44. CHAPTER 44
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By the time my father left the courtyard, the weight in my chest hadn’t eased.
Even with his absence, the air still felt too thin, too sharp.
Featherwing didn’t linger in the shadows the way I wanted to.
Sadie looped an arm through mine, tugging me toward the edge of the crowd.
“You look like you saw a ghost, Auri. Come on. We’re still alive. Let’s act like it.”
“I mean, I have seen three dead people in the last three days. Soooo— I don’t think acting like it means I can breathe again,” I muttered, but I let her drag me anyway.
Micah appeared on my other side, a grin plastered across his face. “Did anyone else see it earlier? Professor Hildegard nearly got squished by Orix earlier when Akira couldn’t get him to stop banking in circles. It looked like Orix drank a little too many times.”
Akira shoved him from behind, scowling. “He listens, just… selectively.”
“Selective?” Lorenzo snorted, striding up with his usual swagger. “He nearly flattened half the practice field! The only thing he listens to is his own ego.”
“Like Rider, like flier,” Thora muttered, earning a chorus of snickers from the group.
Even I cracked a smile, the knot in my chest loosening a little. For a moment, it was just us again—bickering, teasing, then laughter.
Esme stirred in the bond, her tone rich with amusement. “You humans mock each other endlessly, yet it makes you closer. Strange. But… not unpleasant.”
“Hmm, I somehow feel like fliers are just as equally mean, just based off of you,” I shot back at her, shaking my head .
Zane drifted closer, his shoulder brushing mine.
He didn’t say anything, but the warmth of his bond wrapped around me, steady and reassuring.
For the first time all day, I felt my lungs fill completely.
The murders and threats weren’t forgotten.
But for this sliver of an evening, Featherwing was together, alive, loud—and maybe that was enough.
We should’ve gone straight back to our chambers. That’s what the orders said, anyway. But instead, most of Featherwing and Zane ended up shuffling in the small practice gym, the smell of leather and chalk dust thick in the air.
Micah produced a bottle from his satchel with a grin that made me want to roll my eyes. “Found this little treasure in the Healer’s wing storage closet. Pretty sure it was meant for tinctures, but, well—what’s medicine without a little fun?”
“Pretty sure that’s called malpractice,” Sadie muttered, but she still reached for the bottle first.
Lorenzo snatched it out of her hands. “If anyone’s going to test this for poison, it should be me. I’m already halfway invincible.” He tipped it back with an exaggerated flourish—then immediately doubled over, coughing.
“Invincible, huh?” Thora deadpanned, arms crossed. “Looked more like you swallowed a wasp.”
“It burns,” Lorenzo rasped, wiping his mouth and shoving the bottle toward her. “Your turn.”
Akira snatched it instead, sniffed, and winced. “Smells like turpentine.” She drank anyway, then hissed through her teeth. “Tastes like turpentine, too.”
Micah was rolling with laughter. “Oh, this is so much better than drills.” He raised the bottle high. “To Sandorg—may it not implode before we return.”
“To Sandorg,” Sadie echoed dryly, taking the bottle to take her swig like it was penance.
The bottle made its rounds, each of us coughing, wincing, or swearing in turn. By the time it landed in my hands, my stomach already hurt from laughing at the others .
Esme stirred faintly in the bond, her voice sharp with disdain. “You all willingly ingest liquid that tastes like paint. You’re all mad.”
“Maybe,” I thought back, “but it beats thinking about cadets hanging from walls.”
She huffed but didn’t argue.
I tipped the bottle and nearly choked on the burn. “Gods above, this could strip rust off armor.”
Zane took it last, his face blank as he downed a full swallow. He set it down calmly, cleared his throat once, and said, “tastes fine.”
We all groaned.
“Show-off,” I muttered, my face still burning from the alcohol.
“Bro, I’ve told you before, but you are feral,” Alex said.
Micah flopped onto the mat, arms spread wide. “If we survive history, murderers, and flight training it’ll be because of this bottle.”
“Or it’ll kill us first,” Lili added flatly.
“Either way,” Lorenzo wheezed, clutching his chest, “at least we’ll die laughing.”
And for the first time in days, we all forgot about what was surrounding us, and were present in the moment. The bottle had just made another shaky lap around the circle when the gym door creaked open. We all froze, like kids caught with our hands in the grain barrel.
Second Lieutenant Renwick leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, expression somewhere between bored and predatory. His eyes swept over the bottle, over Lorenzo’s flushed face, over Micah lying starfish on the mat.
“Well,” he drawled. “If this isn’t the picture of discipline.”
My stomach plummeted. Oh shit. I wasn’t even sure if he could discipline us, since we weren’t technically under his chain of command. He could run and tell any of the professors or the generals, but instead of ratting us out, Renwick walked in, boots clicking against the floor.
He reached into his coat, pulled out a battered silver flask, and held it up with two fingers. “Trade? ”
The silence broke all at once. Micah shot up like he’d been struck by lightning. “Gods bless the campus, you’re our favorite officer.”
Renwick smirked, kneeling and plucking our half-empty bottle from Lorenzo’s limp hand. He took a swig without flinching, then grimaced. “Gods, that tastes like varnish. Where’d you even find it?”
“Don’t ask,” Sadie said flatly, though her lips twitched.
Renwick poured a generous splash of his flask into the bottle. “Now this is fine whiskey. If you’re going to break the rules, at least don’t poison yourselves in the process.”
The smell hit immediately—warm, smoky, worlds better than the sharp burn from before. Lorenzo lifted it reverently. “Sir… you’re a saint.”
“Saints don’t drink with cadets,” Renwick replied dryly. “Luckily, I’m no saint.”
We laughed, too loud, too long, the kind of laughter that only came when fear had been riding you for too many days straight. Even Thora cracked a grin, and that alone felt like a minor miracle.
When the flask finally reached me, I took a cautious sip. The burn was still there, but it was smoother this time, heat rolling down my throat instead of clawing. “Better, but not great,” I admitted.
Renwick joined in like he was part of the group, lounging against the wall with his flask in hand, tossing out sharp quips that had us laughing louder than we should’ve.
I took everything in around me, from Lorenzo trying to juggle the bottle.
Alex pretended to duel a training dummy with a broom handle.
Renwick’s gaze lingered on Thora, and she smirked back at him.
I could see where that was going. I was that drunk female before.
By the time the bottle was empty, the two of them were sitting next to each other, making inappropriate jokes that made her cheeks pink and had him grinning like a wolf.
“Are we watching Thora flirt?” Sadie muttered under her breath.
“I didn’t think she knew how,” Akira whispered back.
The next thing I knew, we all staggered out into the hallway because, well, we were drunk.
Whose idea was this anyway? Renwick was walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Thora, the two of them laughing under their breath like conspirators.
Micah tripped over his own boots twice, Lorenzo sang something horribly off-key, and even Sadie was biting her knuckles to keep from cackling.
Alex and Lili were walking arm and arm, balancing each other, something I had seen them drunkenly do more times than I can count.
Zane was walking poised, like he was completely unfazed.
We must have looked like utter chaos tumbling through the stone corridors. Which is exactly when Corson stepped out from a stairwell, arms folded, his face like thunder.
“What in the hells is this?” His voice cracked like a whip.
We all froze. Even Renwick, who blinked once before straightening his coat. Like his rank didn’t supersede a Wing Commander.
Corson’s eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking from the empty bottle dangling from Lorenzo’s hand to Thora’s pink cheeks to Renwick himself. “Lieutenant. Cadets. Rooms. Now.”
No shouting. No punishments. Just that voice, sharp enough to slice us in half.
“Yes, sir,” Renwick said smoothly, tucking the flask back into his pocket, winking at Thora as Corson turned away.
She rolled her eyes—but the faint smile tugging at her lips gave her away. The moment Corson’s boots clicked out of earshot, the dam broke. We collapsed into each other, choking on giggles, trying to muffle them as we stumbled our separate ways down the hall.
“Best night,” Micah wheezed, clinging to Lorenzo’s shoulder for balance.
“Worst hangover incoming,” Sadie muttered, grinning, nonetheless.
“I am sure our fliers will make us all regret this while flying tomorrow,” Akira chimed in.
Thora grabbed Renwick and tugged him along, whispering something in his ear.
Something told me they were about to enjoy themselves a little too much.
I shook my head, my stomach aching from laughing too much.
For a little while, at least, the worries of what was happening didn't bother me.
It just felt like home. Zane grabbed my hand, and—
Darkness swirled us.
Lights flashed, and we were in his chambers.
“Wow… I am a little too tipsy for all that spinning.”
He let out a laugh. The most wonderful, perfect sound ever.
“I admit, I am a little tipsy myself. I haven’t roved before while drinking and was really hoping I didn’t fuck it up.” He laughed.
Still holding onto my hands, he stepped back a little and looked me up and down, as if taking me all in. I felt electricity swirling in my toes.