Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
After a long night tossing and turning, I rise before the sun, careful not to wake Olive, who’s sleeping closest to me, or Helene, who snores softly from the other side of the room. The last thing I want to do is explain myself.
As quietly as possible, I rummage through my satchel in the dark until I find my small leather pouch. I untie the drawstring. With a deep breath, I pull out one of the compressed tablets Mother buys from her mysterious alchemist and place the remedy under my tongue. For a few seconds, nothing happens.
Even though I’ve taken the magic-suppressing pill for years, I brace myself for the reaction my body’s about to have.
As the chalky white tablet dissolves, the odd, spicy taste floods my mouth and invades my senses. Muscles clenched, I wait, counting down from ten in my head.
…three…two…one…
The next assault hits. Intense pain slashes through me, as if a sharp blade’s ripping my innards to shreds and hollowing me out. Teeth gritted, I ride out the torture without a sound.
At home, I’d shriek into my pillow.
Here, I don’t have that luxury.
At last, the agony subsides. Though the pain the medicine inflicts is terrible, the next part is even worse. The retreating ache leaves a suffocating numbness in its wake. Like a living entity inside me is stuffed into a tiny, airless, padlocked box stored someplace inaccessible. My muscles seize as my body thrashes against the sensation. I breathe through the claustrophobia, waiting for the worst to pass.
When it does, I shake out my arms.
I won’t be setting anything on fire today.
A horn blares, loud enough to make my ears ring. Olive shoots straight up in bed, while Helene mutters a curse.
Yawning, Olive offers me a sleepy smile. “Good morning.”
Helene huffs as she stumbles out of bed. “What’s so good about it?”
Clad in the same type of sleepwear assigned to me, a loose-fitting pair of navy pants and tunic, she rifles through her dresser and plucks out fresh clothing. She stomps past us to the door, undoubtedly in search of a feeble old woman to kick or a basket of kittens to drown. Though it’s also possible she’s headed for the bathing chamber down the hall.
I turn to Olive. “Not a morning person, huh?”
Olive rolls her eyes. “Or an afternoon or night person either.”
I hop out of bed chuckling, but my mirth soon fades when I change into my navy uniform. Today is my first full day at Flighthaven, and I’m not sure what to expect. My nerves only worsen as I accompany Olive to the mess hall for breakfast. Conversations halt, eating stops, and laughter quiets as soon as we walk in, each fledgling focused on us instead.
The anxious flutters in my stomach explode into writhing, like I swallowed a sack full of slugs. I lean in and drop my voice to a whisper. “Is it going to be like this all the time?”
She shrugs, and I get the impression she’s not bothered. “Not with our unit. I’m sure things will die down. I honestly don’t know if it’s you or me that’s?—”
Out of nowhere, a leg shoots out and trips me. Hot coffee splashes down the front of my shirt, burning as the liquid seeps into my skin. Laughter breaks out, and everyone resumes their chatter.
Spinning around, I find none other than the hulking noble I met yesterday. Elijah Durand.
His brown eyes widen in mock apology, and he sets his empty cup on a nearby table before giving an exaggerated bow. “I’m so deeply sorry. I hope your uniform isn’t ruined.”
From behind him, someone’s snicker quickly morphs into a cough.
So many eyes watch us. The weight of those stares crushes my courage. I grapple with the urge to cower, the swelling scorn scalding me worse than the coffee. It’s tough to appear dignified while soaked and dripping brown liquid all over the floor, but I do my best. I arrange my face into what I hope is a friendly expression. “No harm done.”
Brushing past him, I don’t miss his smug grin. Bastard.
Despite the suppressant I took earlier this morning, my fingertips begin to sting. Although I have little practice using my magic, intense emotion seems to affect it. And now is not the time to test the limits of the drug.
Olive hands me a cloth napkin, which I use to wipe up as much of the spill as I can, thanking the gods for the dark Flighthaven uniforms. “If you hurry, you can change and still get back in time to eat.”
Nodding, I snatch a muffin off my plate and head back to the dorms. After cleaning up and redressing, I dawdle long enough to miss the rest of breakfast. Cowardly, sure, but I don’t feel up to crossing swords with Elijah or Helene again before I step foot into my first class.
The same horn from earlier blares. From my lurking spot beneath a tree, I observe the other students as they leap to their feet in a flurry of motion, shoving their last bites of food into their mouths and stacking dirty plates in empty tubs. Locating Olive’s auburn hair in the herd of fledglings streaming out the doors, I fall in step by her side.
She slants me a grin. “You ready for your first class? Strength training. Exercises to build up our muscles so we can ride the alicorns and battle the Tirenese during flight.”
“Define ‘ready.’”
Sympathy softens her features. “Don’t worry, you’ll do fine.”
At least one of us has some confidence.
Following one of the paths that zigzag through the fields that separate the buildings, we trail a trio of students to a large rectangular structure. The main room is huge, close to the size of the Great Hall in my family’s castle. That’s where the similarity ends. Rather than gold, silver, and purpleheart wood adorning the interior, everything’s a solid gray—even the large mat that dominates the center of the room.
An older man with a thin but athletic build and short silver-streaked hair shoves two fingers into his mouth. The piercing whistle that follows makes me wince.
Students surge into motion. They fall into two neat horizontal rows, shoulders pulled back, eyes front, chins high. I follow their lead, taking a spot next to Olive.
When the silver-haired man turns his attention to those fledglings on the far left second line, I whisper to Olive. “Who is he?”
Eyes on the instructor, she keeps her voice low. “Instructor Broderick Kinneck. He’s in charge of strength and conditioning. Fair, but kind of a hard-ass. Try not to piss him off.”
Great. Another hard-ass like Thorne. Was there a buy one, get one free special or something?
Kinneck whistles again. If the training doesn’t kill me, that shrill noise might. “On the mat. Now . Give me fifty push-ups.”
My heart sinks. Upper body strength is not one of my strong points.
Mimicking the students around me, I drop to the floor. I stick my legs straight out behind me, bend my elbows, flatten my palms on either side of my head, and then push until my chest rises and my arms are straight.
One.
Grunts fill the room. The other fledglings race through their repetitions like it’s as natural as walking. Not me. I’m much slower and can feel my arm muscles burn by the fifth repetition. By the tenth push-up, they’re shaking. Enough that I already need to take a break.
Kinneck’s polished black boots appear by my head. “Fledgling Axton, what are you doing?”
“Push-ups. Sir.”
He toes my ribs. “Are you sure? Because it looks like you’re napping. Are you napping, Fledgling Axton?”
Snickers break out to both my left and right. Olive makes a worried moan.
“No, sir.” Gritting my teeth, I struggle to lift my torso again. I’m wobbling worse than earlier.
“Good, because there’s no napping in my class.” Kinneck’s voice booms through the cavernous room. “Push, Axton! Push .”
By the time I complete my twentieth push-up, sweat drenches me, my head spins, and my ears buzz. A wave of fatigue sweeps my body, a common occurrence when I’m physically active. Most of the other fledglings have already finished, including Olive. Their eyes bore into me, urging me to dig deep down and find more strength. I manage five more before I rest on the mat, panting.
Kinneck claps his hands. “Let’s count Axton through the remainder of her repetitions. Twenty-five more. If she takes another break before finishing, I’m adding another twenty for everyone else.”
If I felt eyes on me before, the attention is far worse now. The other fledglings gather in a circle around me, nailing me with disgusted glares and sneers. Their voices form a disgruntled chorus. “One. Two. Three.”
My arms ache, and I’m sweating buckets. I give the exercise my all, pushing through the fire in my muscles to straighten my quivering arms. I can’t fail. If I do, the entire class pays the price. Then even the ones who don’t hate me on sight will.
“Ten. Eleven. Twelve.”
Only thirteen more, then I can stop. I can do this.
I struggle through one more rep. Two. On the third, my arms give out and I collapse face-first. Attempting to straighten the limbs again feels like someone spearing my muscles with a red-hot poker. Demoralized, I groan my defeat into the gray mat. Outraged howls follow.
“No!”
“Are you serious? What kind of weakling are you?”
“Maybe we should make her go missing too.”
The jeers are plentiful, but it’s that last one, uttered by a male voice, that prompts me to sit up and check for the source. It proves an impossible task considering just about every fledgling besides Olive looks like they’d be happy to chuck me into a dragon’s mouth.
Kinneck whistles. “Alright, fledglings. Drop and give me an extra twenty.” While bodies hit the mat on either side of us and begin another round, Kinneck glares at me. “Next class, you’ll do better.”
Or else. Though he doesn’t verbalize the warning, I hear it. I nod, trying not to stress about how in the hells I’m supposed to pull fifty repetitions out of my ass before our next session.
The remainder of the exercises play out in much the same way, with me struggling and Kinneck tacking on extras to the class on my behalf. If I thought the ugly glances and whispers were bad before, they’ve got nothing on the animosity currently aimed my way. By the time Kinneck leads us outside to a field to line up for sprints, the expressions on most of my classmates’ faces indicate they’d gladly toss me off the nearest turret. I’m hoping the sprints will go better since I race up and down the castle stairs several times a day.
On the first sprint to the fence and back, I do okay, even though I’m panting harder than the others. By the third one, I struggle to catch my breath, and that’s before a root bursts from the ground out of nowhere to trip me. I fall hard, scraping my palms and bruising my dignity as some of my peers chuckle. A quick peek lets me know that Kinneck either didn’t notice or doesn’t care that another fledgling used elemental magic against me, so I jump to my feet, dust myself off, and launch right back into the exercise.
By the fifth sprint, my mouth waters and my stomach churns, and by the seventh, I double over and heave my breakfast onto the ground.
Kill me now. Please.
Kinneck strides over. “Fledgling Axton, this is no time to watch the grass grow. Run, Axton! Run .”
I wipe my mouth on my sleeve, stumbling forward. Tears sting my eyes, and my throat aches, but I don’t cave to my emotions. Steeling myself against the nausea and endless pain shrieking through every part of me, I run and run and freaking run.
Forget about making it through the next month. I’ll be lucky if I survive the day .
Geography follows our conditioning class. I collapse into a chair next to Olive in the round lecture room. Every single inch of my body hurts, and it’s all I can do not to put my face on the table and fall asleep. The only thing keeping my head up and my eyes open is the threat of our current instructor copying Kinneck and assigning everyone extra work because of me. As it is, a fellow fledgling tripped me on the walk over, and another one used air magic to shove me into the door as we shuffled in. I can already feel an ugly bruise forming on my shoulder.
Instructor Scalor is a petite blond woman with pale, freckled skin and piercing hazel eyes. She wears a smart navy uniform with gold trim on the neck and sleeves of her top. Standing at the podium, she waits for everyone to settle before speaking. “At the end of last session, I asked you to read about the topography of some of the far Northern kingdoms. Who can tell me about the topography of Northern Volox?”
She gestures at a student in the front row, and I do my best to pay attention as the discussion begins. By the end of class, I’ve learned about the glaciers, ice-covered mountain ranges, and the treacherous crevices located within them that are features of the far Northern kingdoms, and I’ve studied cartographers’ renderings of the area. The class is interesting enough to keep me from nodding off, though my mind still wanders.
Lunch comes next. After puking up breakfast, I should be eager for food, but I’m not. My legs wobble like jelly, and I’d love nothing more than to shower and crawl into bed. Too bad the day’s not even halfway over.
Once we grab our meals, Olive leads the way to the table. Two men sit in the chairs next to ours. I recognize them from last night at the mess hall.
Setting her tray down, Olive points her spoon at the lanky, dark-skinned one. “Lark Axton, this is Abel Rummon.” She swings her spoon to the other man, who possesses a broad chest and wavy brown hair. “And that’s Nick Pendrick. They’re the other members of our flight unit.”
Nick holds out his hand, and I take it. “Nice to meet you.” His greeting is curt, and a crevice forms between his brows as he studies me.
Abel gives a wordless nod, the ghost of a smile on his face.
As we eat, we fall into light conversation. I wait for one of them to mention Leesa, but neither does. Once I’m finished picking at my roasted chicken, I take matters into my own hands, setting my fork aside and knotting my fingers in my lap. “So, since she was part of your flight unit, you both must have known my sister Leesa pretty well. I’m hoping one of you might have a clue about what happened to her or where she vanished to.”
The two of them exchange a glance. Hope straightens my spine. Could it be as easy as this? Do they know something they’re willing to share?
Nick shakes his head. “I have no idea where Leesa went. If I did, I would have already reported it to Commander Bigley.”
Abel scrapes up his last bite of chicken. “Me either.” His expression softens when I deflate against my chair. “There was no blood found…no body. That’s a good sign.”
No blood or body found . That doesn’t mean someone didn’t take Leesa far away from Flighthaven to murder her. Or dump her at the bottom of the ocean. Or feed her to a hungry dragon. Stab and hide her in the eyril fields. “You didn’t hear anything at all about where she might have gone?”
They trade a longer look before Nick shrugs. “We hear plenty, from people who like to stir up drama. It’s all absurd conjecture and rumor.”
Abel drums his fork and knife on the table. “He’s right. For example, I heard someone say Leesa left because she wanted to become a baker. All based on her complaining that the last batch of apple-spice cake was too dry.” He yelps a moment later and drops his utensils to rub his ankle. “What the hells, Nick? What was that for?”
Nick swallows a bite of his food. “You were shaking the table again.”
Abel glances down at his hands. “Was I? Oops.” With a clandestine wink at Olive, he grips the cutlery and begins drumming again.
A muscle tics near Nick’s right eye.
Olive traps Abel’s hand to the table by placing hers over his. “Children. Let’s not keep this going until one of you ends up with a fork to the eye. Sorry, Lark. What were you saying?”
“Do any of you at least have an idea of when Leesa disappeared? The missive gave us a day, but that’s it. Was it morning? Afternoon? Evening? Do you know who saw her last?”
Olive holds up a finger while she finishes a sip of water. “The day before she went missing, she went to all her classes as usual. After dinner, I only saw her briefly in passing before I fell asleep. I wasn’t feeling well that day and went to bed early. When I woke up the next morning, she was gone. I didn’t see her in the mess hall for breakfast, and she didn’t show up to her first class.”
“What about Helene? Did she see Leesa go to bed that night?”
Olive shakes her head. “No, but that’s not unusual. In the week or two prior to that night, Leesa was often the last one back to the room before bed.”
“Was that typical for her?”
Olive hums and traces her eyebrow with her thumb. “Now that you ask, no, not really. It seemed like maybe she had something on her mind.”
The horn signaling the end of lunch trumpets. As we rise to carry our dirty plates, I make a mental note of my follow-up questions for later. Olive nudges me with her shoulder. “Leesa’s a badass, so try not to worry. It won’t help, and joining training this late in the game will be difficult enough as it is. At least give yourself a few days to settle in.”
She has a point. I need to learn the ropes at Flighthaven before I do anything else. With a sigh, I redirect my attention to our upcoming class. “What do we have next?”
“My favorite.” Olive’s eyes sparkle. “Flight training.”
My stomach cramps, the food souring in my gut. It takes everything in my power not to vomit for a second time today.