crumbles off the edge of the cliff and rains toward the valley below. Off to the side, Fragor’s body glows with the same white light, a testament to the mutually beneficial relationship between dragons and riders.

Vaylen turns to us once more. “Now, take your positions a safe distance from each other, facing the cliffside, and do your best. Feel the flow within you and simply follow it.”

Instinctively, we already know how to do Wind Blast—not to mention that, at the Academy, we practiced ad nauseam, blowing sheets of paper and books off desks or making communication flags flutter. That was the extent of our power then, but now… it’s time to find out what else we’re capable of.

Phoebe walks away, slowly putting distance between us. It’s clear she’s letting me have a first go at this. Rolling my shoulders, I face the cliffside and take a deep breath.

—Ready, Zephyros? I ask.

—We are bonded, little one. No matter where you are, our connection means you will be ready as long as I live.

—And vice versa.

—Indeed.

I reach down to that spark that has always lived in my chest and now shines brighter than ever, and I let go. My elemental power surges through the rest of my body, unrestrained. With a mere thought, I direct it toward my outstretched hands, the horizon in my sight.

I’m accustomed to the feel of my power just the way I’m accustomed to the length of my gait and the texture of my hair. That’s why when an indescribable Wind Blast erupts from my hands, I panic. Enveloped in blinding white light, I yelp and throw my hands up in the air, severing the maneuver at the source. The abrupt cut puts me off balance, and I crash to my bottom.

Panting, I sit there and stare at my hands.

Vaylen and Phoebe appear at my side.

“Are you all right?” Vaylen asks.

I nod.

“What happened?”

“I… I wasn’t expecting that. It felt… different. Vast.”

“Yes. I should’ve warned you, but I’m so used to it now that I forget. Can you get up?”

“Sure?”

“Need help.” He puts a hand out.

“No, I’m fine.” I get back up on my feet, giving Phoebe a sheepish grin. “Maybe you should try it next. Show me how it’s done.”

Her red eyebrows draw together, and after nodding with determination, she jogs off and takes her position facing the cliffside.

“She seems like two different people sometimes,” Vaylen says, watching her fondly.

“You noticed?”

“Of course.” He sounds offended by my question. “I make it a point to notice. I’m responsible for every Skysinger in my Clutch. The more I know about them, the better I can serve them.”

“That’s a novel concept. Maybe you should teach it to the teachers at the Academy. They only ever seem to look out for themselves and their advancement up the ranks.”

“Sadly, it’s no different in the Sky Order,” he says under his breath, focusing on Phoebe as she takes several deep breaths in preparation.

With the grace of a dancer, she swings her arms to the sides, making a circle as she brings her hands together. When they meet, she thrust them toward the cliffside at the same time that she stamps a boot forward, ending in a lunge that braces her against the power that erupts from her cupped hands. Her Wind Blast is strong, no doubt, but it’s not as impressive as Vaylen’s. And there’s no glow around her or Trueno.

“Excellent work, Breezehart,” Vaylen praises her with sincerity, and she beams.

“I like your style,” I tease.

She blushes and shrugs one shoulder.

“Mind if I borrow it?” I ask. “I think it would help with my balance.”

“Have at it,” she says, not a hint of animosity in her tone. She has never minded sharing. The woman will surely have a special place in Heratrix’s Heavenly Halls one day.

“All right.” Rolling my shoulders, I take my position once more. I crack my neck and take several deep breaths in preparation.

—Do not embarrass me again , Zephyros says.

I ignore him, letting my deep breaths calm me. When I’m ready, I focus on the flow of my inner energy and move with it. In the end, I perform my own dance, a gentle swaying as I let go of the lock on my power and let it suffuse me. My arms follow the same swaying motion until they come together at the wrists, one on top of the other. My fingers form claws. A blinding light builds and builds between them, forming a sphere of wind power. It grows impossibly brighter, but my eyes adapt. I suspect they’re glowing—just like Vaylen’s.

—That’s enough for now, little one. Let it go , Zephyros says.

I do as he says and throw my arms out, expelling the sphere along with all the accumulated power. A huge Wing Blast explodes from me, creating a deafening sound as it breaks the resonance threshold. I stagger back but hold. A bigger chunk of the cliff’s edge breaks off and crumbles down the side. Rocks and dust hurl toward the valley.

Lowering my arms, I blink in awe. I glance back and find Phoebe with an arm thrown over her brow to protect herself from the brilliance. Next to her, Vaylen’s eyes are aglow, a protection against the blinding light. They dim and return to their beautiful blue hue.

Phoebe approaches. “That was amazing.” She leans closer, a hand covering her mouth from the side to hide her words from Vaylen. “You and Zephyros glowed even brighter than the High Prime and Fragor.” Shaking her head in awe, she heads toward her dragon. “So amazing,” she mutters to herself.

As she leaves, Vaylen walks over, looking stern. I wring my hands, wondering if I’ve done something I shouldn’t have.

“That was extraordinary,” he says, sounding impressed. “Did you… give it your all?”

I shake my head. “Um, no. I was afraid to.”

“Caution is a laudable trait, Skysinger. I’m glad you have the sense to exercise it. I would suggest you continue to do so unless directed otherwise.”

“Yes, Sir.”

His serious expression gives me pause. What does he think I’m capable of?

—Zephyros? Should I be worried? I ask, sensing amusement from him.

—It is not you who should worry. It is the Screechclaws and perhaps others.

—What do you mean by others ?

—Those who might inevitably see you as a threat. He sighs in contentment. It has been an extraordinarily long time since I felt a bond this strong.

Head lowered to hide any expression that might betray me, I approach Zephyros, leaving Vaylen behind. I feel his inquisitive eyes on my back, sense the way his mind works, likely wondering about the breadth of my power the same way I am.

—How long? I ask.

—At least six centuries, give or take.

—That’s… insane. And who gives or takes a century? Only Dragons. I add, Why is that?

—I think you can figure that out all on your own, little one.

An answer immediately materializes in my mind, and my entire body quakes. I crouch and pretend to retie my bootlaces in an effort to hide the way my legs turn to jelly. I breathe fast and shallow, and it takes me a moment to even form a coherent thought.

—It’s… my Weaver power, isn’t it? I ask.

Zephyros hums. Crouching there, I look up at him, his long neck and head against the backdrop of the blue sky. He looks out at the horizon, his silver gaze lost on a faraway point. His mood covers me like a heavy blanket, delivering a rainbow of emotions I can’t fully comprehend. He’s pleased, but also sad. He’s hopeful, but also afraid. He’s angry, but also?—

I shake my head and close my eyes, imagining my boot stamping on our connection to stop the flow of overwhelming feelings that seem to pour from him like warmth from the sun. The pressure building in my chest disappears, and I can, at last, take a deep breath.

“Breezehart,” Vaylen says behind me, “practice Wind Blast a few more times. Try to vary the level of intensity in each blast, but please, don’t bring down the plateau.”

Phoebe laughs nervously. “I don’t think that’s a legitimate concern with me.”

“You never know,” Vaylen offers jovially. “We’ll move to Wind Wall when you’re done.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Vaylen’s steps move in my direction. I clear my throat and do my best to compose myself.

His hand falls on my shoulder. “Everything all right?”

“Yes.”

I sniffle, rising to my feet and smiling awkwardly. “I’m ready for more. I’ll make sure to dial it down.” I try to circumvent him.

He pushes lightly on my shoulder to stop me, then sets his hand down. “What’s going on?”

The boom of Phoebe’s Wind Blast sounds behind him. Dust scatters, a sheer curtain against the sky.

I frown up at him. “I…” Thumbing my lower lip, I grasp for a lie. It doesn’t come as fast as usual, but, in the end, it does. “I… am worried.”

He cocks his head to one side, a strand coming loose from his otherwise precise hair. “Worried?”

The lock of hair is blessedly distracting. I imagine pushing it back in place, letting my fingers caress his forehead as I do so. He notices the way my gaze wanders and pushes the strand back himself. His eyes tighten around the corners, then rove around us. When they meet mine once more, he seems to say, Careful. Someone could notice.

I lick my lips slowly, deliberately. He looks down, swallows thickly. A muscle ticks in his jaw.

“Not a good idea to test me,” he murmurs.

Zephyros huffs, startling us. He blows air through his nostrils, looking displeased.

—What is this? he demands.

—What is what?

—I sense… arousal.

Wyrm’s rot! I want to melt into the ground. Maybe I can get Nate to use his fire power to cook me down into a puddle of melted bones and charred entrails.

—Stay out of this, Zephyros, I order him. These are my private affairs.

—Private affairs?! What are you saying? By all the stars, you mated with him!

—No. I did not. Like I said… my private affairs. Not yours.

With an angry grunt, Zephyros stomps toward the edge, leaps, and takes off, the blast from his wings sending us backward.

“What’s his problem?” I demand to no one in particular.

“He has never liked me.” Vaylen squints up at Zephyros’s retreating figure.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Some history between him and Fragor, I suspect.”

“Really? Like what?”

“I have no idea. I can’t fathom the expanse of their lives and all they have been through.” He sounds forlorn, as if he’s imagining untold pain, which I have often thought must be part of the long lives of Embernia’s dragons. “Only they know what strife they shared, what enmity exists between them caused by a timeless wrongdoing. Besides, they’ve lost so much.”

His words unleash a deep sadness in me and get me thinking about the kind of man he is. With every passing day, I learn new things about him that show me he’s much more than he portrays. Watching him now, I discover a depth of feeling that surprises me, and suddenly, I want to ask him a million questions.

He clears his throat, and the vulnerable expression brought on by his momentary show of emotion disappears to be replaced by his usual nonchalance. Feeling unbalanced, I’m left wondering if he would answer my questions and tell me the things I would love to learn about him.

Something tells me he wouldn’t.