42. CHAPTER 42
The tension in the stadium classroom was already sharp when Feather Wing filed in.
Still, it snapped taut the moment Professors Melamora, Fogg, and Pascal entered together, their faces saying there wasn't anything good to announce.
Behind them was a group of second lieutenants.
I scanned each of them fast. As my gaze fell on the last one, my eyes widened, and my stomach dropped.
Fuck. This can't be happening. I dropped my head quickly, hoping he didn’t notice me either. We had only released some steam together a few times before I left for here. Maybe he wouldn’t remember me.
Melamora stepped forward first, her dark purple robes whispering against the floor, her expression carved from stone. “Due to the recent… incidents, leadership is taking precautionary measures.”
Fogg crossed his arms, his deep voice booming in the vaulted space. “All students—except first-year Riders, all Wing Commanders, Executive Officers, and Platoon Leaders—will be leaving the campus today.”
A wave of shocked gasps rolled through the benches. My stomach dropped.
Professor Pascal raised a hand for silence, his tone clipped but clear. “You have until fifteen-hundred hours to get off the campus grounds. Extra trains have already been arranged in Chalahana, with departures at ten hundred, twelve hundred, thirteen-thirty, and fifteen hundred.”
A cadet from the back shouted, “So we’re being thrown out?” Melamora’s eyes flashed. “You are being sent home—for your safety. You all were being sent home in six days anyway. There will be no further debate.”
The room broke into whispers and protests anyway .
“What about winter solstice celebrations?”
“What if we don’t have anywhere to go?”
“They can’t do this!”
Professor Fogg slammed his palm down on the lectern, the crack silencing half the room. “You will obey your orders. If you do not have a place to go, you can see one of your professors who will help arrange something for you.”
Pascal stepped in again, calmer but no less firm.
“Except for the first-year Riders, the rest of the lectures have been cancelled for you to go and pack your bags for leave.” His eyes swept the rows of first-year Riders, landing on me for a fraction of a second.
“Those of you who remain… will not be idle. You are expected to continue your training, and you will be watched. The remaining cadet leadership will need to assist your cadets in their departure. This evening there will be a leadership meeting after the campus is closed, this will include the first-year Flight Guides who will remain.”
The words sent a shiver down my spine. Melamora’s gaze raked across the hall, daring anyone to speak. “Dismissed. Begin preparations immediately.”
The room erupted.
Cadets scrambled for the aisles, some furious, some frightened, some pale with relief. Shouts and questions tangled together, boots pounding down the stairs. A few already ran for their chambers, desperate to pack.
I sat frozen in my seat, heart hammering. In the span of a breath, half the academy was being scattered, sent home early. Had this ever happened before?
Leaving the rest of us—the ones with fragile bonds that needed to be tended to before we could leave.
The ones that had fragile magic manifesting within our skins, waiting to explode.
Extreme duress was enough to trigger it, which made me believe that some of us would be channeling quicker than we should.
And what if the murderer wasn’t someone who was being ordered to leave? That would leave our small group to pick from. What if it was a Rider? No, it couldn’t be. A flier wouldn’t allow it .
The benches scraped and thundered as cadets poured toward the exits, a storm of panic and outrage.
“They can’t just throw us out!”
“What about exams?”
“Gods, I don’t actually know if my family is home yet”
“Good riddance, I’m not staying here to be strung up like the rest.”
“I hope this shit is figured out before we get back.”
Feather Wing moved together, swept in the tide of bodies funneling toward the doors. I tried to match their pace, but my legs felt heavy, my chest tight with a panic I couldn’t quite name. Everyone leaving—the noise, the fear, the tension—it was like watching the college splinter before my eyes.
As I started to move with my wing, I saw him approaching. Shit. I almost forgot about him with the professors turning our world upside down.
“Hey Auri!” he said.
Damn it. I knew Zane would be joining me soon.
I turned to him “Hello, Lieutenant McGrath.”
“Ahh c’mon you know you can call me Orrin.”
Sadie, Lili, Micah, and Thora had all stopped, noticing that I had stopped. Gods this could go to shit fast.
“Ah, who's your friend?” Sadie asked.
“Someone I knew from Zion Outpost.”
He gave them all a smile then said, “hmmm a little more than just knew.”
Micah cringed and locked his eyes behind me. I didn’t need him to say anything to know Zane was approaching—
A hand interlocked with mine. Orrin's eyes dropped down to our hands.
“Oh, I see. I guess asking if you wanted to throw some drinks back and have some fun is out of the question,” Orrin said. He was so fucking cocky.
My cheeks rushed with flaming heat, heart beating faster. I am sure everyone around us could see my bright red cheeks against my pale skin. Anger coursed down the bond, and it wasn’t mine .
“Yeah… no. She will not be having any fun with you,” Zane said. His voice steady, cold, calculating. No one here would guess that his anger was surging between us.
“Sorry. No disrespect. I’ll see myself to my duty,” Orrin said.
“See you around,” I said.
“Yeah… I am also going to go, this is not the conversation I am staying for. I have witnessed this way too many times,” Lili said.
“Wow. Thanks…” I said.
She turned and headed out. Sadie, Micah, and Thora took that opportunity to also leave.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just pulled me into him, his arms closing around me in the middle of the storm. His chest was solid against mine, the steady thrum of his heartbeat grounding me when everything else felt like it was unraveling.
“You know, I am not a possession. I have a past, as do you.”
“Sorry if I overstepped. You are happy to get drinks with him, but the fun he was insinuating won't be happening. And yes, I am aware we both have a past. I have to see yours every day.”
“I have never hidden that I was wild before… You and I are real. So very fucking real. I would never do anything to disrespect you. No one will have my eyes the way you do. You have to trust that.”
“I will try to do better and give you that autonomy. Sometimes my jealousy takes over. I never had a problem with sharing before, but you… I don’t want to share. I love you, Auri.”
“I also don’t want to share, the thought of another female swooning you makes me nauseous.”
“Well as you said, no one will or has ever had my eyes the way you do.”
The flood of cadets shoved past us, their voices echoing down the halls, footsteps pounding down each side of the hallway.
It already felt different. Thinner. Unsteady.
Like the bones of something hollowing out from the inside.
And I couldn’t shake the thought that we’d just been left behind in a game no one else wanted to play.
After what felt to be a hundred heartbeats, he let go of his grip on me.
He rested his lips onto my forehead, both of us soaking in the moment before we carried our day on.
“It will be chaotic today, but I will find you. Stay safe, my Anam Cara.”
“I love you, Zane.”
***
By afternoon, the campus felt half-dead. Chamber doors gaped open, shutters banging as cadets hauled trunks down stairwells. The echo of hurried boots and carriage wheels still carried from the outer gates as Feather Wing trudged onto the flight field.
Professor Hildegard was already waiting, broad-shouldered, arms crossed, his pale hair bound in a tight braid that snapped in the wind.
His voice carried across the field like a whipcrack.
“Mount up. No excuses. The sooner you learn to fly, the sooner you can leave the ground when danger finds you. Today, we test your grip and your stomach. You can use your pommel. We will work on core strengthening when you all return.”
Esme crouched low as I cinched the saddle straps. Her silver eyes glittered with anticipation, her amusement curling through the bond . “Tight banks. Tight circles. Excellent. I’ll enjoy this.”
I groaned, “I was afraid you’d say that.”
He whistled, which had to be part magic, making my head twitch.
Feather Wing launched in a storm of beating wings and sparks.
Sera blazed, Micah laughing like it was the greatest day of his life.
Korra cut arcs sharp enough to shear the wind, and Sadie pressed low, fierce and steady.
Orix dove into wide spirals that tightened without warning, forcing Akira to cling like a ragdoll.
Esme soared straight before banking hard left without warning. My stomach lurched, the world tilting. My grip slipped on the pommel, teeth clacking together as I fought for balance, thighs screaming with the strain.
“Hold,” Esme urged, laughter bright in my head. “Feel the pull. Lean with me, not against me. ”
I tried. Gods help me, I tried. The circle narrowed, the ground rushing closer as she carved another brutal arc. My braid whipped loose, eyes watering, but that time I found her rhythm, body flowing with the turn instead of fighting it.
“Closer! Tighter!” Hildegard roared from the field, his voice cutting through the thunder of wings. “If you can’t bank a circle, you’ll never survive a dive under fire! Again!”
Sylari bellowed as Erik nearly toppled sideways, clinging with both hands. Lorenzo cursed so loud that half the wing laughed when Syth’s bank slammed him against the saddle horn.
Thora and Sylivia, naturally, looked carved from perfection—circles clean, seamless, mercilessly precise.
By the fourth lap, my lungs burned, arms ached, and thighs shook with every shift of pressure. Esme’s exhilaration only climbed, her joy fizzing through me like lightning, a stark contrast to my trembling muscles.
When Hildegard finally whistled again, I sagged forward, every muscle screaming.
“Better,” Hildegard barked. “But not enough. Not yet. Remember that, if you find danger while flying home, you need to be prepared for your dragon to get you somewhere safe, and quick. See you all tomorrow.”
Esme rumbled smugly beneath me as I slid down her shoulder, legs wobbling when I hit the dirt, “you’ll thank me later.”
“For the bruises?” I groaned.
“For the wings,” she purred.
The dining hall felt hollow without the upper years. The clatter of trays echoed too loudly against the stone, and empty tables stretched like broken teeth. Unusually, Feather Wing’s usual noise was also muted, and cadets hunched close together, voices low. No one lingered long.
The afternoon passed in Professor Yan’s workshop. Chalked measurements turned into leather cuts. The stiff hides spread across the worktables. My fingers ached by the end of it, but for once the work was almost soothing—something steady in a world gone unsteady .
Professor Yan and her spouse moved tirelessly from bench to bench, correcting grips, trimming edges, reminding us that every stitch mattered. She swore that our own saddles would be done soon, and I almost believed her.