Page 47

47

Vaylen

A s soon as Silas and I Drop, the others surround us, their expressions eager, worried—no doubt they can sense our moods.

“What did you find?” Prime Emberstone asks.

I clear my throat. “The town is… destroyed. We know the Screechclaws rarely take hostages, so I can’t imagine there are any survivors. The level of destruction indicates the assault was ruthless, intended to… annihilate. The townsfolk never stood a chance. The enemy likely swooped in with torches, then killed the residents as they tried to run from their burning houses. The entire village is incinerated to cinders.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Rhealyn press a hand to her mouth. Everyone’s horror and anger roll off in waves.

“And the Screechclaws?” Emberstone asks.

“We saw no sign of them.”

“Our… riders?” she asks hesitantly, fearing the answer.

“Dead.” I need to tell them the rest, but I can’t. Not yet.

Silas frowns, looking at me questioningly.

“Later,” I whisper to him, then add to the rest. “Prime Emberstone and I will discuss what to do next. Everyone, keep your eyes open.”

Silas shrugs and walks away, head bowed. I can sense that what he saw affected him, even if he’s trying to hide it. I worry about all these fresh Skyriders facing the scene in Hearthdale as their first assignment. It seems too brutal a hazing. I ponder, searching my mind, wondering if I’ve seen worse during my time in the Sky Order, but despite all I’ve witnessed from the Screechclaws, I believe this has topped everything else.

Everyone wanders off, looking dejected. I turn on my heel intending to take a private moment to process just to find Rhealyn standing behind me. I freeze, meeting her darkened gaze.

“Are you trying to avoid me?” she asks. “More than what we’re supposed to, anyhow.”

I glance all around, making sure no one is witness to the exchange. This is one of those rare moments during which I don’t know what to say. On the way from Cinderhold, I pondered what to do and only managed to go back and forth between my two options: tell her about her upcoming arrest or not tell her.

If she’s truly guilty, telling her might cause her to run away—or fly away, more precisely. She commands a dragon now, after all, a powerful one. If that happens, my betrayal to Commander Voltguard and my oaths to serve Embernia would be evident. But the alternative is, to my surprise, inconceivable. The thought of handing her over makes me sick. Worse yet, the possibility of her guilt doesn’t seem to have any effect on my desire to keep her safe and out of Cragmere’s reach.

The scenario of what would happen the moment we return to Fort Ashmire has played in my mind too many times already, and the prospect only becomes more unpalatable by the second. The Commander will expect me to isolate Rhealyn from her dragon, so she can be arrested. At the same time, Zephyros would receive an explanation. At first, it may be hard to make him understand, given that he and Rhealyn are bonded. But there’s a script to follow in these situations.

Zephyros would be told there will be a trial. By law, they’re expedited for Skyriders as their dragons can’t sit idle without their riders. If Rhealyn is found guilty of murder, Zephyros would see her actions as dishonorable and would put an end to the bond. He’s bound to Embernia first. It was Heratrix’s mandate to all dragons to protect the realm from our enemies, and, to a fault, they’re faithful to the Goddess, regardless of human affairs—even those of their bonded riders.

My stomach turns with disgust as my imagination plays the entire scenario with vivid detail.

“Are you having second thoughts about what we talked about last night?” she asks.

I shake my head adamantly. “No. I want you only for me.”

She blushes a little, and I want to pull her against me, tread my finger through her long hair, and kiss her.

Goddess! What has this woman done to me that I’m considering risking it all for her?

“But you’re right,” I say, “something did happen that has me worried. But we would need privacy to talk about it and…” I glance around once more.

She nods and swallows thickly, pondering as she stares at the ground.

I watch her closely, trying to find the truth in her reaction. I expect to see either confusion, due to my evasiveness, or fear, her thoughts inevitably turning to the murder investigation and her culpability in Cindergrasp’s demise. Except her expression remains neutral.

“Well,” she says, “maybe you can tell me later. Right now, you have more important things to worry about.”

Rhealyn walks away toward Skybolt Reefsong.

I take a deep breath to clear my mind. Rhealyn is right. Perhaps once we figure out what happened in Hearthdale, it’ll be easier for me to decide what to do.

* * *

RHEA

It takes all I’ve got to hide my immediate panic from Vaylen.

“…something did happen that has me worried. But we would need privacy to talk about it…”

Goddess! There’s only one possibility. They figured out I killed Cindergrasp.

I have to know. I need to know. Seeing no other choice, I go against all my instincts and, for the first time, use my Weaver powers to look into his mind.

—…her culpability in Cindergrasp’s demise.

I nearly choke, but I manage to keep a neutral expression.

—What is it, little one? Zephyros’s deep voice fills my head even as I stand in front of Vaylen, pretending I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Well,” I say, “you can tell me later. Right now, you have more important things to worry about.”

I can’t walk away fast enough. First, I head toward Omari, but in the end, I veer away from everyone, wishing only to be alone.

—They know, Zephyros says. Unguarded as I am, he’s able to sift through my thoughts and figure out exactly what upset me.

—They do, I say, hoping he’ll contradict me, tell me I’m jumping to the wrong conclusion.

He doesn’t .

—It’s over, Zephyros.

—No. The truth will prevail. He was a bad man and deserved to die for all he did.

I don’t miss the way he emphasized the word “all,” but I refuse to think about whatever he may be implying.

—They won’t let the truth be told. I invite him to look further into my thoughts, so he can see exactly what happened after my mother died because it seems he missed that part in his perusal through my brain.

—Damn them! He exclaims, making me jump at his sudden outburst. They are dishonorable. They do not deserve to walk Heratrix’s domain. I will kill them.

I take a seat on a rock, facing away from everyone to hide my distress.

—It’s my word and my father’s against a whole institution. We’ll both end up in prison.

— I know the truth.

—But without Weavers who will tell them.

—You are a Weaver.

—And that wouldn’t only send me to prison. It would land me in the gallows. You know that as well as I do.

Suddenly, he growls high on his perch. The sound reverberates through the mountain peaks, feeling like an earthquake. I whirl to face him and watch as he leaps off the ledge where he’s been quietly waiting for our incursion into Hearthdale. Everyone else turns too.

Zephyros flies in my direction, then starts circling overhead. From a different perch, Fragor takes to the air, too, going after Zephyros.

Goddess, what’s happening?

—What are you doing?! I demand my dragon. You’ll give away our position to the Screechclaws.

— I do not care. I am taking you with me, away from this place. Humans have made a mockery of our legacy for centuries. It was cowardly and corrupt human kings who feared Weavers that led to their persecution. Those men upset the balance we carefully crafted. I will not fight for this monarchy any longer.

I stare up at him, jaw unhinged.

— Zephyros… but your oath to protect Embernia, I say.

—For a long time, I have sat quietly and watched our values degrade for the enrichment of worthless men. No more! He roars, louder than the first time.

Someone grabs my shoulders and shakes me. “Answer me, Wyndward.”

I blink and lower my gaze to Vaylen.

“What is going on?” he demands.

I shake my head.

Vaylen looks all around, thoughts moving at a million knots per hour behind his eyes. Arriving at a decision, he shouts, “Everyone, we’re going in.”

He continues issuing instructions, but a voice I’ve never heard before rings inside my mind, a sound like a volcanic eruption. Dumbfounded, I realize it’s Fragor’s voice. He’s also circling above me, a distance above Zephyros.

—Zephyros, heed my order. Land now and calm yourself. You are letting anger control you once more.

I thought Weavers could only hear their own dragons’ thoughts, but it seems Fragor has been blocking me!

—You do not command me, Fragor, Zephyros spits . When will you understand that the day you abandoned my offspring was the day our old alliance ended?

What? Offspring? I barely have time to assimilate this latest information when a Vortex Lift starts under my feet, and I start to rise.

—No! I exclaim. Let me go.

—We’re leaving , Zephyros informs me.

—Leaving? Where would we go?

—The isles.

—And what? Hide there? For how long?

—Forever, if we have to.

—No, Zephyros. I can’t hide. That’s not who I am.

I start using my own wind power against his, pushing down on his Vortex Lift. I begin a shaky descent.

Vaylen is done issuing orders, and he’s facing me again, watching the tableau with bewilderment: Fragor, Zephyros, and I locked in some kind of strange struggle.

Zephyros redoubles his attempts to lift me, and I jerk upward—my strength nothing against his. I try to fight him back, but it’s no use, so I do the only thing I can. I beg.

—You can’t make me do something I don’t want to do. Please.

—I will protect you against your stupid loyalty to an Embernia that is no more.

—You have no right.

—I have every right. We are bonded, meant to protect each other.

—Zephyros, search my mind, my heart, and you’ll know I will never be happy if you take me against my will.

He’s quiet for a moment, though I continue to rise.

—You will die with a noose around your neck, he growls in frustration.

—Maybe, but I won’t run and live in shame.

In the distance, the sound of thousands of screaming high pitched voices tears through the sky. The hairs on my arms and neck stand on end. I’ve never heard this sound before—I’ve only read about it in books and evocative news sheet articles—but I know exactly what it is.

A Screechclaw horde is coming.

“Everyone, to the air!” Vaylen’s shouted order rides in the coats of that terrible screech.

I look down and find that he’s climbing on his own Vortex Lift.

“What in all the hells is going on, Rhealyn?” he demands as he reaches me.

“I don’t know,” I lie. He already knows I’m a murderess. I don’t need him to know I’m also a Weaver. The Sky Order’s rules tried to erase that part of me, and Vaylen is devoted to those rules. He’ll never understand why I had to lie.

I can tell he wants to ask me more, but instead he says, “We need to fight.”

He zips upward and smoothly lands on Fragor’s head. In seconds, he’s waving his arms in practiced signals, instructing the other Skyriders what to do. Almost everyone is mounted and ready to face the incoming threat. I stop fighting Zephyros and speed up my ascent. I land on his head and throw my Tethers out, eager to join the others.

—You wouldn’t run from a fight, would you? I ask.

—I do not run , he replies.

I smirk. Humans run. Dragons fly. It’s a common saying, and by using it he’s implying that he would never stoop to running. Not when he possesses such swift wings. Running is for bipeds.

But that’s not all, he’s also letting me know he will fight.

Wasting no time, I pull on a Tether, guiding Zephyros to bank right. He does and, joining the formation, we prepare for our first fight together.