Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
No one stirs when I sneak out of the dorms early the next morning while the darkness slowly releases the sky to the creeping gray-yellow light of dawn. A cool breeze caresses my face, tugging at the wisps of hair that threaten to escape my braid. I wish the air would sweep away my dread over my first private lesson with Thorne, but I doubt even one of the deadly windstorms that occasionally strike Aclaris and destroy businesses and homes would be strong enough for that task.
Although I arrive at the stable ten minutes early, he’s waiting outside, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. The picture of impatience.
I stifle a yawn with the back of my hand and ignore his body language. It’s too early to indulge his grumpy tendencies just yet.
Determined to get through the next hour, I give myself a mental pep talk.
Don’t engage. You can survive his attitude for an hour. One. Tiny. Hour.
I produce a sunny smile. “Good morning, Instructor Thorne.”
His narrowed eyes roam over me like he’s sizing me up. “You’re late.”
I blink. “What? I’m ten minutes early.”
He snorts his displeasure, reminding me of one of the alicorns. “You’re twenty minutes late, Duchess.”
Just like that, my resolve to be agreeable fizzles. “You told me to meet you an hour before breakfast. And here I am, an hour and ten minutes before breakfast. I don’t know what kingdom you’re from, sir , but here in Aclaris, that means?—”
“An hour before my breakfast. The instructors eat thirty minutes before the recruits do.”
My jaw unhinges. “How was I supposed to know that if you didn’t tell me beforehand? It doesn’t count if you tell me after the fact.”
He raises his gaze skyward, like he’s praying to the gods for patience. “Are you always this argumentative?”
“What can I say, you bring out the best of me.” My temper rises. “Are you always this arrogant?”
His jaw ticks, and he pushes into my space. My muscles tense with a strange anticipation. “I don’t like babysitting you any more than you like being here. But if you want to survive your time at Flighthaven, it’s in your best interest to cooperate.”
I suck in a breath. If I want to survive? Is he threatening me? “What is that supposed to mean?”
His chest rumbles. “It means I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“By yelling at and browbeating me?”
He rakes a hand through his thick, shoulder-length black hair, which hangs loose this morning. I find myself distracted, wondering if the waves are as soft as they appear. “Do you seriously have to ask me that?”
I open my mouth, but the look he gives me snaps it shut. Okay. Maybe I am being a little argumentative. I blame him. He evokes a strong reaction in me.
“Sorry.” My muttered apology makes me sound like an ungrateful brat.
“Enough,” he tugs on my arm, and I have no choice but to follow, “we’re wasting valuable time. Let’s go.”
Once inside the stable, my irritation evaporates when I spot the never-ending rows of stalls on either side of the massive structure. Morning light filters in through the windows, illuminating the powerful creatures stirring in their stalls.
Out of instinct, I step back. My heart rate kicks up.
Horses. They’re just giant horses with wings. And horns. Enormous, sharp horns and huge wings they use to fly…and I need to stop already because this isn’t helping.
I tell myself that I rode one last night and am still in one piece. The reminder actually calms me a little.
Thorne thrusts a pitchfork in my hand. “Here.”
I grip the tool. “What’s this for?”
He rolls his eyes. “And here I thought you were smarter than you looked.”
“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you really have a way with people.”
A surprised blink, followed by laughter. The rich, throaty sound stuns me at first before wrapping around me like a snare. I’m certain this is the first time I’ve heard him laugh, and the transformation that occurs on his face mesmerizes me. His features soften, and the tawny skin near his gold-flecked eyes crinkles. If I thought he was attractive while scowling, laughing makes him downright breathtaking.
My pulse speeds up again, this time for an entirely different reason.
Stop it. He’s your instructor. You don’t even like him, and for good reason…because he’s an ass.
Still chuckling, he shakes his head. I continue to stare. Until this moment, I’m not sure I believed this man even knew how to laugh. I’m reeling and have no idea what to say or do.
A faint smile lingers on his mouth. “I guess I’m lucky I don’t care what other people think.”
“You, not caring what other people think? Shocking.”
“It’s not always a bad thing.”
The gentle tone indicates that he’s not being unkind, but stating a fact, and I don’t know how to take this new side of him. It’s like something changed since last night, causing him to slip off his usual mask of cocky self-assuredness and stand bare before me without any pretense.
Truth be told, the transformation makes me a little uncomfortable.
“Um,” I stare at my boots, annoyed by my breathlessness, “I think you were about to lecture me on how to use a pitchfork.”
His mouth tips up again. “Have you ever used one?”
I shake my head. “Can’t say that I have.”
“Well, here’s a tip,” he nods at the pitchfork, “aim the pointy end at the straw.”
My jaw drops. First a laugh, and now a joke? Should I check for a big cosmic event in play tonight? “Great. Very helpful. But yesterday, I thought you said I didn’t have to muck the stable out.”
His shoulders lift. “I changed my mind.”
Irritation prickles my skin. “Is this some sort of punishment for rescuing me off the tower? Because as surprising as it may sound, getting stuck up there wasn’t my idea.”
“What?” Thorne’s brow creases. “No. Of course not.”
He guides me to the first empty stall and makes a sweeping gesture to the wheelbarrow inside.
I stare. “Okay, now what?”
“Now,” his eyes actually sparkle, “you muck out the stalls.”
“All of them?”
“As many as you have time for.”
After grabbing the pitchfork from me and offering a quick demonstration, Thorne hands the tool back to me. Grumbling under my breath, I make quick work of the first stall.
Once I’ve finished, I poke my head out the door. Trepidation washes over me. A snowy white alicorn stares straight at me, murderous intent in its eyes.
This creature wants to kill me.
Swallowing hard, I drop my gaze, willing my breathing to slow.
Thorne rests a hand on its powerful shoulder and murmurs something low. I can’t parse out the words, but his tone is almost…reverent. The creature sidesteps, snorting and nipping at his hand.
My stomach knots. “Did that thing just try to bite you?”
“No.” He shoots me an exasperated look. “This alicorn just ate a carrot stick I gave her. And I don’t think Nova appreciates you referring to her as a thing.”
“Oh. Sorry.” I lick my lips, forcing myself to observe Nova as she munches on a piece of carrot. “I didn’t mean any offense. Truly.” I feel silly whispering to an animal so powerful she could gore me with her horn in one swift blow. “I wonder how much you can understand?”
With an unreadable expression, he studies me long enough to make me fidget. “Not what you say so much as how you say it and how you act. Your body language. She can sense your intentions and emotions. If you’re afraid, or if you mean her harm. Alicorns are highly intelligent animals.”
I peek at the creature’s crystalline blue eyes again, trying to determine whether she truly wants to kill me, or if my imagination is running wild. When she paws at the dirt floor, I’m not so sure.
“What’s she doing?”
“She’s restless. Time to move onto her stall.” He gestures to the wheelbarrow beside me. “I’ll move each alicorn out into the aisle while you muck out their stalls. Shouldn’t take too long.”
I flash him what I hope is a grateful smile, but I’m pretty certain I just come across as nervous. “Okay.”
When I’ve cleaned so many stalls my arms and back feel disconnected from my body, Thorne saunters up. “Let’s keep moving. We don’t have all day.”
Suspicion roots in my chest. “Are you sure this isn’t punishment?”
“Of course, I’m sure.” He smirks. “Though I’m not denying the entertainment value of watching a pampered princess wade through alicorn shit.”
What the hells? “Sounds an awful lot like punishment to me. And I’m not a princess.”
He shrugs and inspects his nails like he’s bored. “Princess…duchess. Whatever.”
My blood heats, and I have a strong urge to kick him in the shin. I’m slaving the morning away and this cocky bastard is enjoying the show.
At least one of us is having a good time.
I take a deep breath. “I’m not a duchess either.”
“Close enough. Finish up this one,” he motions around the stall, “and meet me outside.”
As he strolls off, I tighten my grip on the pitchfork. What I wouldn’t give to introduce the pointed end to his arrogant ass.
A few minutes later, after I’ve mucked my last stall, I head out of the stable.
Thorne leads a saddled Zephyr toward me. My breath hitches. I will not have a repeat of yesterday.
I inhale slowly, hold my breath, and exhale. “Isn’t our time almost up?”
“Lucky for you, despite your lack of punctuality, we’ve got about fifteen minutes left.” He crooks a finger. “Come over here.”
Obeying, I approach with caution, so irritated I don’t realize what he’s doing at first. Much like yesterday, Thorne grabs my waist and deposits me onto Zephyr’s back.
My heart drums in my ears, and that all too familiar panic threatens to pull me under. I grab for Zephyr’s mane, holding on for dear life.
“Breathe, Duchess. Just relax. Nothing’s going to happen. I’ve got the reins.”
For some unknown reason, I believe him, just like I did last night when he told me to let go. At least when it comes to alicorns, I feel safe with him. And that’s a thought I don’t currently have the capacity to analyze.
Loosening my grip, I glance at Thorne. “Okay. This isn’t so bad.”
“You’ll be ready to fly with your class in no time.”
I snort. Someone’s feeling optimistic this morning. There’s a major difference between sitting on an alicorn and flying on one, but I don’t want to argue. Not when he’s trying so hard to encourage me. “You think so?”
“Absolutely. Relaxing is the key. You can’t be uptight and hyperventilating when you ride. Passing out in the air wouldn’t end well.”
I cringe at the image, reminding myself to keep taking deep, slow breaths. “That’s a visual I didn’t need.”
“Ready to dismount?” When I nod, he reaches for me, splaying his hands around my waist and lifting me from the alicorn. Even after my boots touch the ground, he continues holding me against him for a few moments, searching my face. “You okay?”
His warm, solid body, along with the scent of leather and soap, envelops me. I never thought something so simple could smell so good, but it’s intoxicating.
“Yes.” I wobble a little when he releases me, but this time, I don’t collapse. “I feel fine.”
“Good.” The slight quirk of his eyebrow says he doesn’t quite believe me. “Let me show you how to take the saddle off and groom him, and then you’d better go.”
Back in the stable, Thorne offers me a brush. I accept, turning the grooming tool over in my hands. “Where do I start?”
“At the neck.”
I eye Zephyr, reminding myself to stay calm so he doesn’t pick up on my fear. After last night’s adventure, the alicorn seems a little less scary, especially when I remember he was Leesa’s first. “Easy, boy. I bet my sister loved you to pieces, didn’t she?”
Zephyr whickers and nudges my hand with his velvety nose. The motion startles me, but I don’t jump. Progress.
After a few clumsy strokes with the brush, Thorne shakes his head.
“Let me show you.” He folds his hand over mine, guiding the brush back to Zephyr’s silvery gray neck. “Go in the direction of the hair, not against it. Don’t brush so light you’re tickling him, but don’t bear down too hard either. And be gentle with the wings.”
Together, we stroke the alicorn’s coat. I’m all too aware of the big, calloused hand wrapped around mine, and the unwelcome warmth such an innocent touch stirs inside me.
Clearing my throat, I pull my hand away. “I think I’ve got it.” Thorne discovering my body’s inadvertent reaction to him is a humiliation I’d prefer to avoid at all costs.
He steps back, lingering nearby as I finish. “Better.”
I breathe easier now that there’s more space between us. “Isn’t it about time for breakfast? For instructors, I mean?”
“It’s past time.” He runs his hand down Zephyr’s back, and the alicorn tosses his head. “Now it’s your turn to eat.”
“You missed breakfast? Why didn’t you stop me earlier?”
“Because I already ate in my room.” With a smirk, he grabs the brush and nods toward the mess hall. “Make sure you’re here an hour and a half before your breakfast time tomorrow.”
Unbelievable.
As I storm off, a thunderous bellow rattles the air, dying off into a keening cry. Another plaintive wail follows. A phantom fist squeezes my ribs. I whirl toward the huge iron and stone enclosure towering a short distance away. The dragon aerie. But what in the heavens could cause one of the dragons to wail like the sky is falling?
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Puzzled, I glance over my shoulder at Thorne, only then noting that I unintentionally moved toward the aerie. I shake my head a few times, attempting to dispel whatever daze grips me. Woah. Terrible idea to stumble around Flighthaven in a semi-fugue state. Between my minimal nights of good sleep and maximal stress levels since learning about Leesa, though, I’m not surprised I’m zoning out. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“An excellent way to un-alive yourself. Though I suppose that would save me the trouble of early morning training.”
Wow. “Your compassion knows no bounds.” Another wail fills the air. The cry, so mournful and bruised, carves through me like a knife, digging at some hidden spot deep inside. “Why do they sound so unhappy?”
Thorne’s gaze darkens, and he replies with a cryptic, “Why wouldn’t they sound unhappy?” before stalking toward the aerie.