Chapter 4
Chapter Four
The reality is, in fact, just as scary. I grip the lip of the carriage window, my heart stuttering at the scene before me. Vast. That’s the first word that pops into my head when the campus emerges before us. Flighthaven sprawls across an expansive stretch of land. An army of formidable stone buildings and structures rise from the ground and form two loose rings. Training fields fill in the middle, along with pathways that shorten the distance between buildings on opposite sides.
The second word that comes to mind? Forbidding. Jagged, bleached cliffs curve to create the western boundary, stretching upward like giant teeth chomping on the dark gray clouds. To the east, dense forest gobbles the open space, and ancient trees lurk like silent sentries.
With a jerky motion, the carriage comes to an abrupt halt by an enormous iron gate. A tall man in a sharp navy uniform standing guard approaches the driver. “Name, please.”
From up top, Belton answers. “Lady Lark Axton.”
The guard shoots a glance at me through the window and nods. “Stop here and unload all belongings inside the gate.”
Belton hops down from the driver’s seat and goes to collect my bag. Otis exits the carriage and extends his hand to me. My clammy palm slips in his as I climb out and follow Belton. Salty air, carried from the ocean waves that crash against the far side of the cliffs, tease my nose. Belton hauls my satchel past the iron gate and sets it on the ground.
My new reality starts to sink in. “Uh, guess this is it. Have a safe trip home.”
Belton murmurs “good luck” and heads back to the carriage.
Otis lingers and wraps a calloused hand around my shoulder. “This must all seem intimidating now, but you’ve got this.”
I scoff. “Do I?”
His kind eyes reprimand me. “Just remember…your body may fight you sometimes, but you’re strong where it counts. Here, and here.” First, he knocks his knuckles on his skull, then over his heart. “You’re the finest lady I’ve ever had the privilege of working for, and you’re a fighter. You can do this.”
Emotion wells in my throat. “Thank you.” I sniffle, waving a hand in front of my eyes to fend off tears. “You’re not so bad for a guard either.”
With a quick shoulder squeeze and one last smile, he leaves me. I watch as he climbs up top to join Belton and the driver flicks his reins. When the bays lurch forward, I entertain a wild impulse to leap inside the carriage and hide until we arrive back to the safety of home. Then I remember my purpose— Leesa —and the desire fizzles.
I let Otis’s faith bolster me. I can do this.
With a loud clang, the iron gate shuts. Shaking off the ominous thought that I’ve just traded my figurative cage for a literal one, I turn to face my temporary residence.
Nerves flutter beneath my skin like butterfly wings.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I force myself to picture Leesa among the crowd, talking and laughing with friends as she heads to her next class. She’s always been a people person, and based on the tone of her letters, my sister thrived here. I open my eyes. Although my lips tilt up, the nagging fear I’ve had since I learned of Leesa’s disappearance quickly chases the smile away. During these last two days, the same questions have played over and over in my mind.
What in the hells happened to my sister?
Where is she? Did she run away? If so, why? Or did someone kidnap her?
What if she’s…dead?
I give myself a mental shake. If anyone can survive whatever it is that’s happened, it’s my clever, resourceful sister. She’s alive. She has to be. I refuse to believe anything else.
Leesa once told me that an ancient castle stood on the grounds long ago, and that some of the ruins went into Flighthaven’s construction. I can believe it. Many of the buildings feature intricate carvings in stone weathered enough to have existed in the time of the gods.
I’m so far out of my depth, I might as well be at the bottom of the Darkmoor Sea. The campus is a far cry from Castle Axton, and I’m not sure where to begin my search. As I tip my head back to check out a tower offering a panoramic view of the grounds, my toe snags the hem of my long silky gown and I stumble, flinging my arms out for balance.
This cursed dress.
I knew I should have braved Mother’s horror and worn the breeches.
A long wooden structure stands to the right of the massive stone building. Topped by a slanted roof embedded with iron, it resembles the horse stable at our castle, albeit ten times the length. I suspect the place houses animals other than horses.
An icy knot forms in my throat.
Past the stable, an immense stone building sprawls out in the middle of a dirt clearing and rises higher than my family’s castle.
Low rumbling comes from that direction, similar to the sound of a thunderstorm still a village away. The ground trembles beneath my feet. Despite the distance, the vibration rattles my stomach.
Dragons.
My attention flits from that to the streaks of black and brown overhead. A group of four alicorns soars on the wind, carrying riders on their backs and flapping their massive wings.
My stomach roils. No puking. If I show weakness so soon, I’ll be eaten alive.
“Fledgling Lark Axton.”
Whirling, I face the owner of the clipped voice.
The woman standing before me reminds me of a marble statue with her stiff posture and rigid spine. Her facial expression is a mask. Although intelligence burns in her light gray eyes, they’re devoid of emotion. Her short wheat-colored hair barely brushes her ears, and she’s dressed in the same spotless uniform as everyone else. The garments skim her figure like a second layer of skin, without one wrinkle or crease. The gold emblem below her left shoulder marks her as a flyer, the rank above fledglings indicating graduates of Flighthaven’s initial training program.
With an almost imperceptible nod, she directs her unsettling gaze at me. “Welcome to Flighthaven. I’m Flyer Quinnelle. Follow me.”
She pivots, taking off before I can protest. “Wait. My bag.”
I shoulder my satchel and hurry after Flyer Quinnelle.
Lugging my heavy satchel, I struggle to keep up with the woman’s long strides. I attempt to come up with something—anything—to break the ice. “This place is…massive.”
No comment. I wonder if Flyer Quinnelle hates everyone at first, or if I’ve just managed to piss her off.
I clear my throat and try again. “Have you been here long?”
She stops, spinning back around to face me. “‘Have you been here long, Flyer Quinnelle ?’”
I guess that answers my earlier question. I’m barely out of the carriage and someone at Flighthaven already despises me. Off to an excellent start.
Working to maintain my smile, I drop the burdensome satchel to the ground. “Right, sorry. Flyer Quinnelle.”
Sweat dribbles down my back, and my shoulder already aches. I hope my cheeks aren’t as flushed as they feel. Quinnelle won’t like me any better if she witnesses my weaknesses.
The faint wrinkle over her nose as she inspects my face tells me she doesn’t miss a thing. “Although you’ve come to us late in training, Fledgling Axton, you’ll be required to start where your sister left off.” Quinnelle pins me with her frigid stare. “Her flight unit’s been together for six weeks, and your sister’s absence means they’re missing a fire elemental. You’re expected to catch up.”
Catch up? How in Valk’s name am I supposed to do that? My startled laugh carries a high-pitched, hysterical note. “There must be some mistake. I know Leesa was likely an exemplary student and excelled here at Flighthaven, but I’m not like her. In fact, we should consider me the opposite. There’s no way I can jump right in and fill her place after missing the first six weeks.”
Flyer Quinnelle stares down her nose at me. “I suggest you figure out a way quickly. Flighthaven doesn’t have time to cater to pampered nobles who lounge around stuffing their faces and dancing when they should have been preparing themselves.”
Frustration squeezes my throat. I’m not an oracle. I didn’t predict Leesa’s disappearance. Until we received the missive, I never dreamed of attending Flighthaven. How could I? I failed all my magic tests, save for the most recent one, and even then, my performance was dismal.
I dig my fingernails into my palms and bite back a sharp retort. I’d like to see Quinnelle prepare for the king’s royal flight academy in two gods-cursed days. Oh, excuse me. Make that Flyer Quinnelle . If that rod up her ass gets any longer, she’s liable to poke a hole through her heart.
Careful. Best not to annoy the first person you meet.
“Will I receive extra training?”
She casts a sidelong glance at my dress, her eyebrows lifting in disapproval. “Your instructors will make that decision.”
I nod, fighting the urge to hunch my shoulders and make myself smaller.
She starts walking again. “Grab your belongings. I’ll give you a brief tour of Flighthaven.”
She points out the main building, a towering structure hosting offices and classrooms, then moves on to the rectangular, three-story structures with evenly spaced windows that make up the dorms. Beyond them is an armory housing various weapons and equipment and a storage facility.
To the right of the main building is an impressive expanse of land divided into multiple sections where exercises and practical lessons are conducted. In the distance, by a cliff, is the magic training area. Then she points out the dragon aerie and the stable I spotted earlier. Like I guessed, the single-story structure houses alicorns.
As I take everything in, she indicates several more buildings, including the commissary, infirmary, and mess hall, as well as an eyril production center.
A moment later, I realize I’m alone, with Quinnelle headed toward the stable. The last thing I want to do is piss her off more, so I gather my dress in one hand and jog to catch up.
Inside one of the fenced structures, a solid black alicorn’s nostrils widen from its quickened breaths. I swear the majestic beast’s obsidian eyes are boring into my soul.
The creature stamps its hoof against the ground, sending bits of dirt and pebbles flying.
I flinch.
With its gaze locked on me, the animal—far larger than any ordinary horse—shakes its massive head. Then its enormous wings begin to unfurl, and I can’t decide what I find more horrifying, the wings or the lethal horn narrowed to a sharp point on top of the alicorn’s head.
My heart leaps…both at the animal’s magnificence and the danger it represents.
Taking a step back, I fight down rising alarm at the thought of having to ride one of these creatures.
I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, but the panic doesn’t subside. As my anxiety builds, my palms start to sweat.
Shit.
I’m about to have a full-blown panic attack in front of Quinnelle, the alicorn, and the handful of students milling about.
The thrumming whoosh of my heartbeat fills my ears, and my brain empties of everything except the urge to flee. I spin and bolt, desperate to put distance between myself and the terrifying creature.
I can’t do this. I can’t stay here and ? —
A hard, muscled body smacks into me, or maybe I smack into…him.
The impact knocks me off balance. My bag slips from my shoulder and goes flying. Strong hands grip my waist, and out of reflex, I grab onto a pair of muscled biceps to steady myself. My palms buzz from the skin-on-skin contact.
When I look up, my lungs seize.
The man holding me is incredibly attractive. No, attractive is too tepid a word, as well as a massive understatement.
Stunning. Breathtaking. Beautiful.
Can a man be beautiful?
I decide right here and now that yes, this man is downright gorgeous…and utterly dangerous.