Chapter 14 Rhea #2
The words are almost a challenge. But it’s true. I chose to return, to face whatever comes next. I meet her gaze without blinking, pride pinned to my chest. Let her see I’m not afraid. Even if that’s a lie.
“Then I won’t have to put you in a cell while I send word to Emberton.
” Her eyebrows twitch upward. Is that approval?
“The King and the Chief Inspector need to be informed of your return immediately. Until I receive orders on how to proceed with your... situation, you’ll remain at Fort Ashmire under High Prime Stormsong’s supervision. ”
I smooth my hands down my thighs, relief flooding through me. No cell. No chains. Just the watchful eye of a man who claims to love me. I can work with that.
“Thank you, Commander.” The words are sincere despite my usual aversion to gratitude. “I have no intention of running. There’s nowhere to run to, anyway. Not when I need answers more than anything else.”
The Commander drums her fingers on the desk, looking between Vaylen and Phoebe. “I suppose now’s as good a time as any to mention that Skysinger Breezehart has been conducting research into your disappearance for the past year.”
I turn to Phoebe, eyebrows shooting up. “Research? What kind of research?”
Phoebe shifts in her chair, suddenly fascinated by her boots. A flush creeps up her neck, turning her pale skin blotchy red beneath those copper freckles.
“She requested special access to the royal archives, and we granted it to pacify King Craven,” Commander Voltguard continues, irritation lacing her voice.
“Sometimes it seems she spends more time with dusty scrolls than with her dragon. She has a theory.” The Commander pauses, her expression suggesting she’s tasted something sour.
“That you were taken by the Goddess herself.”
“I… what?” I sputter, nearly choking on air. “Heratrix? You think the missing dragon queen snatched me up and, what, took me on a year-long holiday?”
Phoebe finally looks up, her green eyes bright with embarrassment but also that familiar scholarly intensity I’d almost forgotten about. “The mountain opened, Rhea. It opened. That’s ancient magic, the kind only seen during Heratrix’s time, according to lore.”
“Wyrm’s rot,” I mutter, memories clicking into place. Phoebe’s head buried in books at Sky Edge’s library, confessing her interest in the Goddess. “You might be taking your interest in Heratrix a little too far,” I say, shaking my head.
“Not as far-fetched as you might think,” Phoebe interrupts, leaning forward with sudden intensity.
“Lore describes Heratrix’s power to reshape mountains, to bend earth to her will, and more.
She could control all the elements. What happened in Hearthdale matches ancient accounts.
And the man too. The Goddess and her rider disappeared together, per a reference I found at Sky’s Edge just two days ago. ”
I press my fingers to my temples. The man’s voice echoes in my mind.
Omneira.
Could there really be a connection?
Commander Voltguard sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “As much as it pains me to encourage this madness, Breezehart, you’ll continue your research. And Wyndward, you’ll help her.”
“What? Why?” I blurt out as Vaylen straightens in his chair.
“Because I’m sure King Craven won’t lose interest in this case. Now less than ever.” The Commander’s features harden. “Your mysterious reappearance will only intensify his… curiosity. Trust me when I say he won’t be amused by I don’t remember as an answer.”
A realization hits me like ice water. “He’ll think I’m lying.”
“Of course he will,” she agrees. “And when kings believe people are lying to them, those people tend to disappear permanently.”
My throat tightens. I glance at Vaylen, whose face remains carefully neutral, though I catch the slight tensing of his jaw.
Heratrix, the missing dragon queen? The idea seems absurd.
I don’t want to spend days with my nose buried in ancient scrolls, staring at faded ink until my eyes cross.
I’ve never been good at sitting still, never mind research.
But the mountain did split open. That much is true, and if not through Heratrix’s power, then whose?
I finally nod. “I’ll help with the research. Not like I have a better option if I want to find out what happened, which I do.”
Phoebe’s face lights up like she’s just been given a dragon egg of her own.
“But,” I add quickly, leaning forward, “I want to get back into the fight as soon as possible. The Screechclaws aren’t going to kill themselves.
I’ve been gone too long already while our people are dying.
” The words taste bitter in my mouth. A year of battles missed.
A year of dragons and comrades lost while I was. .. wherever I was.
Commander Voltguard’s eyes travel from my face down to my too-thin body, her expression skeptical. I resist the urge to cross my arms over myself. Yes, I look like shit. I know that.
“You’ll need to regain your strength first, Wyndward,” she says, not unkindly. “You’re in no condition to face Screechclaws as you are now.”
Hope flickers in my chest. She hasn’t dismissed the idea outright. “I can get back to fighting form quickly.”
“You can certainly do that,” she agrees, then her expression hardens. “But you’ll need to shake off that murder accusation before you’re allowed back as an official member of the Sky Order.”
And there it is. The obstacle I knew was coming.
“So I’m just supposed to sit around waiting for the King or whoever to decide my fate?” I snap, rising from my chair. “While our dragons are dying and Screechclaws tear us apart?”
“Skysinger Wyndward,” Vaylen warns.
I try, but I can’t contain the frustration burning through me. “This is wrong and you know it, Commander. You need every Skyrider you can get.”
“What I need,” Commander Voltguard says, her voice cutting like steel, “are Skyriders I can trust not to be arrested mid-battle by some overzealous Chief Inspector.” She stands, planting both palms on her desk. “In the meantime, your alternative is a cell in Emberton. Would you prefer that?”
I swallow hard, anger burning my throat like dragon fire. My fists clench as I force myself to take a deep breath. Then another. Silence stretches taut between us.
“No,” I finally say, the single word costing me more pride than I care to admit. “I don’t prefer a cell in Emberton.”
Commander Voltguard studies me, her face unreadable. I brace for the reprimand I know is coming, shoulders tensing.
“I’ll allow this outburst, Skysinger, because I understand what you’re going through.” Her voice softens slightly, though her posture remains rigid. “Losing a year of your life, returning to find everything changed… I can sympathize with your frustration.”
I blink, surprised by this unexpected show of compassion.
“However,” she continues, the softness gone, “the Sky Order has a code of discipline that I hope you haven’t forgotten during your.
.. absence.” She straightens to her full height, the gold dragon-scale embroidery making her look regal.
“I will enforce that code, regardless of your unique circumstances. Is that understood?”
The temptation to snap back burns in my chest. To ask what good their precious code does when Neutros maim children, and the King behaves like an insecure toddler. But Vaylen’s steady presence beside me is a silent reminder of what’s at stake.
“Understood, Commander,” I reply, the words clipped but respectful.
I sink back into my chair, legs suddenly weak. I’ve faced down Screechclaws and survived a year of who-knows-what, yet here I am, chastened like a Claw fresh from the Academy. The humiliation stings, but I swallow it down as I know I should.
There’s a chain of command I won’t subvert.
The power I’ve always wanted is still very much mine.
I’m bonded to Zephyros, and he’s more loyal to me than I ever could have imagined.
I want safety and change for Embernia, and justice for anyone the Cleansing Authority has wronged.
Maybe I can be that change if I play this game right.