Chapter 30 Isi
ISI
Mine.
The word slid under my skin, turning the blood in my veins to fire. It was a claim I couldn’t shake—didn’t want to shake—no matter how hard I tried.
Sitting on the queen’s throne made me feel like I was stepping into a story I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a part of.
The silence between us buzzed with everything left unsaid.
This throne was never meant for me, but it had welcomed me anyway, as if it had been waiting.
I slid off the seat before I lost control.
“I need to get something to eat,” I said, though I doubted I could eat anything after what happened.
Crey had barely joined my team, and he was dead.
What kind of leader was I if I couldn’t keep people alive?
“I have strategy class soon,” I added as I leaped off the dais and fled across the throne room. “I don’t want to be late.”
Trew followed, his every step the kind of thunder that made my pulse skip.
The castle corridors stretched ahead of me, shadows pooling in corners like secrets waiting to be spilled. My heartbeat pounded not just from the need to escape, but from the memory of the possessive look in his eyes when he saw me sitting on the throne intended for his queen.
I glanced back to find him behind, his cinderhawk perched on his shoulder, its eyes as sharp as his.
The dining hall bustled with the clatter of trenchers, mugs, and bowls magically refilling, plus low conversation. I slid into a chair beside Lexie and nodded to the others.
“Discover anything?” Lexie lifted her eyebrows.
“Not much,” I whispered.
“Tell me what happened.”
“He questioned some people.”
I suspected whoever it was had tried to kill me.
Derren, sitting on Lexie’s other side, leaned in. “Crey was… They’ll take him to his family. He, uh, had a wife. A small daughter.”
Anger churned through me along with a hefty dose of grief. I hadn’t known him, but I didn’t need to be his friend to feel bad that he’d been killed in my place.
Sitting across from us, Maddox paid more attention to us than the food on his plate.
“Did you do it?” I asked in a deadly tone.
He actually looked shocked. “I didn’t kill Crey.”
I dragged my gaze from his.
Trew took his seat on the dais, the cinderhawk shifting on his shoulder, its wings twitching before it settled. The tic in his jaw had resurfaced.
Kira lounged in her chair beside him, angling her body toward his, leaning in with the smile she used like a blade.
But he didn’t look at her. Not even once.
His gaze stayed locked on me, as steady as his hand had been earlier around my wrist. When it became clear she wasn’t going to break through, the curve of her mouth cooled.
She cut me a look of half challenge, half warning, before turning to the woman on her other side.
I ate my meal, not allowing myself to look toward the dais again.
It was all I could do to listen to Malcolm’s lecture about battle strategies during class.
I sighed with relief when it was over and left the lecture hall with my friends, filing into the training hall for our first magical lesson.
The room felt colder than before, shadows spilling across the polished floorboards as we stepped into the middle of the room.
My friends stayed close, their companions padding at their sides, flying ahead, or riding on their shoulders. The space where mine should’ve been felt much too empty. No one commented about my missing minxpip. It was obvious enough.
I expected Trew to stride in and run the session, but Nia appeared instead, wearing her usual blue tunic and loose pants as she crossed to the center mat.
She stopped and swept her gaze over the group, using the kind of look that made new warriors straighten their spines whether they wanted to or not.
“Today we begin the first phase of your magical development,” she announced. “For some of you, this will feel natural. For others…” her gaze landed squarely on me, “less so.”
An itch poked between my shoulder blades, crawling under my skin. I glanced toward the viewing box, but torchlight glared off the glass, hiding whoever might be inside.
A chill wracked through me. Was someone watching again and, if so, would another weapon hurtle away from the wall and kill me this time?
But the way the skin at the back of my neck had gone hot told me a different story.
I’d bet anything Trew was up there. I didn’t need to see him to imagine his arms crossed on his chest, his mouth set in the unreadable line he wore when he was judging something and finding it wanting.
Before Nia could say anything else, teal-and-silver feathers flashed out of the corner of my eye.
The minxpip flitted into the hall and zipped over to hover in front of my face like a feral insect.
With a quick dip of her beak, she landed on my shoulder, her tiny talons digging into my leather tunic.
She fixed me with a stare that was far too shrewd for a bundle of fluff, her head tilting the way Trew’s did when he was trying to decide if something, or someone, was worth his time. And just like with him, there was no missing the quiet demand in her gaze.
Prove yourself.
Maddox studied the minxpip before snorting, the sound sharp enough to make my teeth ache. My friends ignored him, but my ears burned. Compared to their beasts, the little bundle of dander on my shoulder must look absurd.
Strangely enough, I didn’t quite see her that way myself. Perhaps this was related to the bond. Or I was softening.
Nia’s expression didn’t change, but her voice lightened a fraction. “Bonding is not about size or appearance. It’s about connection. Speak to your companion with your mind. Share something true.”
True?
I couldn’t share much of anything with this minxpip. My secrets didn’t just guard my life, they guarded my purpose. I had to keep my walls up at all times.
Still, I tried. I sent a thread of thought toward the minxpip, including a few simple questions, images, even a warm welcome, but her only answer was a vague sense of irritation. Like a cat flicking its tail.
The minxpip’s annoyance needled me, but not as much as the thought that Trew might be up there, watching me flail. He didn’t have to reveal he was there for me to see the judgment on his face.
If the bird was anything like her king, she wasn’t going to make this easy. She’d wait until I gave more than I wanted to, until I let her in. If I didn’t, she’d keep her distance.
Nia circled around the room, encouraging one recruit after another, until she stopped at my side. She watched us for a long moment.
“You’re holding back, Isi,” she finally said. “Your companion can feel the walls you’ve built. Let them down.”
Did Trew wish I’d drop my walls as well?
I shook my head, focusing on Nia. “It’s not that simple.”
If I opened my mental door all the way, she’d see more than I could risk. Every truth and all the lies I’d been living since I sobbed over my broken sister’s body. The fact that I was an enemy in their midst.
Here, being known could be as dangerous as being caught.
“It never is,” she said. “But it’s necessary. Until you show complete honesty with your companion, your magic together will be inconsistent at best. Risky at worst.”
My throat tightened. Honesty wasn’t an option. Not with anyone here, not even this cute little bird.
I tried again anyway, forcing my mental door open a crack, enough to send the minxpip a wisp of something unique about me. The irritation faded, then flared hotter.
With a blur, the minxpip launched herself from my shoulder and zipped across the room, slipping through the narrow gap of the open doorway.
She didn’t only leave the room. She left me.
My cheeks burned as I watched her vanish. If Trew had seen that, and fates, he probably had, I knew I’d find that knowing smirk on his face later, that I’d handed him another win in the push and pull game that continued between us.
Nia studied my face before patting my shoulder. “Give it time. Keep practicing loosening your mind, even when your companion isn’t with you. Then, when she is, open yourself up to her. It’ll feel effortless before you know it.” She gave me a stilted smile and turned toward someone else.
“Pair with your companions.” Her voice shot through the room as she lifted it, speaking to everyone at the same time. “Focus on aligning your breathing. Inhale together. Exhale together. Begin to feel that connection in your mind.”
I stayed where I was, my empty shoulder prickling as if the minxpip still clung there.
Around me, my friends worked with their beasts.
Bryson’s furless, puppy-sized creature with nubs for antlers hopped around with excitement.
Lexie’s fist-sized fuzzy badger peered into her face from her shoulder while she looked back.
I had no one. Nothing but the echo of teal-and-silver wings vanishing through the door.
Frustration curled in my gut, though I wasn’t only upset with the bird.
I was to blame. I’d essentially rejected her. Refused to open to her today as well, though I had a good reason.
I wasn’t welcoming the bond.
No wonder my minxpip was refusing to work with me.
When Nia clapped her hands for one of my friends, the sound snapped me back into the present. I forced my shoulders straight and set my jaw.
I’d watch what the others did. If my minxpip came back, I’d be ready. Surely I wouldn’t have to reveal everything to her to make this work.
As far as I knew, no one had been kicked out of the castle because they couldn’t solidify the bond with their companion, though I hadn’t exactly asked.
I moved to the far edge of the training hall, hoping being out of sight would make me look less like the lone failure in the room. My shoulder felt naked without the little creature’s warm, twitchy presence.